"And you think this Halfling is strong enough to bear the burden?" Glorfindel asked, his tone less skeptical than Elrond imagined it would be.
"From what Mithrandir has described... yes."
"You have seen things?"
Elrond fixed Glorfindel with a look that said no no uncertain terms that yes, he had indeed seen things. His visions were still clouded, still confused and twisted in gyres of uncertainty. But, he knew that above all, the only way for Middle Earth to possibly remain free would be for the One to be destroyed. Elrond sighed heavily, turning from where he stood at the open window to look into Glorfindel's bright, tree-lit eyes.
"If the council goes as I hope... then we will send the ring with the Halfling to be destroyed in Mordor, where it should have ended long ago." Elrond felt the weight of his own words, the burden that he carried from that fateful night.
Young Estel thought of that moment, that moment when Isildur's bane took its hold... he always thought it to be the moment that Man's will fell. Elrond knew it was his.
No matter what words Elrond spoke on the weakness of Man, on the fault that lies in their very blood... his will was weak that night. He was steps away from the One, he could have thrown it into the fiery chasm and ended the threat once and for all. But, he faltered. He could hear the calling of the One, he knew how seductive its tone was.
And he was afraid.
He was afraid that his own will was weak, that he would cave and give into the callings of power. He feared that should he wrest the One from Isildur- for he knew as an Eldar he could easily overpower the battle weary Edain, that he would fall into the spell of the One the moment he touched it. He feared that it would seize his fea and pull him into darkness and despair, that it would capture him in the way those he loved were seized by the power of the Silmarils. First his mother and father, flying through the sky and abandoning their sons; then were his foster fathers, seized in a mad lust for the jewels and bringing so much pain and ruin. Is that what I would become? His mind had questioned that night.
Fosterling of kinslayers
The tauntings of Raven haunted Elrond still.
"You expect a Halfling to survive a journey to Mordor?" Now Glorfindel sounded skeptical, pulling Elrond from his thoughts.
"Not alone... I would like you to accompany him."
"Elrond, I-"
"You are one of the only beings in all of Arda capable of facing the Nine. You also hold no cravings for power, no ambitions for further glory or greatness. There are precious few who I would trust against the temptation."
Elrond had thought on the matter for a long while, he had contemplated every possible option. In his visions, his dreams, he saw Middle Earth burn so many times, in so many ways. And it wasn't just Arda... if Arda fell then it wouldn't take long for Sauron to turn his eyes to Aman. There would be no safe haven for their kind.
Glorfindel stared back at Elrond for a long time. Though his posture was as tall and straight as the perfect warrior he was, there was a weight bearing down on him. Elrond ran an appraising eye over his friend, seeing the way his eyes cast their way downwards, his energy falling to the stones at their feet. He looked weary. It was one of the few moments where Elrond was reminded that Glorfindel was one of the oldest beings alive on their side of the Seas. He was a being from the time before the sun, born in Aman among the homes of the Valar. He was ancient and bore the burden of being an emissary of the Valar; after having given his life defending his people he was not even given the right to rest in peace, but sent back to continue to fight.
"I have not give up hope on Elenya," Glorfindel spoke solemnly.
A ghost of a smile flitted across Elrond's lips. Of course, the moment when he feared that it was indeed all too much, that Glorfindel really was too weary of Arda... he reminded Elrond why it was that the Valar selected him, why Elrond absorbed him into his home with hardly a second thought.
"No, I suspected not."
"I cannot believe that she is lost to me- to us."
"She does not seem the forgiving type," Elrond warned.
"But she is."
Elrond gave Glorfindel a questioning look, but the blond elf continued to speak, his tone becoming stronger and entire demeanor growing as he spoke.
"She was lost, alone, and afraid. When she was found, she was locked up and tortured. She endured, escaped, and hid. She could have returned to Mirkwood to fight, but she didn't." Glorfindel began to pace, back and forth he walked, completely ignoring his injured arm as he gave his soliloquy. "She was afraid and hurt to she isolated herself, she hid from all Eldar. And yet... when she saw me being attacked, when she saw impossible odds she stepped in and fought. She saved my life, nurtured me back to health while terrified of me. If she still truly hated the Eldar... she would have left me to die. Any sane creature would have left me to die with orcs instead of risking their life."
"And after her wolf was killed?"
"I- I don't know..."
"Please, my friend."
"I made a promise to her... I promised I would stand by her side, that I wouldn't allow harm to come to her. I need to find her-" Glorfindel's eyes flew wide, instantly reaching for his sword belt which laid across his end table.
"Glorfindel," Elrond spoke sharply, knocking the elf out of his haze. "What good do you think you will do chasing her? Remember your own words? If the One falls into the hands of the enemy than all is lost. There will be no world for you do find her in."
"But-"
"Beyond all reasoning and hope, your paths have crossed. I sense that when the time is right, the Valar will ensure your paths cross again."
Glorfindel hung his head, nodding in silent agreement.
"I will bear this burden," he spoke solely, raising his eyes to meet Elrond's. "I will do what I can to guide the Halfling across Arda and into the bowels of Mordor where I will see the One destroyed. Then... when there is once again a chance for peace, I will find Elenya and help her to truly heal."
"The Balrog Slayer and the Halfling," Elrond's lip curled into the slightest smile. "The Bearers of the Ring."
Evelyn and Nightshade wove their way through the woods, the treads of their feet soft soundless as they crept through the place that they once called home. Evelyn could hear the trees whispering at her return, a few of them carding out branches to brush through her hair. She hushed them gently, stroking a few in return and asked for them to hid her and her companion, to keep them a secret, to protect them as they once did.
Passing like wraiths in the woods, Evelyn and Nightshade neared the palace, they spent three days circling the massive fortress, learning the layout of the guards and counting the numbers in each patrol. Once satisfied that she had enough information, they set their sights on Dol Guldur. Evelyn was careful to announce herself to the Nazgul who stood guard over the gates first upon arrival. The slave of Sauron had heard of her coming and gave orders to the orcs; they would now follow her command. She walked out to the fields of the forest to view her new, temporary army.
Evelyn's lips curled in disgust at what she saw. And entire rabble of orcs and Uruks were "training" on the grounds of Dol Guldur. They bore crude weapons and were an unseeing and vicious crew, clubbing and slashing at each other with no true purpose or intention in their blows. For Evelyn, whose tonight style had always been one of precision and acuity, it was positively revolting.
"Attention!" she yelled and was promptly ignored by the creatures. Glaring daggers at the crude beasts, she realized that these were beings who were not controlled by order or commands... only chaos and strength. With that in mind she called upon that ball of light within her and slammed her fist against the ground, sending a tremble through the entire fortress as if the earth itself was quaking.
The beasts all froze.
"As I was saying," she continued to speak in a level tone as if she had not just forced the earth to tremble. "We are preparing for an attack on Mirkwood to capture a creature held within its walls."
"Aye," said one Uruk who thankfully seemed to speak common. "We know what we must do, and it'll be done."
"Are you their commander?"
"Yes."
Evelyn did her best to not avert her nose for he stank of rotting flesh.
"So tell me then, Uruk commander... what exactly is your plan?"
"We burn the trees and the little tree hoppers will come running."
"No," she quickly shut down that idea.
"Why not?!" The beast, clearly not one used to being questioned, roared back. The rest of the hoard rose in volume and tone, jeering at Evelyn, calling her a little bird, a weakling snaga. "What do you know of battles, little prey?" He leaned in close hand straying towards the large mace tucked into his belt. "You know nothing of battles you-"
He never finished his sentence for, quite suddenly, the Uruk-hai commander found a thin blade sliding out from between his ribs as he collapsed into a heap on the ground. In one fluid motion, Evelyn flicked the orc blood off her blade, wiped it on what remained of the Uruk commander's clothing, and resheathed her long knife.
"Would anyone else like to make a comment?" She asked in the same tone that she spoke with before. No one stepped forth. "Good," scanning her eyes across the crowd, she noticed an Uruk a bit smaller than the rest, he was wiry and covered in scars, but he still towered over the orcs below him. "You-" she pointed at the wiry Uruk. "Answer me well and you are the new commander."
The Uruk that she pointed to bowed without comment.
"How do you usually attack the elves?"
"We- we burn the trees."
"And what to the elves do?"
"They put out the fires."
"And?"
"Shoot at us from the trees."
"Every time?"
"Yes."
"So what do you suppose would happen if you again, lit fire to the trees."
For a moment it seemed that she had stumped the creature as it scratched the back of its head in thought, squinting at the tree-tops as if it would find some answer from above.
"They would- they would put it out."
"And?"
"And shoot us from the trees."
Evelyn sighed and looked down at Nightshade who seemed as annoyed as she. The Uruk did get to the answer in the end... it had merely taken him far too long. She knew that the same plan that the Uruk and Orcs had used for hundreds of years would be ineffective. No, the Elves were far too clever to fall for such a poorly crafted ruse... not when they had hundreds of years of practice against it.
"You, you, you, and you," she called to four separate Uruks who all stood to attention. It seemed an act as simple as killing their leader was enough to bring the rough beasts in line. "Each of you will lead a group of orcs in the attack. Now, listen well to this plan for we have but one chance at obtaining the creature that we seek."
She heard a mumbling from her left.
"Pardon?" She asked, though she did not turn to look.
"I said why are we listning te yew," the rough tone of an orc replied.
Still without turning her head, Evelyn unsheathed her blade and slid it into the orc's guts, twisting a fraction of an inch and hitting something in him which made the foul orc scream and writhe in pain. She then withdrew the blade, and as the creature buckled forward, used the beast's own momentum to sever its head from its shoulders. Agains she flicked the blood off and resheathed her sword.
"Any other objections?" She asked cooly. There was a tangible silence in the air. "Good, lets get to work."
"Please, Lorien, there must be something you can do?!" Yavanna cried. The Lord of Dreams looked wretched, but he shook his head slowly.
"You know as well as I... I cannot access her mind."
"What other hope have we left?" Nienna shed a tear as she watched the young maiden training the crude orcs.
"It is not just the rules... I am unable to meet her in her dreams if she remains unwilling," Lorien looked exhausted for in truth, he had tried many a night to creep into the child's mind. Each time he was roughly pushed out, and the girl's own nightmares only worsened.
"I have spoken to Iluvatar," Varda said, returning to to her fellow Valar.
"And what say he?" Yavanna turned her attention to the Queen of the Stars.
"We have not been granted access to Arda... the actions of the coming age are for the children to face alone."
Yavanna began to weep openly. The child... she had suffered too much and for too long. There was a pain deep within her that could not be healed by simple means. They had failed.
"It was I who said that she should be sent to Lothlorien, home of Artanis... she would have been saved from all the pain and suffering she underwent if we placed her there!" Yavanna are furious, pointing an accusatory finger at Varda who inhaled sharply at the accusation.
"The darkened woods needed help... their King is the only amount the elves without a ring to protect them..." Varda tried to defend her line of thought.
"You have always played favorites with the Sindar King... look what he has done."
"What is done is done," Nienna cut in. "We must hold a council... all our fellows should partake in whatever decision we make next."
Lorien nodded in agreement.
"So we shall," Varda replied.
But Yavanna, Yavanna was staring into the distance, eyes on the tiny figure training the orcs in strategy far superior than any they had known. Varda had insisted on sending her to Mirkwood in the hopes that she would save the children who lived there. Instead, they crafted her into a deadly weapon.
"Oh child," she whispered too quietly for the other Valar to hear. "I am sorry."