Guys, I am SO sorry for the delay. My internet has been down, and I haven't had a chance to get this up online until just now. Thank you so, so much for your support. And I have a little announcement at the bottom, so make sure you read that. ;) On to the reviews!
sweetmochi, Theekshana, larien numenense, NickeyToron and IhrtArwen, glad you enjoyed it!
Ronan, yes she does! It actually might seem a little bit inconsistent: she'll seem absolutely nuts for a while, her emotions going haywire, and then she'll go through several chapters with a perfectly normal attitude. You'll probably see a bit of that below.
guest and jana349, yeah, Audriel is an awesome fighter. I didn't include much "magic" in this chapter mainly because it's still unclear exactly how much elves can use, so I'm going to hold back a bit on that. :)
Guest - bahahaaha! Oh my goodness, I love that. I totally need to do a parody of that scene now, just for laughs. :p
And here we go. I seriously stressed myself out about sharing this chapter with you guys. I know that some of you have high expectations, and I sincerely hope I'm able to live up to them.
Hopefully, you'll enjoy!
Audriel spun lithely, the sword in her hand a blinding flash of silver amidst the gloom that surrounded them all.
She fought effortlessly, without conscious thought or action. The blade was an extension of her body, a piece of her that she was incapable of letting go.
She fell to one knee, ducking the awkward thrust of a Uruk-hai. Their stench clung to her clothing, invaded her senses. Her lips curled back into a snarl of pure, undiluted hatred and disgust.
Her blade flashed out, and the Uruk-hai fell twitching to the ground.
Audriel glanced back, a brief stab of concern for Tauriel hitting her quite unexpectedly, and it was unwelcome.
Her movements did not stall, but the world around her became merely an unpleasant distraction.
Audriel was, admittedly, confused as to where she stood. What she had heard from others about her daughter had led her to expect something entirely different. Even the Tauriel - then Seena - she had met and sparred with in the Golden Wood was startlingly unlike what she saw in her daughter now.
Tauriel was Audriel's blood-daughter, but she had looked at her mother with a blank, uncaring gaze and then later on with a mere spark of the fire Audriel had expected to see.
The flame had gone out.
Muted, somehow. Smothered underneath someone else's hand.
Audriel pulled herself from her thoughts, separating a Uruk-hai from its head with a clean, steady stroke. Her sleeves were drenched in black blood, the thick liquid reeking of rotting flesh.
She almost collided with Thranduil's son, and scowled at him, feeling disgust bubble up in her chest.
Irrationally - or perhaps entirely rationally, depending on how you looked at it - she hated him. She had taken in the looks that passed between Tauriel and the Greenleaf prince, and she had hated him. She had met his eyes and his bland diffidence towards her and hated him. And she had taken a certain pleasure in jabbing at him with needle-sharp words, enjoying immensely the sight of him blanching as she carelessly threw her plans to the winds and spoke freely.
Audriel smirked at the memory, dispatching three more Uruks.
The dwarf she had noticed previously shouted something. It took her a moment to process the words.
"Legolas! Two already!"
The princeling turned. "I'm on seventeen!"
"I'll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!" the dwarf roared.
Audriel took a heartbeat to gape in disbelief at them. Their jesting attitude to the fight surrounding them nearly made her ill. She had spilled enough blood to know that one should never, ever see a battle as a game.
To see yourself as a pawn, ready to be moved by a player, was too dangerous. To keep yourself alive, you had to plan your own moves, make your own calculations.
For the dance of Death was fast-paced, never ending, and if you missed a crucial step you would find yourself wrapped in shadowy arms and the world would go dark around you and life would fade into memory and then nothingness.
Tauriel ducked and whirled, moving as one with Eowyn as the Uruk-hai swarmed around them. The small group of women still stood strong, cutting down enemies beyond count. They had slowly started to group together, pairing off in groups of two or three, standing back-to-back, trusting each other with their life.
"Eowyn!" Tauriel called, breaking the silence between them.
The girl turned to face her, and though her face was pale and splattered with blood, she stood without a trace of fear. "Aye?"
"We have to get to the others," she shouted over the noise, ducking a ugly black blade and sending a knife sailing into the Uruk's eye socket. "We have to find them!"
Eowyn nodded, accepting Tauriel's words without a second thought, and turned to shout an order. Tauriel began to carve a path through the hoard of filth before them, channeling all her anger and regret and pain into the twin blades in her hands.
Teeth bared, she screamed a battle cry of defiance in a Uruk-hai's face and slammed her blade up into its chest cavity, bypassing the armor and sliding the dagger straight up into the beast's heart. It stuck, hilt-deep, and she felt sticky fluids spilling over her fingers. She twisted the blade, hard, and stared the creature in the eyes, watching as the light slowly dimmed from the bright yellow orbs.
As the monster slumped over, she shoved it off her blade and turned in time to catch another as it arced down towards her back. As she moved to kill the Uruk-hai, a blade erupted through its chest, the point beaded with blood. The beast slid off the sword, falling to the ground and revealing Eowyn standing behind it, flanked by the other women. Tauriel's eyes flicked over the group, and came up three short.
She hardened her heart and turned away.
"Legolas!" she cried over the noise. "Gimli! Aragorn!"
"Tauriel!"
She sagged slightly in relief. Legolas slashed his way towards them, and for a moment she forgot the keen knife of betrayal he had slid between her ribs and met his eyes in open, honest relief.
The lightning flashed above them, illuminating the blood-slicked stone beneath their feet and sending her crashing back into reality. There was a shout of near-panic from Aragorn somewhere out in the gloom, and Tauriel flinched. She could not remember a time she had ever heard him sound truly scared.
Tauriel glanced at Eowyn, who nodded once, and then spun and raced towards Aragorn's side.
Almost immediately, she saw what had him so worried.
Uruks were strapping something onto one of their own, cheering, slamming the butts of their spears into the earth.
Chills raced down Tauriel's spine. Whatever this was, it was not good.
The Uruk-hai lit a torch and passed it to the chosen one amongst them.
"Togo hon dad, Legolas!" Aragorn shouted.
Legolas fired off an arrow, and within a heartbeat Tauriel had followed suit.
The Uruk-hai stumbled and nearly fell, but kept lunging onward.
"Dago hon! Dago hon!" Aragorn's words were almost pleading now, though she still did not entirely comprehend why.
In the process of nocking another arrow, she stopped. The world blurred. Slowly, she removed the arrow and turned to a torch, dipping the arrowhead into the globlets of fat and then setting it on fire.
She turned, pulling the bow almost to a full draw. Flames singed her fingertips, but she did not feel the pain.
Beside her, Legolas sent another arrow flying.
Carefully, Tauriel aimed, compensating for both the beast's momentum and the extra weight on the arrow. She did not aim for the Uruk-hai's flesh, but for whatever was strapped on its chest. Something - something - warned her that the cloth sack was what she needed to destroy, and that only fire would do the job.
The arrow hissed away into the night, a streak of flame against the darkness.
There was a moment of utter stillness around her and she closed her eyes, knowing that the shot was good but still fearing the result.
Even through her closed lids, she saw the massive explosion of light.
Just feet away from its goal, the explosives strapped to the Uruk-hai's chest caught spark and then fire and blew upwards in an explosion of white flame. The wall crumbled slightly, but Tauriel knew that the damage was far less than it would have been had the creature accomplished its goal.
Uruk-hai were rushing forward, pulling at the stones, clearing the way for their entrance beyond the wall.
Tauriel stood frozen in disbelief, though she knew she had to move, to fight, to do something, barely feeling Aragorn's quick, hard hug of shaky relief, nor Gimli's roar of pride and Legolas's quiet, simple words of praise.
Slowly, slowly, she turned and met her mother's eyes. She did not know how she had sensed Audriel's presence, nor how the elf was even there. Green sparked against green, clashing fiercely. Tauriel still was not entirely sure how she should act around Audriel, nor what she should say or do. She wanted to love her mother, but found that she could not quite force herself to do it.
Abruptly, Audriel nodded.
As one, they turned away from each other, and Tauriel stumbled her way towards Eowyn and back into the fight, ignoring the gore soaking its way towards her skin and the way the cut of her left hip stung every time she took a step.
There would be time enough for that later, she told herself.
But for those who still stand against the pull of Shadow, all would be lost.
Lady Galadriel's fingers trailed across the smoothness of hard, cold stone, letting her mind wander. Her consciousness reached out and brushed against others', and then something jolted hard against her thoughts and forced its way inwards.
My Lady Galadriel.
Arwen. What is wrong? She was surprised that the girl had found the strength to contact her from so far away, and briefly wondered if Arwen had defied her father's wishes to have his daughter sail.
The elleth struggled to convey her message using words, then gave up and shoved a group of blazingly bright images through their mental link.
There was a moment of miserable silence.
I'm sorry, Arwen whispered.
The Lady of the Golden Wood bowed her head. There was always a risk. Always a chance. We both knew that. And even now, what you saw may not come to pass. There is always a piece of the puzzle that is lost. The future is a tangled web and is often difficult to unravel. I thank you for your warning.
In her mind's eye, the Lady of Lorien saw Arwen dip her own head. There was a look of immeasurable sadness in the elleth's eyes, though her face was serene. May the sun and stars watch over you.
And may the sea guide you safely home.
The elleth's presence vanished as quickly as it had come.
Her dream-world had shattered.
Every piece, so carefully constructed, had fallen to her feet and shattered into a million pieces.
If she was capable of feeling anything, she would have wept.
But her heart had broken long ago, torn itself in two, and she could not remember the last time she had loved or laughed or even truly lived.
"I am lost," she said aloud, speaking into the empty whiteness that stretched on and on and on before her eyes. "The path has been lost to me for so long I fear I will never find it again."
There was a ripple of laughter from the nothingness. She turned her head towards it in disbelief.
A woman stepped out of the whiteness, her body draped in shifting earthy colors and the long locks of her hair like tongues of fire. Vines were woven into her braids; her eyes were the color of evergreens.
"Ah, my child," the woman said gently. "You are not lost quite yet." She raised a hand, and flowers bloomed upon her palm. "Why do you chase after that which is not meant for you?" Gently, she plucked the rose from its stem and held it out. "Just because the blood of Men flows in your veins does not mean you fullfill all their capacity for evil."
"You do not understand," she said brokenly. She traced a line along the veins on her wrist. "My blood - it has turned black. The Shadow has already taken me and now there is no going back."
The woman crouched at her side and took her by the hand. "There is always another way to turn, child."
She met the woman's eyes, green against green, and then looked away. "Why do you give me false promises?" she asked softly. "I am tired of all the lies."
"Look at me."
She refused, her eyes cast downward.
"Look at me, my daughter." The woman reached out one slim hand and lifted her chin upwards. "Look in my eyes and see what you are."
Unwillingly, she did. There was silence, and then she gasped in a breath of air as if it was her very first.
"Then it is not my fault," she whispered. Tears stung the corners of her vision. "None of this - none of it is my fault."
The woman smiled gently. "What they did to you when you were but a babe - no, none of that was your fault. But now you must choose your path, and should it be the right one, the world will remember your name for many a century."
She dropped a hand to her stomach. "I will have a daughter," she said softly.
"Aye. But it will not be her who mends that which will be broken." The woman's eyes were distant as she looked out into the nothingness. "No, not her. Not even your daughter's daughter."
She reached out a hand. "But my daughter. Tell me that she will always have someone there for her, that she will never feel alone as I have felt."
The woman smiled, but there was a terrible sadness to it. "It is time to wake up now," she said. "You must wake up, child." Her voice was fading away, scattered to the winds. "Wake up, and remember . . ."
"The Ents cannot hold back this storm," Treebeard croaked. "We must weather such things as we have always done."
Merry gaped in wordless disbelief for several long moments, sputtering, then finally managed to say, "How can that be your decision?!"
The old tree dipped his head somewhat. "This is not our war."
"But you're part of this world!" Merry cried. "Aren't you?! You must help. Please. You must do something."
He sighed, the sound a great rasping of branches in the wind. "You are young and brave, Master Merry. But your part in this tale is over now. Go back to your home."
Pippin tugged on Merry's sleave. "Maybe Treebeard's right. We don't belong here, Merry. It's too big for us. What can we do in the end? We've got the Shire. Maybe we should go home."
Merry turned to look at Pippin. "The fires of Isengard will spread and the woods of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn. And . . . and all that was once green and good in this world will be gone. There won't be a Shire, Pippin."
Audriel fought mechanically, struggling to ignore the slow, steady drain of her strength. Gore had soaked its way through the leather of her boots and underneath her breastplate, and she could almost feel it burning her flesh.
She spat a mouthful of bile at the ground beneath her and ducked a blow, forcing her tired arms to lift the sword and force it through a layer of armor and into the Uruk's heart.
Block.
Spin.
She nearly lost her balance, righting herself carefully and lifting her blades once more.
Duck.
Block.
Block.
She was breathing heavily, the armor she wore suddenly seeming impossibly heavy as it hung upon her body.
I cannot continue like this, she realized, and parried another blow before dropping to one knee, shielding herself from the battle as she strained for the ball of light nestled deep inside her.
It slipped from her grasp and seemed to turn tail and run, burrowing further down.
Sweat poured from her brow as she reached and - and - there.
Audriel pulled, hard, and as it finally came free she lifted her head and screamed.
She rose after another hearbeat, feeling her tiredness drain away, replaced by a burning energy that, if she did not use it, would consume her.
Parry.
Duck, block, spin.
Stab, slash, parry.
She was moving like the licking tongues of flame that she could almost see around her body, and the power was glorious.
A shout hit her ears abruptly, and she paused, chest heaving.
"Nan barad! Nan barad!"
The Ranger, she wondered, or Thranduil's son?
The cry came again.
"Nan barad! Haldir! Nan barad!"
Audriel whipped around at the name, her attention now focused solely on the marchwarden as he fought. She looked at him and carefully ignored the small ache in her chest that was warning her.
"Nan barad!" Haldir roared, and all around him elves were falling back, going to the Keep as they had been commanded.
Audriel gutted an Uruk-hai with barely a glance in its direction, still staring at the marchwarden.
Time slowed as he finally - finally - glanced upwards and met her eyes.
"Audriel!" he shouted. "Fall back to the Keep!" She did not move, did not think, barely breathed.
He never saw the blade coming.
It fell, heavy and blunted, on his back, and still she stood there, but now there was a vague smile on her lips and the steady pulse of power in her veins.
He fell to his knees, and she could see blood spilling down his neck. The Uruk-hai behind him raised its blade - dripping with elven blood - and roared triumphantly into the darkness.
Audriel stepped forward, sudden rage washing over her, and in one smooth motion she stabbed the Uruk-hai through the heart and pushed it off her blade.
"Audriel," Haldir whispered. Blood was starting to stain his lips, salty as it mixed with his sweat.
She stepped back, regarding him with something very alike to indifference. The wound on his back was not quite mortal, and he would either bleed out or be cut down by another. "I am sorry," she said softly, and it was not a lie. For all his faults and annoyances, the marchwarden was a strong, proud fighter, and she would not wish this death on any of her kin.
"Audriel," he said again.
She dropped to one knee at his side. "Aye?"
His face was calm, void of the pain she knew he must be feeling, but his eyes - his eyes were old and sad and so very, very tired. "End it. I would not remain here like this."
She looked at him, a frown furrowing her brow. There was a deep, throbbing pain somewhere within her rib cage, a sense of understanding. She drew her blade, leveling it before his chest, pointing it at the gap in his once-fine armor. For the first time, she had a kind of respect for the marchwarden, and so she said nothing.
"Audriel."
She stilled her hand and met his eyes once more.
"Your daughter. Love her, love her with everything you are. You will never know what you have until you no longer have her. She is strong, strong enough to tear down the walls around her, but she is also so very weak and broken inside. You made your choice all those years ago, but you can make another now." He coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. "And - tell her that her father loved her. Tell her that - for me."
Audriel's face contorted, and though her arms were suddenly heavy, she slid the blade carefully, almost gently, into his chest, piercing his heart.
He smiled then, the light dimming from his eyes even as she stared at him. His lips formed words, and she bent close to hear them.
"Thank you," he whispered.
He slumped to the ground, leaving Audriel kneeling by his motionless form, shaking, utterly drained.
She stared down at her hands, one of which still gripped the sword. They were stained with elven blood, and as she watched it dripped, scarlet-red, off the tip of her sword.
"He loved her," she said to the darkness, and her words carried mere echoes of pain. "But he never loved me."
Okay, first off: I feel that this wasn't my best chapter. I rewrote it several times, but it never clicked for me. I apologize.
Two: I absolutely hated writing the scene in which Haldir dies. :'( *sniffs*
Three: You people are FREAKING AMAZING. Seriously.
Four: When this fic hits 250 reviews, I'll be posting a one-shot based off of SBI, SIB, and TBE. Here's a snippet for y'all lovely readers:
They awoke in darkness, father and son, and found themselves in another world, another time.
Around them, life dragged itself onwards. They would dream again, and inevitably in their dream-worlds they would find themselves faced with blood-red hair and leaf-green eyes. And if the dream chanced to turn into a nightmare, they would see a lightning-quick smile full of deadly promise, and a silver blade would flash upwards, and the world would go dark.
Aaand five: I have finally stared editing So Be It! None of the chapters have been re-published yet, but they should be soon.
I will update as soon as possible!
