Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1

Chapter 14: Arrows

Taurnan rolled over on his stomach, peering between the blades of thick grass, looking for ants or slugs or something interesting. Nothing. His bright blue eyes were drawn up to the shining green and copper body of a grasshopper. He rose to his knees, reaching forward slowly, trying to capture the insect in his cupped palms. He gasped as it hopped away with a sharp clicking of its stiff wings. Taurnan bounded after it, weaving between the adults as they sat, attentively listening to his mother.

When Silraen had leaned back on a large boulder, addressing the group with almost apologetic seriousness, Taurnan's attention had wavered, as it often did. Now, as he stalked the elusive grasshopper, snippets of Silraen's speech reached his distracted ears.

"...as we turn toward the mountains. The trails will be rough and steep, we might even see snow. Just be careful and stay together and we'll be all right."

Another voice piped up, it was Kihal, one of the soldiers who had been badly hurt and sent along, "Silraen, I don't mean to be difficult, but I have to ask; how close are we?"

"We're making good progress," Silraen said with a nod, "But I can't tell you how much longer because I just don't know."

It was a lie, and Kihal knew it. But, Silraen would not discourage them further with an answer. It was better to just keep quiet.

Taurnan had caught the grasshopper, finally, and he giggled as he felt it jump within the cage of his hands. He let it go, watching as the sun glinted off its faceted wings, but lost sight of it as it leapt away across the plains. Taurnan saw then that Silraen was watching him with an adoring smile. He grinned back and scurried over to her, falling against her side and hugging her waist. Silraen placed a hand on his head and announced, "I have a little treat for everyone. I managed to smuggle some honey cakes out of the kitchens as we left, and I think we should celebrate how well we have done and how far we have come already."

Pleased murmurs spread through the crowd. Silraen lifted Taurnan into her arms, even though he was getting a little too big for it, and carried him to the packhorse that carried the pilfered cakes. Orophin was standing beside the horse, balanced on one leg, a sleeping Danuriel in his arms.

"I'm glad you're walking a little," Silraen said, "But don't overdo it. I don't want you dropping my daughter."

"Oh, I'm fine," Orophin assured, rocking the baby softly as he leaned back against the horse.

"Are you in the mood for a treat?" Silraen asked as she set down her son and untied a sack from the horse.

"Exactly what do you have in mind?" Orophin asked with a suggestively raised eyebrow.

Silraen shook her head indulgently, "Sugar," she replied, handing him a cake.

Orophin's grin was nearly as bright as the noon sunshine they had been blessed with that day. The weather was pleasant enough to forget all the cold and rain they had endured before. The yellow of the grass had been replaced in an instant with a soothing green after the nourishing rains.

After she had distributed the candies, Silraen leaned back on the horse again with Orophin and sighed in contentment. Orophin was looking down into Danuriel's chubby face as he said, "I know you don't need me to tell you this, Silraen, but you're doing an incredible job. You were the right choice."

"I don't know," Silraen said, her body growing tense as she wrapped her arms around herself, "This has been the easy part. The mountains have little sympathy for the weak."

A silence hung between them as Orophin contemplated this statement. His green eyes lingered on the far horizon for a little too long, long enough that Silraen looked closely at his face, "What is wrong?"

"The sky," he said quietly, nodding into the distance, "Look at the sky."

Silrean could see then that the horizon was a deep gray-black, an unnatural color.

"Maybe it's going to storm..." Silraen murmured.

Orophin shook his head, "It's something else."

Silraen frowned deeply. "We need to get moving. We've rested long enough."

As the Lorien elves entered the maze of ridges and valleys in the Misty Mountains, that sunny afternoon became the faintest memory. Since then, an ashy, grimy darkness dominated the skies. The air felt stifling and close.

Though she did her best to hide it, Silraen's mood had darkened to the same hue as the horizon. Dire scenarios haunted her thoughts though she fought them constantly. It was the infuriating uncertainty that plagued her. Her husband, her brother, many dear to her were somewhere beyond the jagged mountaintops but there was no way for Silraen to know what had become of them.

She tried to check the direction of the sun, but could not feel warmth nor see light. As Silraen looked up at the sooty sky, a terrible thought entered her mind. What if this darkness means it's over? What if it means they've already lost? How would we know? How long would it take for the evil ones to find us here in the remote lands? Silraen knew it hardly mattered. They were elves and lived long. Evil would eventually catch them.

The same unnatural darkness had descended on Lorien and Haldir stared out the tent flap at the restless birds wheeling between the tree trunks. Many of the other injured had left this makeshift hospital, but Haldir remained. He slept a lot, ate little, and said less. He would stare sometimes at his chest plate where it now leaned against a tent pole, and felt naked without its comforting weight over his shoulders.

Haldir knew then that he had become as his father once was. All trace of the normal elf, all trace of youth was gone. He was a soldier now, to his very core. He had not set out for it to be so, it just happened. Even if, years from now, his armor was packed away in a trunk somewhere, aged and forgotten, he would still be wearing it. He would never truly be rid of it.

Well, if the chest plate fits...Haldir thought ruefully. He hauled his aching body from the cot and stood. He struggled with straps and buckles until his armor was in place. Itfelt like a cocoon around him that he could hide behind just enough to face the world outside his tent again. He saw a drop of dried blood on his wrist gauntlet, a perfectly round spot of deep brown. He rubbed at it, but froze as he wondered if it was his own blood...or his brother's. He closed his eyes as pain burst through his chest, with the same shattering intensity as the moment it happened. Would it ever get better?

"Captain, you are out of bed?" came a voice from the entrance to the tent. Haldir finally looked up from his stained wrist and found Galenos watching him carefully. It took only a moment's assessment for Galenos to see that Haldir's strength had returned to him. That was good, for it looked like he would be needing it again.

"Captain, a group of riders has arrived from Mirkwood. They have asked for you."

Haldir straightened the stiff armor plates that covered his body, taking a few tentative steps. He still limped from his leg wound, but he was mobile. He stepped outside, half expecting the sunlight to blind him, but finding the mid-day to be as dim as dusk. It was little wonder Haldir had found it so easy to sleep with no sun to keep him awake.

Haldir sensed then a strange thing. He could feel heavy, determined footfalls moving toward him, the movement of an elf too agitated to maintain the usual grace of their kind. Haldir spun just as the footsteps turned the corner around the tent. He was grabbed by the collar of his thick undershirt and given an insistent shake as a voice demanded, "Where is my sister?"

The blue eyes were a few shades darker, but their shape and their fire were identical to Silraen's. "Good to see you too, Belegant."

"Tell me where she is. These soldiers of yours say she is not in the city, where is she?"

Looking over Belegant's shoulder, Haldir could see Galenos approaching, his lip curled over his teeth, prepared to defend his captain who had just barely recovered. Haldir stopped him with a quick shake of his head. Belegant shot a sharp glance behind him out of the corner of his eye and released his brother-in-law with clear reluctance. A handful of Mirkwood warriors shuffled nervously behind also, reluctant to step between the two elves. Haldir was silent for a moment longer, allowing Belegant to calm, just as he often did when he argued with Silraen.

"She has left the city to take refuge in the mountains. She is leading the people of this city to a safe place."

"You allowed this?" Belegant growled.

"I suggested it."

"You are a fool. All things evil move now, it seems they emerge from the very soil to cause torment. And you sent her out to face that?"

"We have had two major attacks on our realm. It was no longer safe here. There were no options." Haldir looked more closely at Belegant, "I doubt his highness Thranduil sent you here to check up on your sister. Do you bring us news?"

Belegant's scowl clearly meant the topic of Silraen's departure would not be forgotten. But, knowing his duty, Belegant relayed his message. "We fought a great battle seven days ago in the forest and repelled our enemies. We fear those orcs that survived are coming here. They are few, but the Wraith leads them. No power we possess could even faze the creature. The Lady is the only being for leagues that might challenge him."

Haldir digested this information for a moment. "How many have you brought?"

"Only so many as we could steal horses for from the royal stables. The army of Mirkwood is on the march here as we speak. But, I don't see how they can arrive here before our enemies. We've been sent to warn you. You will be attacked before another day has passed."

"That's fine," Haldir said quietly, "We have little left to lose here. Galenos, see that our guests are given food and a place to rest. I must confer with our Lord and Lady."

He didn't want Belegant to know that he went also to find out what he had missed in seven day's seclusion. He felt shame at his weakness, that he had let grief so cripple him. He feared his warriors might never respect him again.

Celeborn looked up in clear surprise as Haldir entered the throne room of the Great Mallorn. Without preamble, Haldir said, "I don't know if you have already been told, but riders from Thranduil have come with a warning. The Wraith was not in the last battle here because he was leading an attack on Mirkwood. They turned their enemies aside, but Thranduil's commander believes they will be here at any time."

"Galenos has doubled the watch on the walls and sends mounted regiments out every other hour. Hopefully when they do come for us we will be ready. Are you sure that you're..."

Celeborn trailed off, and both he and Haldir watched as Galadriel brushed past him, out the door to the stairs. Her eyes were as glassy and opaque as marbles and she seemed drawn along against her will or thought. Haldir shared a look with Celeborn, whose eyes were narrowed with concern. They followed her, perplexed, as she went slowly down the stairs to the thick grasses below. Haldir almost felt silly, following her but not daring to ask what the blazes was going on.

When Galadriel reached the city walls, to their amazement, she gripped the weathered stones, her graceful palms forming around them as she pulled herself up. Her bare feet groped for footholds and slowly she climbed, her husband looking on anxiously.

Galadriel reached the top of the wall, then hauled herself up and stood. Celeborn could faintly hear her whisper, "You will not overpower me again."

The piercing scream of the Nazgul lord filled the valley with such sudden rage that Celeborn started. There was another sound, the whistle of arrows that was nearly drowned out by the indignant Wraith. Galadriel's hand shot up, palm out, as an arrow flew toward her face. The arrow pierced her hand, the arrowhead emerging from the other side and stopping a hairs-breadth from her mouth. A second arrow, bound for her heart, drove into the palm of her other hand, but she did not even flinch. She showed no sign that she even felt the shot, and Haldir thought for an irrational moment of the audacity of the two orcs who dared fire on the Lady.

As Celeborn climbed to the top of the wall, reaching out for her, she leapt, landing lightly on the ground below. She looked so white, contrasted against the dark orcish army as she walked toward them. It looked like a single dove against a backdrop of storm clouds.

Celeborn hit the ground with a grunt, feeling the impact up through his legs and spine, but ignored the pain. He ran for his wife as the Nazgul stalked toward her from the other direction. Galadriel's hands, still pierced by the slim black arrows, rose, one before her, one behind. Celeborn felt a force against the middle of his chest, strong and warm, holding him in place. "No!" he screamed, "Galadriel, no! Let me go!"

The Wraith howled in similar rage as he found himself unable to take another step. Galadriel moved forward on silent feet. The Wraith staggered, falling back as she advanced, powerless, pathetic. The elven warriors who crouched atop the city walls watched with the same awe and terror as the orcs they faced as the Nazgul was driven to his knees. The forest had fallen so deathly silent that Haldir could hear the clatter of the Nazgul's armor hidden somewhere in the voluminous cloak as he fell.

Galadriel hit her knees also and Celeborn's breath hitched. He struggled against the ancient, elemental power that bound him, fought on in fear for Galadriel though he knew it was hopeless.

Galadriel tipped forward, resting the sides of her hands on the ground and leveling her face with the earth. She whispered to it, whispered to the stubborn soil and stones, to this land that wished only to stay neutral as wars raged on top of it. She asked for help, whispering in a language few remembered. With some reluctance, a rumbling could be felt, faintly at first. The elves on the wall looked down as the vibrations rattled up the stones. Galadriel looked up, a glitter in her blue eyes so cold and so satisfied that several orcs stepped back in fear. The thick, black earth churned beneath the Wraith, heaving and crumbling around his boots with wild power. Then, it sucked him down, drowned him in a writhing mass of dirt as he flailed impotently to escape. As the earth settled over him, flat and fresh as if it had been patiently raked, the elvish army broke from their stupor and charged. The flowed around Galadriel where she kneeled, staring at the disturbed soil with no expression on her face.

Celeborn glanced for only a moment at his army, but all thought of them fled his mind as he was released from his wife's spell. He stumbled to her, falling awkwardly to his knees before her. He took one of her hands in his own gently, his fingers shaking.

"I have to..." he swallowed, his throat bone dry as he looked down at her, "I will have to break the arrows, they will not pull out any other way."

Galadriel was not looking at him, but stared down at her wounded hands. The soft waves of her yellow hair hid her face. Her hands looked so fragile and tiny, her palms traced with fine lines interrupted by the shaft of the arrows.

"Are you ready?" Celeborn whispered.

Galadriel nodded, tipping her head against his shoulder. It drew only the slightest gasp from her as Celeborn gripped the arrow and snapped it in half. Before he could hesitate, Celeborn pressed her hand to the ground and jerked the arrow free, the barely controlled power of his actions surprising Galadriel. Finally, her faced tipped up and she stared at her husband as he broke the arrow from her other hand. She gasped again, not at the pain, but at the single tear she saw slip down Celeborn's cheek and hang on the edge of his steely jaw for a moment. He was not looking at her, but concentrating so intently on her hands, his face was drawn tight in pain and fear for a wife he loved but could never truly understand.

A second bloodied arrow was dropped to the ground. "I'm sorry," Celeborn whispered to her, so quietly that she barely heard him over the sound of the battle across the field. Galadriel reached up, pressing her hands to the sides of Celeborn's face, her blood staining his cheeks. She kissed him, her eyes squeezed shut as she lifted higher on her knees, drawing close to his large body. A stray arrow drove into dirt inches from her leg, and a second whirred past Celeborn's ear. But, they didn't care or even notice. For a moment, all they cared about was each other.

Thank you so, so much to my reviewers ellfine, moonbunny77, Linny, eyes of sky, AnbuShinobi379, sar, and Puxinette. You are the greatest and I apologize again for a long delay. I'm so glad you're sticking with me!