Whoa... This is a long chapter... Anyways, I hope you enjoy! For all of you who like Ciaran... Expect the unexpected. *grin* Thank you for all of the faves, follows, and reviews, as always! You guys make my day!
Chapter 25
The days crawled by slowly, and Eruanna marked the time by the daily arrival of letters from the twins. She would read them twice or more each day, and she also received a personal letter from Ciaran every day as well. Sometimes there was a note from Estel or Legolas as well.
But Glorfindel was relieved, for Eruanna was more cheerful whenever she received them. And so the days went on.
March 6
To Arwen our sister and Eruanna our cousin;
Greetings from your brothers Elladan and Elrohir. We and the Dunedaìn have now overtaken Aragorn and the others, and have arrived safely. Halbarad is keeping your standard safe on request of Aragorn, Arwen, and he thanks you for it.
There is not much to tell: only that tomorrow we should arrive at Dunharrow by nightfall, if all goes well. We have given Aragorn the message about the Paths of the Dead, and he has heeded out words, if I am not much mistaken; we may just have a new harrowing adventure to write to you about next.
Elladan says to tell Eruanna that he is still jealous of Ciaran for the kiss you gave him; he still wants one too. He sends Arwen his love and hopes that she will feel better soon.
As for me, Elrohir, I say to Eruanna to take care of herself, and that I apologize for grieving her. I shall make it up to you, penneth, this I promise with all that I have. Perhaps I can bring you something from our journey-? Arwen, sister, Evenstar of our people, heal well. For though the life of the Eldar fail you, never shall our love for you dim.
Keep safe.
Love, Elladan and Elrohir Peredhil
To lady Eruanna;
Greetings from Ciaran. I hope that you have fared well, Eruanna, and that you are in good health. As I have promised, so far I have been taking care of myself not to be foolish, and also I have been keeping an eye on Halbarad and his sons.
Halladan has even written a lay about your life, so impressed was he. His brother teases him to no end, but Halladan does not care. In his free time he sits about and carves, humming words under his breath and fashioning something from the wood. I think he means to give it to you. Borongil gives him advice, for all that he teases. Halbarad is amused. He sends his greetings- that is, he would if he knew that I was writing to you.
The gem is ever above my heart, dear one, and is my personal standard in battle. I was glad to hear that you have kept my gift to you safe as well.
My time runs short, but I felt that I should write since the sons of Lord Elrond offered to send a letter to you for me. I shall write to you more later; even now lord Aragorn searches for me.
My heart prays for you, and I feel that perhaps your prayers guide us safely through the darkness as well, to a certain extent. I can feel it in the air. Be safe, dear heart, and know that I shall never forget you and all that you have done for me, whether you know it or not-
Ciaran
To lady Eruanna;
Greetings from your Estel. I thank you for your prayers and love, which Elladan and Elrohir and Ciaran have conveyed to me.
I must make this note short, to my dismay, but know that I think of you all at Imladris, and that my love is with you all. Please give Arwen this note, and may the Valar keep you safe as well.
Aragorn son of Arathorn, Isildurchil
The next day brought similar notes, with not much new news, only that they had arrived at Dunharrow safely and were waiting the decision of Aragorn. But the day after brought grave news and yet relief.
March 8
Arwen and Eruanna:
We have taken the Paths of the Dead. At dawn we left; at midnight we arrived at the stone of Erech. Only now did we have the time to write to you,- forgive us if it is short.
Do not worry for us; the dead have heeded the request of Aragorn and shall follow the heir of Isildur until they are released from their living death. We are in no danger from them and shall greatly appreciate their help.
Know that we are safe and well. We march tomorrow for Minias Tirith. Please, don't forget that we love you-
Elladan and Elrohir Peredhil
To lady Eruanna;
I am sure that the lords Elladan and Elrohir have already told you our plans and whereabouts, so I shall not burden you further. It is a waste of ink, and I have not the time nor effort: or maybe rather, I am lazy, Eruanna. Do not think too badly of me for it, dear one...
My personal standard still lies above my heart, as always, and I hope you are safe and well.
The dead are not very nice to look at, Eruanna. They need baths even more than I do. If they have ghostly swords, armor, helmets, clothes, and horses, I wonder if they have spectral soap. I might want to borrow some, too, if they do. Do you suppose I should ask?
There is no more time now- I believe we march soon. I shall continue to keep an eye- both eyes- on Halbarad and his son, along with myself...
Ciaran
After Eruanna had cried, chewed her nails with worry, clutched at her hair, and laughed herself silly, she went to write them back. Arwen did the same, and the letters were sent with light hearts that were, nonetheless, shadowed for their loved ones, but still managed to find some gaiety amidst the throes of war.
The next week or so had a decline in the interest of the letters; they all spoke of marching and driving the enemy back. That is, until the thirteenth.
March 13
Arwen and Eruanna:
We have arrived at Pelargir and have successfully captured the Corsair fleet. The army of the dead has done their job well: not a single Corsair is alive any longer. I do say it has been rather fun so far.
Elladan says to ask Eruanna if she will give him a kiss if he brings her back something pretty from the Corsair treasures. He still has not given up on striving to receive one. He reminds Eruanna that if he dies she shall regret not giving him one. He also asks Arwen if she feels any better.
As for me, I ask the same of Arwen and remind her that her older brothers love her very much. The same goes for you, penneth, and remember that cousin Elrohir thinks of you often. I still look for something to give you.
We are sailing now, and expect to arrive at Pelennor fields tomorrow. That is where the battle is. I do not expect to write you for a while until the battle is over, so I will say my farewells now.
Never forget that we love you, and please continue to pray for us-
Elladan and Elrohir Peredhil
To lady Eruanna;
'Tis Ciaran, as I am sure you have guessed. Well, the grand hour rapidly approaches. I will either live to find the chest with you, dear heart, or I shall die and give lord Glorfindel's regards to lord Nàmo. I know not which until the battle has ended.
For someone who has never sailed, I have found that I seem to take on to having 'sea legs' rather quickly, as the Corsairs say. Perhaps I have some Corsair blood in me; that is a rather daunting thought.
I look forwards to arriving on the battle field and charging in the name of my King Aragorn, Eruanna; the very thought of it stirs my blood. But my standard over my heart shall be on my breast as I fight. May it guide my sword.
I feel your prayers and thank you for it, dear one, and as I have promised, I shall try to keep an eye on Halbarad and his sons. Please, do not think harshly of me if things go wrong. But what am I blabbering about; I know that you would never think like that. Forgive me, I do not mean to disparage you in any way, my lady.
Do not forget your dear Ciaran, Eruanna, and I hope to write to you to tell you that I am alive. If not, know that with me to my grave I carried your love in my heart and thoughts of you.
I feel that I must tell you this before I go- you have been so much to me, Eruanna. You have been the daughter I have never had, someone who loved me for me. You did not care about my past; you have never asked me about it. You have never disparaged me for what you did not know. And yet you love me, innocently, wholly, and yet knowing that my hands are stained.
I am never so good at writing my thoughts and my heart, but I hope to be able to convey to you through my terrible writing that you are so much to me. You are my family. You are my home, dear heart. For this- for the simple knowledge that there is someone out there who loves me, who shall mourn if I die, who cares for me where no one else did- for this I thank you. I cherish it in my heart, and always shall.
Thank you- thank you for loving me, a pitiful mortal, and looking up to me as a father or brother figure. I do not deserve such a precious thing. But as you once told me, 'it is a gift. We are never worthy of any gift, for it was something we did not earn- it was a gift. Something from the heart. And that makes it all the more precious.' You were right. I understand that, now, as I never had before.
But I speak too much, and I waste your time. Forgive me, Eruanna. I am afraid I have not the proper words to say. But maybe, you understand. I like to think that perhaps- you understand me better than I do myself.
Bah, I speak foolishness. This may all be a waste of paper and I shall regret it later. I must go. Again, forgive me, and thank you, Eruanna.
Love, Ciaran
Eruanna stared at the piece of paper that was Ciaran's letter. Then she read it again. And again. And again. Then she clutched it to herself, tears running down her cheeks, sobs catching in her throat. She pressed it to her lips, and trembled.
Yes, yes Ciaran. And this baring of your heart- you, you who never shows emotion this way- it is a gift to me. You have bared yourself in front of me, admitted to me perhaps more than you know. In this rare moment, on this small scrap of parchment, you have shown me your heart.
Yes, Ciaran, I do understand you, father of my heart. You hate yourself. Somehow, I think I have always known that- the way you always slight yourself, the way you are so closed to the world, the way you speak constantly of others and not yourself: you hate yourself.
Yes, Ciaran. I understand you, perhaps better than you understand yourself. And that is why I love you, my father in my heart. That is why I look up to you. Because you think yourself worthless, a monster that does not deserve to live for what your life has been. And that is why I love you- because I see that. I want you to know- I want you to know that there is a purpose for everyone. That you are worth much. That you, too, are precious to Eru. And yes, to me.
This- this is why I love you.
And she wept, crying out in her heart for Eru to preserve all those that she loved. That letter she kept in her journal, tucked into it firmly and safely.
The answer to her prayers was not too long in coming, and yet it felt like forever to those in Imladris.
March 15
Arwen and Eruanna;
Praise the Valar, the battle is over, and it has been won in our favor. We have had many losses on both sides, but we are thankful, nonetheless, that we are mostly safe and uninjured.
King Théoden of the Rohirrim has passed on; his niece was great in valor on the field. Glorfindel's prophecy came true: she killed the witch King of Angmar. Sounds like a good joke, doesn't it? No man shall kill him... But a woman shall. That which was once fear is now turned to laughter...
Elladan has a few cuts and bruises and scrapes, as do I, but they are healing rapidly. I did take a rather nasty slash to the side, but do not fear, all is well. Tell lord Glorfindel for us that his balancing trick worked very well, will you?
The army of the dead has been released, and have passed on in peace. Your standard, Arwen, has been raised above the field for all to see. It brings hope to the men.
Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli are well; they, also, had but minor injuries and are safe. Legolas says to tell you, Eruanna, that your string did not break, that it held true, and that with it he killed a Mûkmail as well. It is as clean as ever, too.
Elladan still pesters me to write to ask if Eruanna has considered that kiss yet. I say that I wish you were here, penneth- I could use a hug from you. You and Arwen. I envy those that do on a daily basis.
Sister Evenstar; do not give up hope. We love you, always, and it is for your sake as well as our own love for Estel that we are here. I must leave; healer's duties call, as this is a mere break for me.
Love, Elladan and Elrohir Peredhil
To lady Eruanna:
As I suspected, now I feel foolish for writing my last letter. Do throw it away or burn it- or rather, do with it as you will.
As you can tell, I am quite alive and well, though I do have a slight injury; a minor cut to the side. Don't listen to lord Elrohir if he says otherwise; it really isn't much. Don't look so doubtful, I can see your face in my mind as you read this. It was just a scratch, truly.
In fact, Eruanna, your standard has saved my life, I am quite sure of it. There was an orcish blade that was coming for my heart- I did not block it in time- but just when I thought I was going to die, my left side felt heavy. It swung me around, and the blade hit my breast- just above my heart. There was a dent left in the scimitar. Perhaps it is just my fancy, but I am quite sure that something in the gem knew that I was in danger. Therefore, thank you.
It is with a heavy heart that I now write these following lines; I have been stalling too long as it is already. Halbarad lies in a cairn on his own, his spear and sword on top of it and his horse buried next to him. I tried to stay close, Eruanna, as I promised- but we were separated. I am truly sorry. I feel as though I have failed you, somehow.
I know that you will tell me that I did not, but I feel as though I must apologize nonetheless- if not to you then to Halbarad. He was my friend.
Halladan and Borongil are alive if grieving, and often I will find Halladan humming the tune to his lay under his breath. It seems to give him some comfort. Borongil spars- it is his outlet. But rest assured that they are well and Halbarad died in the defense of his King and in the most honorable manner, surrounded by foes. And not once did the standard that he bore touch the ground.
But no- it is too much to think of now- the grief is too near for me. The thought of seeing you keeps me buoyed, dear heart. Forgive me if I seem to take liberties with my thoughts of you- but can you not see what you mean to me? Imagination is free, is it not?
I do not dare to be too free with my address of you- for though you may have learned under me, I have also learned much from you. You have loved me and taught me to open myself, if but a little. I guarded myself from being hurt, Eruanna, by hurting others first: this was my life.
But you taught me that in order to have friends, you must hurt and be hurt in return. There is no friendship without a rocky path; for that makes it all the stronger and tests the heart and mind. You have allowed me to make a friend; two friends. No, more than that. It is more than I could ever dream of, a tainted person like me.
That is why I praise you in my heart and in my letters- this is why I adore you in my heart and dare to love you. I, a member of the Sereg'wethrin who does not have any right to love or be loved. You are so far above me, in heart and mind, and I have even ruined your dreams by tainting you with an object and burden of my guild- and yet you still love me. I forced your hand to accept the gift and curse- and yet you thanked me for my trust in you!
This is why I speak of you so. Do you see? This is the kind of man I am.
Perhaps I frighten you with my words- forgive me, dear heart. I realize how this must seem to you- that I am strange and delusional, and that I have disturbing thoughts. But you realize, surely, that if you ask I will never speak of it again. Indeed I am nothing, only here to serve my King and sustain myself with thoughts of you, my daughter-of-heart.
No, perhaps I am too bold in calling you so. I am afraid, Eruanna, so afraid of losing your favor- this is why I write as I do. Because I want to know your thoughts about me; am I frightening you? Do I presume too much? Please, let me know where the line is; for where I was walking on the edge of darkness, you brought me back to the light.
But again, I waste your time; do as you see fit with these words of mine. I am nobody and nothing to this world- I live to die in the place of my King, to assure the safety of his life at the price of my own. Please, only allow me to think of you as I wish, if this is a reasonable request.
Do burn this letter, I feel ashamed to even send it, but I cannot take the words back, and I have not the strength to write another.
Yours truly, Ciaran.
Eruanna read Ciaran's letter several times, each time becoming more and more bewildered even as she wept over Halbarad. She did not know what to think of this side of Ciaran. Truly, he had hidden himself well from the world: there was nothing to indicate that he was like this- or was there?
She knew that he had hated himself- and yet, the more he had opened up, the more she had seen inside him... And the more she had gotten the feeling that he was so vulnerable inwardly. She knew nothing of his past, and yet she had the feeling that he had been forced to hide his true self away and to create a façade that was entirely untrue. A mask. An alternate person.
And now... Now she saw the true Ciaran. And though it did not frighten her, it certainly startled her to find that this was the man behind the mask. The mask was certainly a part of him, for it originated from within himself, but this- this was the true Ciaran. This was what he was before he had become what he was now. And she felt rather conflicted about it.
But when she wrote back, it was to assure him that she did not think any differently- that she still loved him as a father- that imagination was truly free and she was happy to be thought of as his daughter. And though she never told him, not for a thousand years, she kept his letters in her journal, to last for as long as she did. For Forever.
March 23
Arwen and Eruanna;
We are on the brink of battle. We march to the Black Gates in a final, desperate attempt to draw out Sauron's forces so that we may give Frodo and Sam a chance to do their mission. It is no secret what we intend to do, so I do not fear to write to you about it. Please pray for us. For all of us here. Pray that no matter the cost, we shall succeed.
At the moment, we are in Ithilien, one day away from the Desolation of Morannon where we shall camp before the final assault. I do not think that we shall be able to write to you after this, but please, remember that we love you all very much. If we do not make it out of this adventure, than we shall one day meet on the other side of Mandos.
Forgive us for causing you grief, but hope and pray that all shall be for the best in the end, that the sacrifices to be made shall not be in vain.
Do not fear, Arwen, we shall attempt to take care of Aragorn. Elladan asks one more time, Eruanna, if he survives will you give him a kiss. I wish I could give you a final hug, but I cannot, so instead I shall hug you in my heart.
There is no more time to write now, but know that we always love you-
Your brothers,
Elladan and Elrohir Peredhil
To my lady Eruanna;
It is I, Ciaran, as I am sure that you know. I wonder how many others write you letters? I am almost jealous- but not quite, because I must remember that I have no claim on you.
I write today to tell you farewell, in case I shall not survive this one last battle. After this, we shall see if our efforts have come to naught or if we have succeeded. I miss you so, dear heart, and I am happy to hear that you have been safe and well.
Your last letter opened a door of understanding for me. I see that you are confused about me, in some way, and for this I cannot fault you. I will attempt to explain.
In my youth from my earliest memories, I was raised to be what I am now. My personality, then, was very different. I believe it was from my past life, though I cannot remember any of it now. It has been blocked out from my mind; I believe I may have subconsciously done so in an attempt to forget it.
But as you see, I have changed since then. I have created for myself an alternate personality, one that is very different from what I was originally. I am still the Ciaran you know and have always known; it is only that now, because of you, I have regained some of my old personality and it is struggling to make itself known.
I cannot help myself; can you see this? I must allow it to run its course. I cannot hold back something that is a part of me. I must praise you, I must love you, I must adore you in my heart, because it is who I am. It is what I am truly like.
I never show these things to others, and never shall, for that would be impossible now after so many years of being the monster, and if you see me again then you shall see that I am still the same Ciaran that left you from Rivendell. It is only in my letters that this side of me appears- this is my outlet. This is my way of expressing what is in my heart.
So forgive me, sweetheart, if I write things that disturb you, but I cannot help myself. My heart pours itself out to you through my writing, but neither can I stop writing you. I cannot and will not; for this is one thing that I refuse to sacrifice to anyone. Maybe you shall cease to read these letters, but I will never cease to write them, because they are the one thing that keeps me sane through this Void of war. You are my relief and my sanctuary, Eruanna.
I am nothing and no one, Eruanna, but I want- no, I would like- for you to know that I love you in my heart as someone dear to me by flesh and blood, for indeed you are my family. You are my sister, my daughter, my family. To think that I, a mortal, would say such things of an Eldar- truly I must be mad.
Perhaps all of the pranks lords Elladan and Elrohir have pulled on me have finally gotten to my head. Forgive me, I write too long once more.
If I do not survive: be comforted in that I shall not bother you any longer, though you must also know that my last thought was of you and all you have done for me.
May the Powers that be guide you,
Ciaran
After these letters, the next days were a living Mordor for both Eruanna and Arwen, and the rest of what was left of Imladris.
Eruanna read Ciaran's letter several times, and understood him better. Yes, she understood. She now saw Ciaran for what he truly was: a love-deprived soul trapped underneath the mask he always wore and had nearly always worn, unable to escape the cage he had made for himself.
She understood, now. She realized that because she had been the first one to see something of what was underneath and attempt to reach it- because she had expressed love for him- he had clung to that, reached out for it in his hunger and desperation for it- and this was the result. She was only happy that she could help him in some way, no matter how small...
She plonked her head on the desk with a sigh. Why oh why could the days not go by faster!?