I knock the ice from my bones
Try not to feel the cold
Caught in the thought of that time
When everything was fine
Everything was mine
Everything was fine
Everything was mine
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put me back together again
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put me back together againRun with my hands on my eyes
Blind, but I'm still alive
Free to go back on my own
But is it still a home
When you're all alone?"
"All The King's Horses"
-Karmina
Fire-Born
"You got two seconds to hand over the kid, Grandpa."
"I see no reason why I should, young lady. Not until you learn to mind your tongue in front of your elders."
"Who're you working for?" Chyann demanded, letting her energy loose just enough to give her eyes a glimmer. "'Cuz I've been looking for a kid fitting just that description through hell and back. She's dying..." she shifted her weight, "while you have your hands all over her. So, I'll give you one more chance: gimme the kid before I end you."
"What is her name?" The old man had incredible blue eyes, and while she noted he was no Dark Elf, she had no reason to trust crusty old men around little girls in the woods.
"Mellianor." Chyann replied in a voice scarce above a growl. Her knuckles cracked when she clenched her fists.
"And where do you come from, child?"
"I'm from...King Thranduil's halls. Before then, I'm not from here." Her temper was near to the point of snapping. She didn't want to kill anyone innocent, but if he didn't give Mellianor to her...
"...You're right," he nodded, and Chyann was taken aback by how unthreatened he sounded, "she is dying, and it is beyond my skills to heal her given where we are. Perhaps," he stood from the log where he sat cradling the little Elf girl, and approached cautiously, "you can. There is something about you I find rather...honest."
"You didn't answer my question," she said as she held out her arms for Mellianor, fingers itching to hold this little precious stranger she had heard so much about, and already loved. Mellianor was smaller than she expected.
The old man harrumphed. "I serve no master, truly. I give aid where I can...but for now it appears I who is need aid." His robes were made of humble cloth, the grey dye visibly faded from both weather and wash. He was quite tall, and she could sense the deceptive strength in his old form, like Radagast. She sensed no evil, and she could sense no harm from him upon Mellianor, who quaked in her arms.
"Oh, Melli," tears sprang to Chyann's eyes to sense the vital weakness within the tiny body. She held Mellianor fast to her breast, pouring warmth and strength into her. She stabilized as Chyann grew weaker, but it was a crutch, and a fragile one at that. Without further help she could die. "I need my sister," she started saying. She was cut short as Orophin burst into their little clearing. His horse was panting hard, Chyann noticed. Behind him she saw Haldir and Rumil catching up.
Rumil saw the old man and immediately bowed. "Mithrandir," he raised his head, and, looking at Chyann, said something in rapid Sindarin. She blinked as the stream continued and understood maybe three out of ten words. "What?"
"He says that he's glad you didn't kill me." The man called Mithrandir said, "That you ran quite fast...and that the King approaches."
"Oh shit." It was more surprise than dismay, she noticed. About damn time he got here.
Then the rage welled up...
The Elvenking
Chyann was waiting. In her arms was a small bundle he immediately recognized as Mellianor. He dismounted swiftly, "Does she live? Is she harmed?" He was stooping and reaching out for the child, when swiftly Chyann passed her off to Mithrandir and her hand struck him hard across his face.
He felt his jaw rattle and he stumbled back, just barely keeping his footing. She went easy on him, or else was too weak for a stronger blow. He saw his guards reach for their bows and he scarcely stopped them from making pin cushion of her. "Hold!"
"My King!" Neithan protested. "None shall strike Our King before us and live to tell the tale!"
"They will if I command it. I said hold, you twit." He saw a muscle twitch in Neithan's neck, but the little lordling stayed where he was, though he glowered at his former charge.
He deserved that strike and many more, he knew. Thranduil carefully removed his gloves and knelt in the dirty snow before Chyann MacKenna, whom he had abandoned to Morien's tender mercies. "My Lady, I offer my heartfelt condolences for what you have suffered in these lands. I offer my aid, such as it is."
Her blue-green eyes narrowed at his cavalry. She sniffed. "It'll do for now."
She held out a scarred hand, dappled as her cheeks were with freckles. There were many more healing scabs and cold-dried skin that was broken open on her knuckles. He accepted the humble hand as one even more humble. When he stood, he towered over her, but it was she who was his superior.
She threw her arms around him. Again, he held back his guard as they startled. He felt her tremble against his silver plate, and he held her close to him. His hand brushed her wild red curls down, seeing just how badly this ordeal had rattled her. And he knew that there was worse yet to come. For as frightened as she was now, he knew she would not shy away from the fight. But he would support her and her sisters, as one who owed them a debt of blood, and out of love.
At last Chyann released him. Only one tear stained her rosy cheek, and she left it alone. She cleared her throat. "I need to find Cici. Mellianor won't last much longer; I've done what I can, but Morien's magic and all this cold really sapped her strength."
"I know where they will be going," Radagast stepped forward from behind him, cautiously, Thranduil thought, likely in fear of also being struck. He nearly smiled.
Chyann did smile, then, and embraced the wizard as well. "Dude! You're still alive! Last I saw you, we lost you in the woods!"
"It has been quite an adventure with you young ladies, yes," Radagast huffed. "Your sister and Megan are well."
The relief on Chyann's face would have made a weaker man weep. Thranduil caught sight of the Lothlorien Elves. Haldir, marchwarden of Lothlorien and The King's own kinsman, approached and bowed. His brothers did likewise.
"King Thranduil, the Lady of the Golden Wood sends her regards, and her aid is yours. We would have come in greater strength, had we known the direness of the situation." Haldir spoke in Sindarin, whist Radagast and Chyann caught up.
Gandalf sidled close, presenting Mellianor to him, and Thranduil moved her orphans's hood back. She was extremely pale but still breathing. At the touch of his fingers, Mellianor stirred. She blinked slowly before curling back into Gandalf. "She sent me here as well. I see she was concerned for my timeliness." He sniffed. "A wizard is never late. She ought to know that by now."
"We saved that girl Chyann."
"Well," Gandalf trailed off. "I found this one here. Perhaps that was all I was meant to do."
"Is there nothing you can do for Mellianor, truly?" Thranduil asked. "Nienniel is on the move towards the fortress; we are preparing for a battle. That is no place for healing an ill child."
"I have done all I could, mellon." Gandalf frowned. "In truth that young lady over there did far more than I could. Mellianor's illness is that of the spirit; she is depleted." And at that Gandalf leveled Thranduil with a look. "I do believe that slap was well-deserved."
"I have humbled myself to those I have wronged, Mithrandir. I do not need reminding of my shame from those who were also late."
"Late-!" Gandalf sputtered, and Thranduil turned away.
"Bring a horse for Fire-Born and the two wizards. We must make haste to catch up to Lore-Seer and Nienniel."
"Wait," Chyann called, jogging to catch up to his side, "where's Galdor at? You didn't leave him at home, did you?"
The words caught in his throat. When his silence grew too long to say anything, he looked away.
"No." She shook her head. "Gal- he-he can't be dead!"
"Morien had many spies yet in the palace." Thranduil unclasped Galdor's Gondolin-forged dagger from his belt and presented it to Fire-Born. "He had you all in his thoughts until his last breath, I have no doubt."
When her fingers closed around the hilt, he saw that there was a glow radiating off of her rough skin. Tears struck the elven-wrought sheath, but she said no words as she slung the blade onto her too-wide belt. He noticed her outerwear was oversized and grey, likely borrowed from the Lothlorien emissaries. He made a note to find her better-fitting clothes and battle gear.
The horses were brought forth, and still she remained mute as she mounted with better skill than he would have guessed possible. It was odd to watch over Chyann as though she might break; but it seemed her heart was quiet in grief while in front of his army. Meanwhile Radagast and Gandalf were deep in conversation about the weather, Morien, the dead scouts that walked enchanted, and he joined them, all the while keeping Chyann in sight. He saw her gravitate towards the three brothers and was unsurprised. But when Rumil, the youngest, offered a comforting hand to her, she shook her head. He wondered if Galion could have done anything to lift her spirits, or perhaps Avrith.
He almost regretting making Galion Regent in his and Legolas's absence, and leaving Avrith in the infantry column, but that was where they were best suited. Grief needed to be tended to another day.
Chyann put her heels to the beast's sides and headed south ahead of the column. His captains looked to him in askance, and he nodded his assent to follow Fire-Born. He lingered in the rear with his personal guard and shared yet more words with the two wizards.
"Who is that young lady, my lord?"
"Her name is Chyann MacKenna. She is one of four. My people have been sheltering them for the past few months." Thranduil was loath to say more. Mithrandir was too nosy for his liking.
"But what is she?" Gandalf pressed as he doffed his pointed grey hat. "I have never seen powers like hers in any save the Maiar and Valar."
"No indeed," Radagast agreed. "But here they are, as they are. No more point in pointing out their impossibility than declaring snow is cold."
"You mentioned that one of them has tamed Beorn?" Gandalf asked, and Thranduil could scarcely suppress his surprise.
"Oh, yes," Radagast nodded, "he and Megan get along quite well."
Oh Elbereth... Thranduil prayed, let us hope that it is not Beorn with which Megan intends to strike me. His face still hurt from Chyann's strike. He dreaded to think of death by a Skin-Changer.
Still, hope swelled in him. His hands trembled inside his gloves, aching to rend Morien in two, and to finally steal his woman back.
The Heir to Dale
Whatever happened on that bridge had left the girl beaten badly. When she was brought back into the ruined fortress, she was unconscious and marked with odd wounds. The Dark Elves who supported her between them deposited her carelessly besides Bard, who was sat atop a ragged animal skin. Bard rose to his knees and rolled her over with his newly freed hands. There was no reason . The girl groaned in pain.
"She has vowed to protect you, Lakerat. Let her do so, then." The two laughed.
"Does your Master know you're treating her so?" Bard demanded, remembering the possessiveness with which Morien had handled her.
"Lord Sauron commands us, and you have no place to question us, scum." The one on the left fingered his dagger hilt, so Bard held his tongue. Beside him, the girl convulsed and moaned. Still, he did nothing until the Dark Elves moved on. He removed his tattered coat and draped it over her. The cold stung him, but she needed warmth more than he. "Stay strong, lass, this night will pass. I know not when, but it will." He continued to speak like that, rubbing her arms and petting her hair like he would for his own daughters. She reminded him of his little Tilda, though she was closer in age to Sigrid.
She made no reply to his words, and scarcely seemed to hear them. In fact, he thought she stopped breathing once or twice. At last he drew her onto his lap. Rocking her like a small child. He cupped the falling snow that drifted near in his hands and washed her wounds as best he could. He continued to speak to her, shaking her just enough to rouse her if she seemed too unresponsive. He told her of the sun rising over the Lonely Mountain and shining across Esgaroth. He told her about how the spring and summer thawed the ice that choked the land until dragonflies swarmed the air in search of mosquitos. He spoke about how he would take his son hunting, and how clumsy Bain was with the longbow. He told her about how sweet his daughters were, and that he missed his wife so badly it ached, but how life went on. He told her riddles, and stories about Dale, and the Dwarves of old.
At last her eyes opened as his voice began growing hoarse. "The longbow is difficult, don't be too hard on him." She whispered about how the Elves had taught her how to fight with staff and knife, with bow and arrow and sword. She fought to stay awake, Bard could see, but she was winning. Bard continued to try and warm her as best he could. Her own clothes were thin: her warm fur cloak had been taken away.
"I can see the future," she was saying. "But Sauron is blocking my sight as much as he can. Morien stole my diving cards. My sisters aren't here. I feel like I'm dying." Tears fell from her eyes. "I don't want to die. Not here, Bard. He can find me..."
"I will not let them hurt you." Bard swore, casting about for how he could possibly accomplish that. She shuddered. "Listen to me, Alyx, look at me-!"
She opened her eyes though her tears and met his eye. "You and I will both survive this; do you hear me? We will find a way."
A tremulous smile touched her lips. "Okay..."
Bard could sense a shadow looming over him. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw Morien looming in the doorway to their small cell. "What are you two whispering about?"
Bard felt Alyx tremble under his coat.
"Gossiping like little children, are we?" He scowled at Alyx. "You were lucky to keep your life, my Lady, and I would caution you to not challenge the Dark Lord again. If not for your own sake, do it for your sisters. Someone will have to oversee their burial at the end of this story. Better you than an Orc."
"They might yet prevail," Bard said. Leave her alone, he prayed. Attack me. Let her rest. "I can't imagine how she might have stood up to naught but shadows and ice, but if half of what she says is true, then perhaps you had best be switching sides, my Lord. Perhaps your Dark Lord is wounded too..."
Morien rolled his eyes. "What she dealt him was nothing compared to the might of my master. It was merely a tantrum on your behalf, Lakerat. Thank the Lady and yield her to me."
Bard felt her shake again, but soon heard her giggles. "Oh, you dumbass..." she whispered, "that wasn't a tantrum. That was a signal."
"Get ready." Bard could have sworn her eyes glowed, and he held her against his side even tighter.
"What did you want with me, anyways," Bard said hurriedly, desperate to keep this silly girl, who could not hold her tongue, safe.
Morien smiled. "A simple enough task awaits you, Lakerat. Once we conquer Thranduil's castle, and pluck his army apart, we will drift our merry way down the river. Then, you will stand before your people, and tell them to join you in a new and just world. A world filled with plenty, and peace, and order. Doesn't that sound like a world you should like to live in, Lakerat?"
"Aye, that it does," Bard said. Mindful of his own critique of Alyx, he refrained his own wit. But that is no world you can build without the death of many, and blood will not sustain peace.
Nienniel
The fortress was well within sight when Miriel whispered inside her for them to halt again. She flagged down Carabordid and their ragtag group of hunters paused. Glorindall nodded and their team began the watch on the tree lines on the lookout for enemies. The old Elf woman made her way to where Chardonnay held her ground. "What is amiss?" she whispered.
Chardonnay waited for Miriel to say something inside of her, but the ghost was silent. Chardonnay shrugged. "No idea. She just told me to stop."
"Are you certain she meant to halt, child?"
Chardonnay rolled her eyes. "I understand English just fine, Cara."
"That attitude is unnecessary, Nienniel."
"Sorry," Chardonnay muttered, casting her glance about for any sign for why Miriel might have told her to stop. At last she spoke: I sense a fading spirit approaching. She is surrounded with life, and powerful others whom we have met before.
Chardonnay stood. "Is it Radagast?"
Yes, and another. I sense...
Chardonnay gasped as she heard the approaching thunder of hooves. But beneath the sound Chardonnay sensed her sister.
"CHYAAAAAANN!" Chardonnay wailed, ignoring the protocol set to her by the Wood Elves. If Morien wanted to attack them, let him. She was on top of the fucking world now. Her sister was here, they had reinforcements, and Chardonnay was ready to kick ass.
There was an answering call, and Char burst out from the undergrowth as her little sister emerged from the woods on horseback, her curls flying every which way. Behind her was King Thranduil's calvary. Megan went bolting past her, and, laughing, Chardonnay raced her.
Chyann slid from the saddle while her horse was still galloping and met them at run as well. They slammed into one another so hard they all fell over in a tangle of arms and shrieks to the snow.
Chyann felt and looked a little worse for wear, but she was alive and better than Chardonnay was expecting.
They were all talking at once.
"Where were you?!"
"Cici, I need for you to-."
"-Who're those hot Elves in the grey? They aren't our's. And did you pick up another hobo?"
"He's not a hobo, Megan. And Cici, there's-"
"Chyann you look so skinny! How long did you even run for; why didn't you come look for us right away? We had half an army with us!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but Cici, I-"
"Alyx is still alive, Chy, but we have some other bad news..."
"I know about Galdor, if that's what you mean..."
"Well, yes, but also that we're out of clean underwear."
Chyann scoffed and gave Megan a whap upside her head. "Hey, I'm still processing that, okay?" Now that Megan was quiet, Chyann gripped Chardonnay's forearm. "Mellianor needs your help: she's dying."
Cici felt her eyes pop. "Mellianor made it out? Where the hell is she?!" The three of them untangled as best they could and stood. As soon as Megan was standing she draped herself across Chyann's back. She slipped a bit on the ice, but Chyann regained her balance and hiked Megan up further. Chardonnay surreptitiously wiped away a tear to see them together again. She and Chyann walked shoulder to shoulder, pressing closer than necessary considering the width of the path they were on.
"You're clinging better," Chyann noted. "Have you been up a lot of trees?"
"She's gotten pretty good," Chardonnay piped in. Around them the cavalry flowed as they mingled amongst those who were their makeshift Silvan Elf army. Greetings were called, Elves embraced each other in the double joy of being both alive and their friends not turned traitor.
Hands reached down to touch Chardonnay and Megan as they passed by, calling them by their Elven names and mellon, too,and though she was surprised at first, the gestures of honor brought tear to her eyes, and she returned the blessings.
"Where is Mellianor?" Chardonnay asked.
"Some guy named Gandalf was holding her. He was towards the back with the King."
Chardonnay pursed her lips. "I have mixed feelings about him finally coming."
"That's what she said," said Megan.
"Same," Chyann replied. "I slapped the shit out of him earlier."
"You did what?!" Chardonnay gasped. "You're lying."
"Nope. Ask anyone. I smacked him good."
"Holy shit," Megan had never sounded so impressed. "My hero."
Cici shook her head. "I can't believe you're still alive. Just quit bragging about it."
Chyann laughed aloud. "Not fucking likely."
Finally they made it through the tide of horses towards where King Thranduil had remained in the rear guard. His giant elk probably help him see their coming, so when his guard allowed them to pass, he was already dismounted. Beside him was Radagast and the other wizard who could only be Gandalf. He did bear a striking resemblance to Radagast. They both wore humble robes, well tattered by the weather and constant use. Moreover, Chardonnay espied his own staff held in the crook of his elbow. Enfolded in his arms was Mellianor.
Chardonnay gasped. Melli was fading. Was this what you sensed, Miriel?
Yes, the spirit replied. I will aid you. Chardonnay hurriedly held her arms out for the small child, heedless of the king. She held Mellianor close and sank to her knees.
"Melli? Mellianor, it's Chardonnay. You braided my hair so well, remember? You'll have to do that again for me, okay?"
Mellianor stirred as Chardonnay let her energy flow into the child. A small smile bloomed on her face as she snuggled closer into Chardonnay's breast.
Inside of Mellianor was not the corruption of Darkness, like she would have suspected having been around Dark Elves, but rather utter depletion of her energy sources
She must have somehow used magic to evade the hunters, Miriel murmured. Chardonnay nodded in agreement. That's what it feels like. She had an idea. She closed her eyes and found the chakra points that Chyann used most often: core colors of green and yellow and orange. Where there were embers, Chardonnay used her energy to kindle Mellianor's own ability to produce energy.
"Anyone have some high-starch food?" Chardonnay looked around. "She needs calories."
"Here, my Lady, give the child this." one of the Elves in grey who had been rising near her sister knelt and presented a leaf-wrapped package. Curious, Chardonnay plucked a piece of what looked like a biscuit and help the piece to Mellianor's mouth. "Eat, baby. It's gonna help you get strong!"
Mellianor devoured the piece. Chardonnay was surprised at how much energy was in that little piece, and she absently asked what it was while she worked on Mellianor, healing and easing her muscles that were stiff from cold.
"'Tis lembas, my Lady, a gift from the Lady Galadriel."
"Who? She sounds super familiar, but I can't remember right now."
Megan answered. "Uh, she's only the most badass Elf in all of Middle Earth? She's been alive since the first age? Sauron is the second Dark Lord for her? Lives in Lothlorien? Super gorgeous? Ring a bell?"
"No. I missed that lesson."
"Bull."
"No, I didn't. I was with the Healers by then."
"Ah."
The strange Elf nodded to Chardonnay. "The Lady sent us to your aid, I believe. She sensed a great power growing in King Thranduil's walls. She extends her aid and counsel-."
"Haldir." The King snapped. "Now is not the time to be poaching mine charges."
"Yeah, you don't get to talk, buddy," Megan rounded on him and planted her hands on her hips. "I'm thinking I may need a vacation after all this mess. Maybe we could go visit her." She looked at Haldir. "Does she like kids?"
"I suppose," Haldir raised a brow, "though no child has dwelt in the Golden Wood since the Second Age."
"Then it's settled." Megan smiled. "We're forest-hopping this spring."
"If we survive," Chyann muttered.
"If you die, I will fucking kill you," Chardonnay growled, swatting at Chyann's pant leg. Her little sister jumped out of the way, giggling.
When the laughter quieted, Chardonnay noted Megan's silence and growing physical agitation. When she looked up, Megan was facing the fortress to the south. Thranduil stood beside her, holding her hand. She was gripping him so tightly that she shook.
"Megan?" Chardonnay struggled to her feet while holding Mellianor. "What's wrong?"
"...While we're out here singing kumbaya...he was hurting her..."
Fear and guilt seized Chardonnay's throat. The Elves and wizards around them quieted. Chyann looked how she felt. They exchanged a glance and nodded.
"Let's go kick Morien's ass." Chyann had to clear her throat and lost whatever bravado she attempted.
"It wasn't Morien. It was Sauron. He..."
"Megan," Thranduil looked her in the eyes," we must go. We all share your grief, but guilt will not heal her wounds or turn back time. Do you understand?"
Tears welled and spilled over in Megan's feather-framed eyes. "Yes..."
"Then we move. Now. Find a horse. We must pierce their defenses."
"Let's talk to Glorindall first," Chardonnay said. "He went ahead to scout."
"We may as well gather in council, my Lord," the guy named Gandalf said. "To best assess all of our resources."
Megan's eyes blazed. "Y'all have two hours. After that, I am storming that fucking castle to go get my cousin."
"We're with you," Chyann nodded.
"No, you aren't." Chardonnay and Thranduil said at the same time. Thranduil yielded the floor to her. "We were already captured once, Chyann. We weren't even attacking a stronghold; we were in the middle of the fucking woods in no-man's land."
"It was my land," Thranduil bit, but Chardonnay just rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Chyann, Megan, you attack them without back-up and you will be killed. Or worse, captured again. Besides, you hate heights. Hold your horses, both of you, or I will tie you to them. Understood, you two?"
Megan huffed. "I hate it when you get bossy, Char."
"Yeah," Chyann was embarrassed. But Cici didn't care. Their safety was worth more than pride.
She double-checked that Mellianor was redeveloping her own energy. All felt well within her, now. Chardonnay continued to pour her energy into Mellianor, though, just to be safe.
Children of the Eldar are more resilient than those of the Edain, Miriel said. This one is a Silvan Elf, and she will endure, as her people endured long before the Noldor touched these shores.
I really need a more in-depth history lesson, Chardonnay mused as she handed Mellianor to an Elf soldier. Mellianor was fresh out of family, save the Unseen. A ward of the State of the King. Her guardian, Gwindor, she was told, had remained in the palace, minding more of the parentless children.
At the thought of wards, Chardonnay looked around. "Where's Tauriel?"
Megan flapped her hand. "Hell if I know. Let's just get the council thing over with."
Tauriel
I found you. Tauriel strained her eyes, but she finally espied Far-Seer within the fortress walls. The architecture was weak in several places, admittedly, but the base was too far away for leaping in or tossing a grappling hook. She shook her head. None in their band had siege engines.
As she scanned yet more of the fortress, she noted the few places where entrance could be attained, other than the main gates, which was foolish to even consider as an option.
The bridge was too dangerous: Tauriel could smell the Possessed shambling around just out of sight. Orcs and Wargs patrolled the main entrances. And if she knew Morien then there must be a barrier. Tauriel thought, perhaps it does not cover as a dome?
The most unseen point of entrance would be to scale the sheer rock cliff the fortress was built upon on the western side, or else to drop in from the top. She scoffed at that. If only, she thought There was no way to fly, except if they had the aid of the Great Birds. I have heard tale of the Eagles for Manwe descending for less dire reasons.
There was something moving within the fortress! Tauriel shank closer to the tree. It was not any Orc or enslaved Warg or wolf... Those were forms Tauriel knew well from both afar and near. Yet something about this shape was inexplicably wrong. She willed her eyesight to be keener, yet she could only discern its shadow.
Yet even that was difficult. At one moment it was a cloud, the next...a tall figure in dark armor. It was watchful...
She could sense that it knew her presence; she was well acquainted with that feeling with having known the Unseen. But she knew she was yet safe at this distance.
The figure turned towards her...and it dissipated in the next breeze. She sucked in a breath, heart pounding as she realized that it was Sauron... that any shadows they had seen thus far were his substance. Tauriel felt unspeakably violated at the idea of that dark mist possessing bodies of the Elves and harming her charges. Fear was replaced by rage.
She turned her sight back to Alyx, but now she was obscured too, by the form of a male... It was not an Orc. It was a man, likely from Laketown, from the look of his coat. She could see him bent over her, speaking earnestly to her. What could be going on? Who was this man, and why was he so close to her charge?
Suddenly Morien was there, speaking to the two of them. She could not tell what he said; the cold wind snatched any sound away ere it could reach her ears.
The man was speaking to Morien, his spine was defiant. Perhaps he was an ally? Tauriel felt impotent and angry; there was nothing for her to do save collect intelligence and pray that nothing evil happened while she stood watch. Fool, she spat at herself, do not act as though your presence is some sort of charm to ward off misfortune. You only want to be spared the guilt.
Tauriel swallowed her bitterness and descended the cold tree; she had collected whatever information of value there was be gleaned from this venture.
Creeping back through the underbrush, Tauriel caught sight of Gildor, old Glorindall, Anfindel, and Laesofin.
"What did you see?" Laesofin asked, as though Tauriel's distress was plain. It probably was.
"I saw Far-Seer. Every entrance to her was well-guarded. And... I saw something else."
"As did I," Glorindall nodded. "I have seen it before. I know it. This evil is not new: it truly is Sauron."
"What can we do against such an enemy?" Anfindel asked.
"We can burn him," Tauriel said. She wondered about Miriel, though. Could the spirit combat Sauron, through the Unseen? "The Unseen all together could perhaps combat his foul magic while we rout his forces."
"His forces are great," Laesofin frowned. "I could see the warg-pits-they are full to bursting, and Orcs and Dark Elves are in abundance."
"I saw the dead walking," added Anfindel. "I knew many..."
"I know your pain, mellon," Tauriel nodded, remembering Amandol and the other deceased Scouts she and the Unseen had faced in the woods. "Fire combats them as well."
"Does Morien truly not know any decency?" Anfindel wiped a tear from his eye.
No one answered, at first.
"No," Glorindall finally said. "He is no longer one of us. Remember that, child. Show them no mercy."
They nodded and ran swiftly back to the encampment.
Mithrandir
The children were hardly the ethereal warriors he was expecting. But then, Galadriel herself admitted to being unable to discern much about them. There was little to note: they were very close friends, they were young, and were of some culture unknown to Mithrandir. Perhaps the love and familiarity of the Dwarves reflected in the embraces, or a looseness of Haradrim women in close quarters with each other. Obviously, the Elvish mannerisms had not yet sunk in, noted Gandalf as he adjusted the brim of his wide hat and strolled through the ranks of Elves and horses. He watched the three young girls carefully; he could tell there was more to them beneath the surface, yet besides his confrontation with Chyann Fire-Born, they showed little of whatever power the Lady had sensed.
He asked Radagast about the smallest one, but Radagast said he knew her the least. "They left the palace in search of her, and Mellianor, actually. She is a Scout."
"A very strenuous job, for such a small person."
"Aye," Radagast nodded. "These woods are unforgiving. But no madness has descended upon yet yet. That I know of."
"What was that about earlier? What did she see?" Megan, as she was called, seized up quite suddenly, whispering of things done to her cousin, and even had the pity of the Elvenking. Tenderness was not a broad stroke in Thranduil's portrait, old and wise though he may be.
"I know that each of the four are very gifted," Radagast pulled his robe higher as they stepped across a snowdrift, "Chyann Nienniel is a healer."
"I gathered that," Gandalf said.
"Her sister is a warrior."
"I am glad to have escaped her wrath." Gandalf frowned. He saw the colors collecting around her shoulders. Something about it was very familiar to him, yet he couldn't quite place it. But her power was plain and terrible.
"Megan Lore-Seer can see the past," Radagast continued.
"Really?" Gandalf frowned. "You don't mean to say she has excellent memory, do you?"
"Well, I suppose, but she sees things that aren't her memories, Gandalf. At least that's what I've gathered. Yes, and her cousin, -"
"She's a witch."
Gandalf and Radagast looked down to see Lore-Seer herself looking at them. She obviously knew their topic of conversation. "She's badass."
"Did you See us speaking of you?" asked Gandalf. He was yet confused about her 'ability'. Did she things in the past or simply memories?
"I could hear you."
"...Oh, well, then..."
"It's pretty common," Megan continued. "Everyone likes to talk."
"Speech is quite enjoyable," Gandalf leaned on his staff, enjoying himself despite the circumstances. Megan rolled her eyes. "Alyx is in there."
"We will find a way to get her back," Radagast said. "She is a crafty young thing, not to worry."
"I know she's smart." Megan's lip trembled a bit. "She's a witch. She's better at magic than anyone here except maybe Morien."
Gandalf looked to Radagast. "Well, my lady, I hope that it serves her well against the Dark Lord."
"We're all following her plan," Megan said, nodding. "She saw all of this. She let all of this happen."
The sheer faith that the girl held was troubling. Idols were dangerous when held against the Valar; and Illuvatar was the one who willed all. To what end, Gandalf could never guess, but it was not his place to know. That right belonged to none save Manwe. No child of Man could possess such a power.
"Megan..." Radagast said, likely echoing Gandalf's own thoughts. "I understand wanting certainty in times of doubt and fear, but mistakes happen."
"Megan is right." Chardonnay wrapped her arm around Lore-Seer. "Some things didn't go perfectly, but so far...this is pretty much what Alyx Saw before Morien captured us."
"How can you know that?" Gandalf asked. His heart was pounding.
In answer Chardonnay opened her hand. From it came white light. Gandalf caught his breath and leaned in. A figure formed into a miniature model of an Elf woman, balanced on the palm of Nienniel. The small hand reached out to touch Gandalf's face.
Words drifted swiftly into his mind.
Hail, Grey Wanderer, friend to Galadriel, formerly Artanis of the Noldor. Know me as Miriel, bearer of the dead child, Morien. I have guarded the Unseen in sleep and against the threshold of death. Now I remain to right the wrongs of my child.
"How in all of Middle Earth have you remained here so long?" Gandalf was bewildered.
Upon my deathbed I bound myself here, until my own child was lost to the Dark.
"Yeah, I wasn't so happy knowing there was a ghost nearby when I was trying to masturbate." Megan scowled. "I miss having a room in general, now. I would totally take a ghost with it."
"Oh my God, me too," Chardonnay groaned. Miriel's light-form faded into the air as Gandalf watched.
"Far-Seer is what the Elves call her." Chardonnay shrugged. "For good reason. She can see the future."
"Impossible," Gandalf stroked his beard. "No mortal should have that power."
"I thought the same, Gandalf, but nonetheless they have them."
"Maybe we're not human anymore." said Megan. "Anyone think of that?"
Chardonnay tightened her arm. "Let's not talk about that, Megan. We have bigger things to worry about. We need to find Aerion and Cara again. They need to talk to the king."
"I have no clue as to who those people are," Gandalf said, interrupting, "but perhaps I can be of aid?"
"You'd better do something useful," Megan said. "And quick, before me or Chyann pop our lids."
"Like I'll let that happen," Chardonnay laughed.
"Oh yeah?" said Megan. "Then riddle me this: when was the last time you saw Chyann?"
"She…uh…"
"Oh dear."
So, where do you think Chyann is? Canoodling with the Lorien Elves? Or plotting her own attack? Or perhaps she's just taking a dump?
