Sorry I left you such a long time. Thank you all the readers that have been following this story as of late. And thank you all the reviewers! Your reviews really keep me inspired, so please, please, please, if you read this leave a note!
And thank you from the bottom of my heart, Leggy Respect for making this better once again. You are the best :)
Chapter 20 - The sun rose swiftly and Rin woke to a…..
The sun rose swiftly and Rin woke to a white landscape hidden in dense mist. Tessarion stood a few metres away from her, softly murmuring commands at the waking warriors. The fire was put out, the traces hidden underneath the sand. Horses were being cared for and warriors helped each other with their clothing and weapons.
Two of them were dishing out breakfast, some dried fruit and some stale baked bread of millet and flour. She ate little, longing with nostalgia for a bowl of hot steaming rice with a raw egg on top, a dash of soy sauce to bring out the flavor. She tried to imagine the creamy comforting taste of it. With a sigh, she chewed on the dry bread, swallowing with effort.
Her resolve weighing heavy on her stomach, she had not noticed how much noise they were making until they stopped talking altogether, high on alert. She listened intently, but heard nothing. Tessarion motioned towards two warriors who disappeared into the thicket soundlessly. She noticed that Tessarion was not pleased. She frowned. He had put guards up, right? How come the guards had not alerted them?
Soon they returned, speaking softly to their captain. It seemed nothing was amiss, but she saw the tension in Tessarion's shoulders and wondered what he knew and kept to himself.
Soon they mounted their horses, Tessarion instructed his second-in-command, a haughty looking Elf with a complicated name that kept eluding her. He had not spoken with her during their patrol and she suspected he did not speak Westron.
Most of the Guard mounted their horses and one by one, rode slowly past her, nodding at her, or touching their heart and brow in a parting gesture. The words in soft Elvish eluded her, but it was clear they were saying goodbye. The ones she knew better smiled or touched her hand and arm. And then Raithon and Aien stood before her. She felt emotion choke her and she dismounted quickly.
The Elves followed her example, and she was enclosed into strong arms, first by Raithon then Aien. "Thank you." she whispered. "Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for your companionship."
Raithon smiled at her. "Likewise dear Rin. We have learned much and enjoyed our time together. May your sword keep you safe."
Aien laughed at her teasingly. "And may your wits keep you out of orc dung." She couldn't help but laugh at him, glad he lightened their parting with his silliness.
"Likewise, likewise…."
Last it was Tessarion's second-in-command, that stood before her, Naertho, she suddenly remembered. His haughty expression softened slightly when he spoke with a thick accent. "Fare thee well, Rin Shimizu. May your path be an easy one. I hope you find what you seek."
She blinked. "I didn't know you spoke Westron!" she said breathlessly.
He rewarded her with a small tilt of one of the corners of his mouth. "It is not my habit to talk with mortals. You, though seem….. different. I wish you well."
And with that he turned his horse and rode after the Guard into the mist.
She was left with Tessarion and two other Elves, called Elaran and Nindr she knew. Tessarion nodded at her while tugging on the last straps on his horse's back.
With a reluctant sigh she turned to Bethril and hoisted herself up on the animal. The horse's breath made small clouds in the morning chill and the warmth in between her legs made her feel at home. Steeling her resolve she turned Bethril towards Tessarion and his companions who were already heading north.
Xxxxxxxxxx
In the stables, Glorfindel noticed with relief that for once the twins were well-prepared. They had arrived in the busy stables armed to the teeth, only an hour after they said their goodbyes to their father. They were dressed in their normal dark travel clothing, although their mantles were made for cold weather for they were lined with white fur. It was the fur from defeated White Wolves, the ferocious species from the Northern lands and it seemed fitting for the sons of Elrond on what might be their last journey. In addition to their regular swords and knives, they carried a bow, a quiver with arrows and to his relief a shield. It seemed they took their resolve seriously.
Was there still hope for them?
Elrond seemed to dismiss hope as of late, at least in concern for his sons. But a small voice inside himself, would occasionally tell him that hope was ever present, in the most unlikely places or situations, evoked by the most unlikely people. He smiled to himself. Yes, there was hope after all…
The twins acknowledged their captain with a small nod. The warriors gave them strange looks, for it was rare when the sons of Elrond would venture out with the Guard, but they were ignored pointedly.
They greeted Mithroch and Suldal with few words and soft caresses. The simple joy of the animals at their sight warmed their hearts and they felt the familiar anticipation before travelling to the wild.
Saddling the horses took a toll on their physique. They had fooled their father by acting out during his treatment, pretending that pain wasn't there, hiding the more severe parts of their wounds. Wounds that limited their ease of movement now, it seemed. The strain that caring for the horses had on their muscles made them almost nauseous, but they did not show it to the others. So they worked until they were ready to lead the horses out of the stables.
But there was no fooling Glorfindel. Their old mentor had stared at them, understanding immediately how bad their state really was. In the dim light, he noticed their stiff movements and pale skin. Their injuries were more severe then they let on. He sighed. He would live with it. The situation was too desperate to complain and confront them for their recklessness. He needed their skills in battle for this.
Assessing his Guard, he counted the heads of his warriors, three ellith among them. His heart clenched. He saw them as equals generally, but his male heart could not help but feel responsible for sending women to this gruesome battle. But he would not respect them when he chose to leave them behind, and they would tell him that and make his life a living hell should he survive. He sighed. There was no time for softness in a warrior's life. They chose this path. He would trust they were capable of staying alive.
xxxxxxxxx
Rin was riding in a trance. After many kilometres, it seemed that instead of moving forward, the dark grasslands were rolling underneath her, the endless starlittered dome slowly mimicking that movement towards the same direction. It was an unnerving sensation. The darkness made her world seem small, as if the land was created before her and disappeared behind her into a great dark mouth swallowing everything.
A dark mouth? The turn in her thoughts surprised her. They seemed to dive into a negative spiral on their own. Could she blame it on her mental distress of leaving Tessarion and the Guard? Or was her soul in pain, being separated from a kindred one?
Her mind travelled towards her departure. She had followed Tessarion with care. Bethril had some trouble with the rocky surface of the gorge that they were following. Behind her Elaran closed the rear. Somewhere behind her line of sight she knew rode Nindr, an energetic Elf that made her laugh often, with his silly jokes. In contrast with his jesting nature, he was an expert scout and could be vigilant and silent as a cat. He knew the lands and the animals by heart and could pass these lands blindfolded if need should be.
The rocky walls that were closing in on them had a reddish teint, that she imagined would glow beautifully in the setting sun. But instead the mist made the color faint and uncertain. Sounds were bouncing off the walls that towered above their heads, and the echoes that followed disappeared in the thick mist as if absorbed by cotton.
She had understood Tessarion's concern then. The maze that they were moving through, was a treacherous network of quick passing waters and steep walls. If she would meet the enemy here, she would be done for, but she could just as easily get lost and starve to death. She had felt grateful for his presence and guidance.
The twists and turns seemed endless, the path to take often unclear or hidden. The natural beauty of nature around them humbled her into silence. Elves moved certain and with confidence, there was no hesitation, no pauzes. They were at home here. This was their realm and she felt faintly jealous of their belonging.
They travelled until early afternoon when the ground in between the rock formations slowly descended towards more open terrain. She could not see far, for a sea of low hills obscured the view, but it felt very exposed, with only here and there clusters of boulders to hide. She knew where these rolling hills would end. She calculated that it was a week of riding before she could see the first hints of the northern mountains.
And now, she was here, on the large and open grass plains, thundering towards the north as if pulled by the magnetic core of the mountains that were lying invisible in the darkness. She thought back to their goodbyes.
"This is where we must part, we will not travel beyond the borders of our realm. You can find your way more easily in these lands." The words of Tessarion shook her from her reverie, staring at the road that she would take.
She had nodded silently.
Elaran and Nindr had turned their horses, riding slowly past her. They both had grasped one of her shoulders, squeezing slightly in a silent goodbye and rode past her viewpoint back into the myriad of canyons.
And then she was alone with him. That gorgeous Elf. His beautiful warrior physique, his perfectly carved features, his kindness. It all felt unreal for a moment, this goodbye. Was she going through with this?
Tessarion had stared at her, impassive, but his eyes betrayed his sadness. They both dismounted, walking towards each other. Feeling his body warmth, she stared up at him, taking him in for a few fleeting moments. Then she closed the distance and embraced him, laying her head on his chest.
He enveloped her into his arms resting his head on top of hers, slowly breathing in her scent. They stood there for it felt like an eternity. Then Tessarion lifted her head with his hand underneath her chin and dipped towards her to capture her lips. The kiss was sweet, intense and full of passion. It was over too soon.
Then he released her and stepped backwards, creating a distance that she had felt physically, like a dagger in her heart.
She felt tears brimming in her eyes. A whispered "Tessarion…." escaped her lips.
She heard: "Shhhhh…."
He kissed her brow, "Bain nîn*…"
He kissed her cheekbone, "Maethor nîn*..."
His breath traced her skin and his lips found her mouth, "Melleth nîn*…."
When he stepped back for the second time, he doubled the distance, while adding wistfully: "My mind tells me this journey will bring you wisdom. But my fea is mourning your departure. I will miss you Shimizu Rin. May the Valar keep your path clear of danger. Be safe."
She had to swallow and force herself not to cry. "I will." she could only whisper. Her last words took all her courage to say out loud, but she felt it was important to tell him what she felt. She had trouble looking him in the eye, so she stared at the ground when she uttered her words. "Tessarion….. thank you for showing me that love can be a sanctuary, a freedom, instead of a prison or a door towards fear…. arigatou gozaimasu..." She had bowed to hide her emotions from him.
His wise eyes had widened slightly in understanding. And soon they showed gentle admiration, supported by a tender smile.
To her great relief, he had not asked her what she meant. He understood. And no more words were necessary.
"Namárië" he said, holding up his hand for a moment, palm facing her. A gesture of formal goodbye.
He mounted his horse then. And rode past her, towards the gorges. He did not look back.
From there she had rode further north. A great weight was lifted from her heart and head, being replaced by euphoria. And for a while the adventure lured her into happy spirits, a high above anything she experienced before. She felt free at last.
Xxxxxxxxxx
The search for the other Guard had taken longer than expected. Glorfindel sat in his saddle like a rigid reed, biting the inside of his cheek. Loose strands of golden hair danced around his face on the rhythm of the wind. An ever present witness of the turmoil in his mind, it was unheard of that he forgot to braid his hair! The urgency and vigilance that he felt, radiated through the warriors and their horses, making their animals fretful and the warriors on high alert to the point of plain out nervousness.
The sons of their Lord rode in the rear, silent and brooding. Their appearance in the stables was greeted by few with enthusiasm and caused confusion and suspicion for others. They were a rare sight on patrol. Their behaviour was too unpredictable and selfish to earn respect from the Guard as a whole. Their reputation of repeated neglect of their responsibilities connected to their lineage and birthright, made them a threat to the safety of their realm. A realm the Guard had vowed to protect at all cost. So there was apprehension and mistrust. These negative feelings were caught into a downwards spiral fuelled by the dark mood the twins were in. Nothing good would come of this.
Glorfindel felt it keenly for a moment. The darkness of two broken fea's brooding at the rear and his own turmoiled fea at the front and his warriors stuck in between. He took a deep breath. This would not do. He was Captain of the Guard, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, he was Slayer of the Balrog. And like a cloak he wrapped himself in his power. For the warriors in his wake it seemed as if the sun had suddenly broken through and was shining through him, gold and warm. His face became fair and young and fearless and full of joy. His eyes bright and clear, wisdom sat on his brow and strength ran through his limbs. He shouted in the wind, kicking Asfaloth forwards storming towards the horizon. His clear voice made the warriors sit up straight, laughing again, urging their steeds to follow their Captain with renewed spirit.
In the rear the twins felt it too, as if a warm sun penetrated their cold minds and bodies with difficulty. Their minds had been wandering towards dark and evil things. Rin's safety was their concern, and their failure at keeping her safe, had kept feeding their guilt and fear, until there were no other thoughts in their minds.
They knew what Glorfindel was doing now and why. Elrohir relished his powers like a blanket in the cold. Elladan smiled at his brother, a tiny shard of hope in his eyes. And Elrohir could understand it. Yes. Yes! There was hope, still. Not all was lost. And they tagged along the group, swiftly and silently, anticipation running through their veins like hot liquid, their injuries forgotten for a moment.
xxxxxxxx
When Tessarion's Guard came into view, it took Glorfindel a few heartbeats for his brain to catch up with his eyes. It was a mess of bodies, animals and movement. Sounds of clattering weapons filled the air, accompanied by sharp cries. Shields caught the sun and flashed. Startled he stopped Asfaloth with one quick word, taking the battle, for that was what it was, in. And he did not like what he saw.
This was not a battle, it was a massacre! The Guard was surrounded by a much larger battle force of vicious looking orcs and wargs. He saw glimpses of elves that fought for their life, barely managing. And to his dismay he saw between orc legs, the broken bodies of warriors on the ground. There was no room for glory hunger, no respite for cool rational warfare, this fight was brought down to mere survival. His eyes scattered all over the battlefield, and then on the farthest side he glimpsed Tessarion, holding his position against a warg and a large orc. Glorfindel felt a cold rage take hold of him.
He raised his sword silently in an effort to keep his mind clear and to signal his Guard. He hoped that Tessarion would spot them in his arduous situation, but dared not make noise, since an opportunity to surprise the enemy should never be wasted. His anger fuelled his power within an instant. He could feel his Guard becoming still and alert, ready and eager to plunge into the battle and save their kin.
And then he lurched forward on Asfaloth at great speed, the feel of the massive group of warriors behind him propelling him even faster. And like a wave crashing onto the shore, they dived into the battle with vigour. The collision brought an explosion of sound, movement, and blood. And then the movement stilled within the writhing mass of bodies, there was no room to manoeuver, everything was cramped and desperate.
Glorfindel's power penetrated this mass like a sword, orcs and wargs alike cowering in fear for the Elf Lord in his wrath, his light too bright for them to bear. Glorfindel used this momentum to reach for Tessarion, cutting through the battlefield like a knife through butter. His heart ached in sudden fear, while his warriors crashed shields and swords into their enemies. He had lost his view of his friend. Where was he!
Elladan and Elrohir had followed in Glorfindel's wake. They knew desperation when they saw it. They knew most of these men, some intimately, but their only thoughts were of Rin when they entered the battle wrapped in their power and filled with rage. Their fear and concern combined with the strange warmth radiating from enemy flesh and the smell of blood was a familiar setting and within the blink of an eye they were transported back to that dark day they rode out to save their mother.
The powerful flashback made them falter and their world slow down. The desperation of that event in their past, aligned itself with the present, taking the fragile hope that was held up by Glorfindel's light into a downward spiral towards that dark moment in time. They had never spoken of their rampage into the enemies den to their father. Nothing about the sheer desperation that made their pain ease just enough to keep them functioning. That rampage had been the moment they exchanged their purpose for another. Nothing else mattered but to get her back and take their revenge for the consequences of her imprisonment and torture. They denied their heritage and life itself, only accepting death, suffering and revenge. It was a one-way path toward the roots of the mountains and their eternal darkness, a suicide mission to bring her back into the light or die trying.
The flashback lifted as quickly as it had captured them and they shared a knowing look. Silver grey met silver grey. For the first time in centuries, their one-way road on the downward spiral seemed slightly different. They had confided in their father, sought out his help. They had admitted to themselves that they reached the end of their headstrong resolve. For the first time in centuries, they found themselves in uncharted territory. And the only way forward seemed to be straight through this battle to find her. Their war goddess. They did not know what lay in their future, death or fading, pain, sorrow, or even some form of happiness? But they would accept whatever change finding her would bring them. They felt a shred of hope, although it was still a hope undefined and aimless. And with a small nod, they focussed on the fight with their body and mind, surrendering to the violence, adapting to it and riding it. But their fea concentrated on finding that other one, the only one that mattered to them. Where was she?
It was a tangle of bodies, sprays of blood, stench of guts, the metallic taste of rusty weaponry, the earthy smell of animals. The sons of Elrond were a sight to be seen in their might, for their fear and teared fea unleashed their power without control, dancing around them like liquid chaos. And where their Lord Glorfindel was like the sun, the sons of Elrond used their raw uncontrolled power like a counterweight, pushing at the darkness. The warriors of Tessarion's Guard welcomed the sight with relief and hope, to have their Lords' aid at this most desperate of times, no matter how unconstrained.
Still the additional reinforcements did not decide the battle so easily. The orcs were vicious, harsh, intelligent, their wargs likewise. The range within individual battles was too close for comfort. Room to move a sword properly was non-existent. Within this close range, the weight of the opponent was a dangerous weapon. The twins found that there was no time to reflect on small victories, because others were filling the empty place as quickly as water. Within each momentum they scanned the ground underneath, fearing to see a mob of ink black hair, but they never saw it, nor did they feel her fea. Where was she?
Tessarion fought with his last strength, facing a more skilled enemy then he could remember fighting for centuries. It took all his creativity and cunning to keep alive. There was no room to move. Bodies were trapping the reach of his sword. Fallen bodies made him stumble. The stench of guts and blood was so intense that, combined with his fatigue, it was distracting him. The wargs kept attacking in succession making him wary, exhaustion slowing his moves.
Still he dominated his part of the battlefield. His fallen enemies were littered across the ground around him. Lord Tessarion, Captain of the Guard was a formidable enemy to face in battle and the orcs's courage was fuelled by numbers while fighting this Elflord. They kept attacking in multiple pairs. And now two wargs and one orc were left and Tessarion had run out of energy. The wargs were wearing him out, slowly but surely. For a mortal eye Tessarion's movements would be too fast for eyes to follow, but the orcs were not mortal and they saw. They saw each hesitation, each small tremble and like sharks in the ocean smelling blood, they smelled weakness.
Glorfindel noticed a shift in dynamics around him. Ploughing through the battle on his horse he was slowly but surely maneuvered towards the side of the battle by the sheer mass of bodies. Tessarion's braided head was disappearing in the writhing mass. He cursed, jumping to the ground, smacking his horse on his hindeside. "Norolim, Asfaloth!" he cried. The horse leaped away from the battlefield towards relative safety and he felt satisfied. When in need, a single call would be answered by the loyal steed without hesitation. Relieved from his concern for the horse he focussed his mind towards his friend. Gripping his sword with two hands, he plunged himself back into the battle, not heavy with power this time, but silent and unseen and with purpose.
Mowing down enemies with lightning speed, he soon was forced to work with his long dagger due to the closeness of the fights. Flashes of the elven warriors around him, made him grip his dagger even stronger. They were on the turning point, they needed to end this quickly or Tessarion's warriors would be overrun and beyond saving. But he needed to make sure their captain was safe first, lest Elrond's prophecy would come to pass.
Finally to his relief he spotted Tessarion close by, but the state he seemed in made his heart stop. Tessarion was visibly cursing, cornered by a warg and two orcs. His shoulder seemed seriously hurt and bleeding, hanging limp from his side, his sword arm Glorfindel realised to his dismay. His demeanor was one of exhaustion, the orcs had deliberately worn him out. After all these long years of servitude for this realm, he had never seen his friend in this particular dangerous tipping point. This was Tessarion, his relentless and ruthless counterpart. No mercy for his enemies nor his warriors and least of all for himself. And here he was, at the end of his physical and mental reserves. And Elrond's premonitions crashed into Glorfindel with renewed actuality.
Slicing a rather large and limping orc down with a powerful blow, Glorfindel had almost reached his friend. But it seemed that the progress he made would not make any difference, he knew with utmost certainty that he would not be able to reach his friend in time. As if the mere thought was instigating reality, Tessarion's enemies seemed to gain upper hand. With a blinding reflection his sword was wrenched from his fingers, his dagger already long gone. Glorfindel felt himself blanch at the sight. No! No! This was not meant to pass!
The warg that jumped at him was too close for comfort, its death like breath caressing his face, its teeth grazing his face until blood was drawn. In a reflex, Tessarion gripped its bottom jaw with his hand, squeezing with his immortal strength, forcing the animal's head down. He was desperate and in his panic, adrenaline rushed through him. Quick as lightning he pushed his foot on its neck with all his might, effectively breaking the animal's neck while pulling its jaw out of its head. The movement made him evade the heaving blow of a sword over his head by lucky chance, the orc of its making cursing loudly when it hit his companion.
Agile as a cat Tessarion rose to face his two attackers, wondering how he could survive without weapons. One orc was cursing a wound inflicted by his companion, the other, its black eyes battle crazed, raised his sword for a final blow, that would end him surely. This was not happening! He should be saving his warriors! Not failing them!
Then a shout reached him and he instinctively understood its meaning, searching frantically for a flash of metal. Within the blink of an eye, his raised hand gripped the cold heaviness of a perfectly balanced sword. Vaguely he realised he knew this sword. A flicker of hope ran through him. But it was too late! The enemy sword was already descending upon him. He gripped the sword with unease in his non-sword arm. There was no room for him to lift his new weapon. Panic gripped him. Then a flash memory hit him like a rock - Rin teaching him her strange but effective moves of defence. And within the blink of an eye, he moved slightly to the side in a desperate attempt to evade the sword. Within this movement he managed to turn his sword in his hand until he handled it in reverse grip. With effort he pulled it upwards, effectively carving a large and deep deadly gash, through the orc with his inhuman strength.
His brief moment of victory, was soon clouded by a sharp invasive pain from his side. Within a haze he realised the other orc had managed to cut his side with its dirty blade. He pivoted towards it, swinging his sword with all his might, the fatigue making him turn too far to see the results. But to his relief it worked, judging from the devastating and piercing howl that hurt his ears. The orc was rendered useless and lost its courage when confronted with a bleeding but seething Elflord. Cowardly it disappeared into the battle.
Blinking confused Tessarion stared blindly around him, alert for more attacks. For a small moment he was left in peace, enough time to regain his breath. Something was off. His thought wandering back towards the sword in his hand. That shout. It had been in Quenya! He lowered his gaze towards the weapon in his hand and with effort what he saw made sense. For the second time, hope flared and his eyes searched around him.
Sounds were waning and increasing at the same time it seemed. His vision came in short sequences, seemingly apart from each other, not quite forming a clear flowing story. He realised that it had been a too narrow escape from death. He could not remember the last time he felt its clutches this close to his being. His mind and body were in disarray. Exhausted, his mind had trouble knitting the flashes of images around him together. But his eyes were suddenly glued to a familiar golden color not three metres away. Soundless the battle seemed for a moment, until vision and thought collided with force. Glorfindel! Relief flushed through him until he noticed his surroundings more.
One of his warriors, Raithon he believed, was fighting on the left of him. Wounded in the shoulder and a large gash on his forehead, blood running over the side of his face. An orc was pushing with his jagged sword against the smooth elven blade that he kept in front of him with bent elbows. Tessarion saw the white of his knuckles where he held the hilt, his other hand flat halfway against the blade, the stance of his legs showing the sheer force that was needed to keep the orc sword at bay. He would not hold out long, he was exhausted as well and almost collapsing under the weight of his opponent.
Tessarion raised Glorfindel's sword to measure his strength. Then without hesitation he stood and aided his warrior by slicing through the orc's head, an explosion of blood and flesh. There was no time to marvel or rest, he turned towards another, the adrenaline of the battle giving him strength once more.
Then he turned towards the flash of gold. He beheld Glorfindel's light, the warmth of his fea soothing his own. The Elflord was fighting seriously and magnificently, fluid like a dancer, agile and deadly, each strike ignited by his power, like only the warriors of old could. For a moment he was watching the stunning beauty of Glorfindel's fighting in absolute admiration. And then he saw disaster happening. Out of the writhing mass of bodies, a large orc came running from the right side. He was quick and light of foot, soundlessly he emerged out of the tangle of fighters. Running with purpose towards Glorfindel's back, while his attention was fully on the many orcs he was fighting in front of him. Sword raised for a killing blow. His friend would be skewered in seconds, and there was no one else to intervene. The future of Imladris was at stake, as Glorfindel formed the heart of the realm's defences. His death would have devastating consequences in their continued fight against the encroaching darkness.
The world narrowed down for Tessarion. Within a split second he made his decision. He leaped forward and threw himself in between his friend and certain death. The sword that was meant for the golden lord penetrated just below his chest, the weight of the creature, pushing the blade home. The metal was sharp and strangely cold. Glorfindel cried out while swirling around, beheading the orc but giving it no second glance. He was just in time to catch Tessarion, shouting his name, while he fell through his knees.
Tessarion blinked confused and peered owlishly at the sword sticking out above his belly button, the metal present in his flesh like a fact. He felt his knees shake, warm blood flowing out of his side and belly, like warm bath water. For a moment the feel of blood on his skin invoked the feeling of kneeling in Zeale's blood on that hateful day. And then his knees gave out, crashing into the cold ground. Sound became just as blurry as his vision. Zeale's eyes met his, squinting in pain. He expected the sword blade being pulled out, but that agony never came. He smelled his own blood. Sweat and fear. Rin's sweet perspiration. Then metal. And finally the pain, crashing into him. This battle was lost and he had failed them. His hands tightened into fists, clawing at the grass beneath him. As if his pain invoked a secret force, the battle seemed won soon after and silence fell on the battlefield.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Glorfindel knelt next to Elladan and Elrohir on the battlefield. Their faces grim, silent witnesses of the pain and final moments of Lord Tessarion, Captain of the Guard of Imladris. It seemed ironic to Elladan and Elrohir, that they were here together. Four deaths ada saw, and only one had come to pass. For now. It would have been Tessarion. The thought was turning and twisting in their mind since Tessarion sacrificed his life to save that of Glorfindel. They had meddled with the fates knowingly. Three deaths had been prevented at a terrible cost. It would have been Glorfindel, were it not for Tessarion. And what would come to pass still, out here in the wild? Was Tessarion's death in vain and would fate have its way with them?
Elladan and Elrohir noticed the warriors that were not busy tending the wounded, assembled around them, some weeping, some staring silently downwards at their respected and much loved captain. The sight was gruesome to the twins, the blood of one of their own kin, apart from their own, was rarely spilled, death came even more rare. And to see their old mentor, broken on the battlefield wrenched their hearts. So sudden was the feeling that there was no time to think of other emotions like revenge or anger.
Tessarion had been an immutable part of their youth and upbringing. He had cared for them when they were elflings, comforted them when they hurt, trained them harshly and without mercy, taught them many knowledgeable things on nature, tracking, hunting. Their bond went from close to distant in the past centuries. He did not approve of their ways and they did not care for the estrangement that it caused. But seeing him here, broken on the battlefield, time had irrevocably run out. There was no time for reconciliation. And to their own surprise they felt grief and… regret.
Tessarion's sharp face was pearly white, his lips had a bluish hue. His eyes fluttered open, staring at the twins as if he did not recognize them for a moment. Glorfindel was reaching out with his fea towards his friend, trying to sooth his final moments. Tessarion turned his head towards him in wonder at the feeling of his fea washing over him. "Laurefindil…. hantanyel, meldo…" The Quenya words were a touch of home, the twins knew, for it was an old connection they shared. Glorfindel smiled, then he became grave, his features clouded by grief. "Please do not thank me, it should not have been you…"
Tessarion stared at him knowingly. "What did Elrond see?"
"Four deaths, me, you and his sons." he inclined his head towards the twins.
Elladan, voicing both his and his brothers' concern, said softly: "What happened, Tessarion?"
His words sounded raspy, his voice broken by pain. "After escorting Rin through... the maze ... we headed to the foothills... the air felt wrong...found warg tracks. Then they attacked... seemed to ...came out of nowhere. Tracked our ….. movements without being….. seen."
The twins stopped breathing for a moment. So, she was not dead, at least she was left alive somewhere in this realm or just outside of it. Relief flooded through them. "And where is Rin now?" The question was heavy with concern and Tessarion focussed his eyes with effort on Elrond's son.
"You dare ask of her? …...Is that why you have come …. to our aid? Even …..in times of high need, your ways are…. ambiguous."
The severity of his words hit Elladan in his core, when the truth came crashing into him. They had fought only to find Rin, they had searched for her on the ground and within the battle. Any trace of her, like starving madmen, they had fought for any sign of her. Now, and only now, he realised he could have maybe prevented Tessarion's death. If he had cared. And the severity of that thought sent him reeling. Was he guilty of Tessarion's death? He glanced at Elrohir and knew he had the same realisation, his jaw tightening and eyes moving too much. A quiet glance to gain inner strength, brother to brother, and Elladan turned to his old mentor.
"It is." Elladan said quietly. "But I feel … shameful… to speak of this now. I…."
Tessarion said softly: "Do not venture on the path of guilt now sons of Elrond. I have made my choice, you could not have prevented it…" he ground out a sharp gasping sound, grasping his abdomen with one hand. Panting he continued..."Gather your wits…. She travels north…. the mountains…..see her safe….. this battle….. only the first of ...many."
Elladan looked angry. "You let her go alone?"
Tessarion's eyes spat fire, his anger fuelling his energy to speak, although with a soft voice: "She has regained her purpose in life. I was not the one that willingly endangered her mortal soul. I merely helped her find her bearings after your dangerous games. She survived your antics and she has found herself still capable of embracing love nevertheless. I have tried to heal her instead of trying to pull her down the path of useless revenge." he gasped for breath. "Be thankful that she was not here, I could not have guaranteed her safety in this battle….. Although she is a force to be reckoned with in battle. ….It was her reverse grip sequence ….that made me survive long enough to save Glorfindel."
Glorfindel looked taken aback. So he owed his life to Rin. That was most interesting. He did not share his Lords' foresight, but he could see how Rin's presence in their midsts was like a stone cast in water, causing ripples that reached far and wide. "It is curious that her presence should be interwoven with our fates like this. It seems that she is entwined with Elrond's foresight in a manner that is beyond my knowledge."
They fell silent for a moment, deep in thought, for Glorfindels' words rang of truth, even though its meaning eluded them for now. After a while Tessarion said softly: "She is like a fresh mountain wind in spring, bringing change."
He started coughing severely, blood dripping from his mouth suddenly. A bad sign.
His words caused a wave of emotions in the brothers. Elladan felt his brother shift uneasily. What was Tessarion saying? Had she fallen in love with a warrior of his band? With Tessarion himself? Jealousy reared his ugly head, a familiar feeling when Rin was involved, but now it caused bile in his throat. Had they lost her truly? It seemed strangely righteous. For a fleeting moment he thought it would make things easier for them. If their fea were doomed, they could end it how they wished it to end. He closed his eyes for a moment. The dark thoughts fleeing at the sight of his broken mentor lying in his own blood.
"We have come to make amends to her, if such a thing is still possible." he sighed in defeat. "We are at a loss."
Tessarion blinked. So there was hope for them still, he could feel their damaged fea and they seemed to realise the severity of it. He couldn't help but smile. These brothers were in for a rough ride, if he knew Rin only a little. She would let them suffer. He spoke again, his energy fading quickly. "Find her….protect her, die for her if you must. Love her. For me."
Emotion suddenly choked his voice until the last words squeezed out. Elrohir watched him knowingly, hurt and jealousy in his eyes which he did not hide. But Tessarion did not care. He was leaving this realm, he felt his fea loosening already.
Elrohir nodded, already moving to stand. But Tessarion grasped his arm with more force than seemed possible for a dying elf. "Do not give in to your fears…..."
Elrohir nodded solemnly, another emotion visible in his eyes, for it was clear Tessarion was fading quick. The blood underneath him grew steadily into a dark red pool, he was bleeding out steadily. Elrohir thought about his fear. He did fear love, as did his brother. He was uncertain how to stop. But before he could react, Tessarion had turned his head to look at his warriors that were gathered around them. He gave them all a penetrating look, nodding at them, whispering silent words of gratitude and honour. And then his gaze rested on Glorfindel whose light seemed to darken into a warm yellow sunset. Tessarion hand searched for his and Glorfindel grasped it, holding it forcefully. Tessarion whispered: "It was an honour my friend."
Glorfindel smiled, his eyes brimming with tears. "Indeed, it was an honour. And so much more."
Tessarion smiled until he coughed more severely this time, blood still pooling from his abdomen and mouth. When he regained his breath, pain was haunting his features. He squeezed out: "Laurefindil, meldo...Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier***…."
Glorfindel felt emotions come up so fast it made him nauseous. He knew that sentence and realised their meaning. And he wept staring his friend into his eyes. Then he slowly recited the two last sentences of the song. His voice was rich and the melody gulfed over the battered warriors who had all now assembled around their fallen Captain, weeping or just bending their heads in grief.
Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.
Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!****
While the melody conjured up images of the white shores behind the sea that he longed for, Tessarion's thoughts travelled to Zeale at the last lingering tones. It was finally time to see her once again. And his heart rejoiced. Closing his eyes, Lord Tessarion, Captain of the Guard of Imladris, drew his last breath and died a warrior's death on the battlefield, while his guard and friends mourned his passing, pouring out their grief and emotions while finding comfort in the memory of Valimar.
*My beautiful, my warrior, my love
*** The years have passed away like swift draughts
**** Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!
