Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I do not own any of the character, places, names, or anything associated with the works of J.R.R Tolkien or the Lord of the Rings (books or movie, whatever). My characters are Anita, Leila, and Arlandria and that is all.
Chapter 49: My Immortal
Anita ran blindly through the dark caverns, the lack of light by which to see did nothing to deter her speed. It had been very advantageous that the tunnel was narrow and didn't branch off, giving her one straight shot back to large caverns where the women and children had been hiding during the battle. The girl didn't slow when the tunnel opened into the glittering caves, torchlight bouncing off the walls creating an odd disco ball effect, she continued to sprint and dodge around the rocky formation within the hollow space. The large wooden doors that led from the caves and into the Keep had been opened and Ani bee lined it for that doorway. Spilling out into the bright morning light the elleth faltered for a moment as she took in the scene before her; dead bodies of men and orc alike littered the causeway and stairs leading to the Hall like morbid confetti. Blood congealed into puddles, red and black mixing together on the ground and seeping into the cracks between the stones. Anita slowed her pace to avoid running into the soldiers that were milling about collecting dead bodies –and body parts- as well as to prevent herself from stepping on any of the deceased. At the top of the ramp, which led from the caves, she halted her progress to take in the sight before her; Gandalf and the King stood amongst the destruction having counsel with Aragorn. She would have been elated at seeing the wizard here had not panic squeezed in her chest painfully when she didn't immediately see who she was really looking for. Her eyes darted around the soldiers in motion all around her, desperate for a glance of his pale blonde hair. It wasn't possible that so many others had survived and he had not…
"Anita!" The elleth's head snapped around at the sound of her name, relief causing a choked gasp to escape her lips. Legolas hastened down the stairs that led up to the Hall and the courtyard above, the sight of him nearly making the girl collapse with happiness. The elf hadn't made it all the way to the bottom before Anita threw herself in his arms and latched on as though to never let go again. "When they told me we had won I had to know that you were okay, I had to know…" Her words were somewhat muffled as her face pressed into the slope of his neck. The prince gently shushed her and soothingly stroked her obsidian hair. They stood holding each other for a long moment as the bustle of the soldiers continued around them, their heartbeats eventually syncing and beating the same rhythm.
Reluctantly Legolas broke the embrace to pull back and look Ani in the eye. "You should return to Edoras with the woman and children."
Anita's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his statement, "Why?"
The inner conflict the elf was suffering though was apparent on his face as he struggled to find the right words. A voice sounding from behind the couple saved the prince from further turmoil, "Because my dear, the Keep needs to be cleaned up, and the soldiers deserve a proper burial." Anita turned to look at the white wizard over her shoulder as he addressed her with a very pointed look on his face. Gandalf knew. Silently she looked back at Legolas, and the sad look on her lover's face that he was trying so hard to suppress left no doubt as to what he had been checking on in the upper courtyard right before she saw him. Anxiety clenched her stomach until it hurt and her throat turned drier than a desert in summer. Carefully Anita tried to step around the elf and gain access to the stairs he was trying so dutifully to block her from. Softly Legolas took her hand in his as she tried to pass him, his gentle grip on her fingers bringing her to a stop.
"Ani…"
"I have to." She cut him off before he could talk her out of it. She had to know for herself, she had to see with her own two eyes…no matter how hard it would be. The prince nodded his head and released her fingers, he knew better than to try and talk her out of something when she had her mind set on it. Hesitantly she climbed the stairs, picking her way around the bodies of men and orc alike. With every step of her ascension her heart beat faster and harder until she was afraid it might burst from her chest, her breath coming in short nervous gasps. Ani didn't have to look behind her to know that Legolas had followed. Very slowly she stepped from the top of the stairs and to the courtyard, her brown eyes sweeping the scene in front of her. She didn't see him at first, not until she had taken a few forced steps further into the massacre before her eyes. When her eyes finally fell on his prostrate form surrounded by dead Uruks a sudden sharp pain in her torso made it intensely difficult to breath. She stopped in her tracks and spun away from the sight, her hand over her mouth. Don't you dare cry, her inner stubborn voice demanded. Anita forced herself to breathe through the pain, in and out, until she was no longer fearful that she would dishonor the battlefield with her tears.
Determined, the elleth dropped her hands back to her sides and squared her shoulders before turning back to face the sight of Glorfindel's dead body. It took every ounce of mental will to propel herself forward, to make her feet take steps that would lead her closer to him. Coming to a stop to stand over his body, Anita took in her mentor and closest friend's deceased form. His eyes were still open, blankly staring across the courtyard to the stairs that led up to the Hall. Even with blood and body tissue covering every square inch of the stone tiles in the courtyard and the bodies on top of it, it wasn't hard to see the wounds that had been dealt the elf that ultimately led to his death. There was one deep gash across his upper thigh which would have been Glorfindel's undoing, if the elf couldn't stand then he couldn't fight. But in the time before that blow had landed Anita could only hope that Glo had given them hell. There was a long slice along his right shoulder that would have effectively disabled the elf's sword arm. If the pool of blood that Glorfindel was laying in was any indicator, the final death strike had been to his back, leave it to a soldier of dark forces to cut down and ancient and well respected elf by stabbing him in the back.
"I will see to it that he is taken care of properly," Legolas' voice faintly drifted over her shoulder from where he stood a few paces back, offering her what little privacy there was to be had.
"No," Anita whispered firmly. Her voice was shaking, she didn't care. " I will do it. I owe him at least this."
"Would you like my assistance?" He wouldn't force his help on her if she didn't want it, the prince knew after all what a painful and private time this was going to be for her. Legolas thought she at least deserved to grieve alone if she desired it.
"No, thank you." During the exchange, Anita hadn't taken her eyes off her teacher, and her eyes remained steadfastly locked on him even as Legolas stepped forward to press a kiss to her temple; he would be there to support her in spirit even if she didn't want him physically around to witness her pain. Without turning her head the girl knew that he had left, the lack of his presence leaving an odd hollow feeling in its wake. She remained stationary despite the movement of others around her; soldiers coming and going, a handful of women electing to return to the Keep and look after the wounded. The hardest part about what lay before her was the mere fact that is wasn't a bad dream, Glorfindel really was dead. Somewhere deep inside she had harbored hope, locked away where it couldn't burden her waking mind, hope that the ancient elf would survive despite the overwhelming odds. Anita had figured that her mentor was posing as a distraction so that the humans would have time to get inside the Hall and then when they were safe Glo would escape to his own safe place to wait out the battle. It didn't matter that the chances of that happening that been slim to none, in her heart Ani had wanted it to be the case, had wanted it so badly. The truth of her friend's demise was a hard pill of reality to swallow.
Now she felt duty bound to see to a proper funeral for the elf that had essentially been the master hand behind caring for her the past few years. But Ani had never had to care for a body or prepare it for a funeral up until this point in her life, and the task of knowing where to start was daunting to say the least. He was a mess, she thought ruefully. Blood spatter was all over his face and hands and smeared across his once shining chest plate. Glo wouldn't have wanted anyone to see him like this, Anita was certain of that , the older elf had always prided himself on his clean appearance. With a task in mind, the girl abandoned her spot studying her teacher's deceased form and strode the short distance up the steps to the Hall. Inside was still a chaotic mess, the contents of the tables that had been overturned to barricade the door were spilt all over the floor; and there they remained. It only took her a handful of minutes to locate the items she was looking for amongst the disregarded odds and ends. With her collected things, a bowl and few cloth napkins, she left the hall and returned to Glo's side; on the way stopping to retrieve a waterskin from a fellow soldier's belt that had fallen in battle. Not like he needed it anymore.
Anita knelt by his side setting her procured tools on the ground, indifferent to the filth that she was kneeling in. Now was the hardest part. Reaching out an unsteady and shaky hand, the elleth leaned over to close Glorfindel's eyes. She had to bite back tears, determined not to cry no matter how it killed her internally to perform such a decisive act. Once they were closed she would never again see his eyes light up with laughter at one of her inappropriate jokes, she would never again be on the receiving end of a well-deserved stern glare of his. Ani faltered when she thought about the last thing she had seen in his blue eyes. Forgiveness. Forgiveness for something he knew that she would blame herself for and he wanted her to know he didn't share in the blame. His last act before sacrificing himself for her protection had been to forgive her, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth to even consider accepting his absolution. Her choices, her convictions, had led them to this place which would turn out to be his final resting place. There was no one to blame but herself. It took every ounce of self-control and will power the elleth had at her command, but she was finally able to muster the strength needed to slide the lids down and close Glorfindel's eyes forever.
Taking the borrowed waterskin, Anita poured a little water into the bowl she had found before dipping the in the cloth napkin and wringing it out. Damp cloth in hand, the girl began a slow and methodical process of cleaning the blood and grime off her friend's body; starting with the face and hands, then scrubbing his chest armor til it gleamed once again in the faint morning light. She tried her best to scrub what blood she could from his clothing and hair, never before being this meticulous in any work she had undertaken. All around her the other bodies in the courtyard were taken away, the Uruks dragged out to the fields to be food for the birds, and the men moved down to the lower yard. Anita heard the word 'pyre' several times in conversations going on around her that she wasn't included in, no one bothered or took notice of her. After she had cleaned Glo to the best of her abilities, she was left with the question of his armor. Would he want to be buried in it? Was that traditional? Ani only needed to consult her inner thought process for a barely measurable second before knowing beyond a doubt that he should be wearing his armor , he had died a warrior and that's how he deserved to be remembered. His sword however…
Anita's brown eyes searched the surrounding area when she couldn't locate Glorfindel's personal blade by his side. She spotted it a few yards away, no doubt where it had been carelessly kicked by some mindless Uruk. Retrieving the sword from where it lay, Ani studied the blade in her hands. She knew it well. This sword had been witness to her training, hell it had been an instrumental tool. The elleth read the inscription on the hilt though she didn't to; she was familiar enough to have memorized it. I am Laurë - The Fist of Glorfindel. This one possession was all that would survive Glo in this world, the only thing left to remember the great and proud elf by. Anita knew beyond a doubt that she couldn't bury him with it, it was the only thing she had of his. Suddenly the elf was gripped by a powerful conviction to see that the sword found revenge in its maker's name, she would take it to the very Gates of Mordor and cut down as many enemies until she felt rectified. And it would take much enemy blood being spilt, gallons, before she would feel sated, of that she was certain. With renewed purpose, the girl's nimble fingers undid the sheath that Glorfindel wore which slung the sword across his back. Anita wiped the blood from the brown leather holster before strapping it across her own back and fastening the buckles on her chest tightly, one over her shoulder and another around her rib cage, so it wouldn't move. Laurë was a slightly longer sword than what she was used to fighting with, a small adjustment that Ani was just going to have to learn to deal with as she slid the fabled blade back into its home—a maneuver which was a bit awkward for her. Legolas reappeared next to her just as she was relieving herself of the short sword which had been lent to her by the Elves of Lorien; she had no use for it anymore.
" I will help you move him to the funeral pyre." It wasn't a question of whether she needed help , obviously she wouldn't be able to move the body by her own desire. Honestly she was grateful that Legolas had appeared to offer her the help instead of her having to seek out a helping hand in this matter, it left her to wonder if he hadn't been watching her the whole time to know when she would need him. Latching her arms under Glorfindel's, and Legolas taking the feet, they worked in tandem to move the body down the stairs and towards the two pyres which had been erected in record time in the lower yard where Anita and Glorfindel had first made their stand together. Two separate pyres had been set up, one for the Elves of Lorien, and one for the Men of Rohan, and it struck the girl as strange that they had been fit to die together but not be burned on a pyre together. Regardless of her personal feelings, they lay Glorfindel amongst the other elves. Together the survivors of the battle had been very efficient in their clean up and collection of the bodies, and beside a few stragglers, she had basically been the last one to arrive at the yard. Stepping back away from the pile of logs and kindle that would soon be consumed with fire, Anita was saddened to have to send her mentor off in such an impersonal way.
"Wait," She gasped and darted forward again to where Glo lay on the wood. Reaching inside his tunic she felt around for the little square of folded paper. When her fingers brushed the material she gave a little squeak of triumph before pulling the worn letter out of the hidden inner pocket. The elleth unfolded the frayed bit pf paper and read through the letter once more. Glorfindel had carried this letter with him for years, the reason behind his tutoring of Anita, and had kept it as his personal tribute for the undying love he bore her mother Arlandria. It seemed only fitting that after keeping it close to his heart for so long that he pass into the afterlife with it as well. As carefully as she could Ani folded the threadbare material again before crossing Glo's arms across his chest, his intertwined fingers resting above his heart; and there she tucked the letter for him to hold onto as the flames would consume him. Confident in her work she stepped back to where Legolas was standing. At least now Anita could be happy that Glorfindel wouldn't be so alone.
Most of the people in attendance for this ceremony had gathered around the pyre where the Men rested together, it was only Anita and Legolas who held particular interest in the pyre where the elves lay. After the first pyre for the Men was lit, a torch was passed to Legolas with which the wood could be set ablaze. " Can I….?" Ani had started to request the honor of setting the pyre on fire, but she knew neither the phrasing to use or if she was even allowed to do such a thing. Legolas looked down at her, the struggle must have been apparent on her face because he wordlessly passed her the lit torch and motioned for her to do the deed. A tight lipped smile was all she could muster as a response, and the girl hoped it looked genuine. For the final time she stepped towards the piled wood, torch in hand. Holding the flame away from herself and the pyre she leaned in close to Glorfindel to whisper, " I'm sorry ." Straightening up, she placed the torch on the pretreated wood that readily lit under the flames, it was only a moment before the entire pyre was engulfed and individual faced were no longer distinguishable in the inferno. Slowly she returned to Legolas' side, the elf prince was saying a prayer in Sindarin for the souls of the departed, that they find their way to peace.
The two elves stood side by side watching their kinsmen slowly burn in the heat of the fire, Anita trembled with the effort of holding back the tears that so desperately needed to fall. Fate had a twisted sense of humor the girl realized as she figured out that the only two surviving elves of last night's onslaught were her and Legolas. A battalion had left Lothlorien, one whole battalion had left behind their lives and loved ones to come here and fight, and none would return home save herself; and it had only been at the repeated sacrifices of others that she be the one to live. And she was nothing more than a spoiled, headstrong, child of Elvish nobility...who was she to outlive brave soldiers who had families that relied on them? In her heart the young elleth was eternally thankful for the sacrifice of others that had allowed her another day of life, but the bitter after taste to that thought would be guilt and self loathing that she had made it out alive against the odds. She dared a glance at her lover, but his face was an unreadable mask of Elvish stoicism; the fall back expression of all their people. She couldn't tell if he felt the same guilt and remorse that was eating her alive, and right now she needed someone to share that burden with. It took her swallowing a few times before she was able to finally speak past the lump in her throat.
"Is it wrong to feel crappy because I survived?"a tear broke free to slip down her cheek, she couldn't bring herself to look at his face when the question finally left her lips for fear of any judgment she might see there on his face for her weakness.
"Oh meleth nîn…" Legolas wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her against him in an embrace, where he held her until the pyres had burnt to the last and all that was left of their brothers in arms was naught but ash and smoke.
My Immortal – Lindsay Stirling (Evanescence cover)
