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 53: Cold

The sounds of the ruckus faded away as Anita solidly closed the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it while sinking to the floor, smacking her head against its thick wooden panels twice for good measure. What had she been thinking going down there to join the celebration? She had known, somewhere inside she had known that she had no business attending a party; even one that had been thrown under the guise of a somber event of remembrance. After her talk with Legolas and then with Eowyn, the young elleth that thought it would be a show of good faith to at least make an appearance, even though in her heart it had felt like a huge betrayal of the men and elves who had died. At the very least she had been hoping to show that she was making strides towards accepting Glo's death, since it had been apparent that no one was ignorant to her grieving. Legolas had even tried to convince her to go home, and she couldn't have that, she couldn't have everyone around her seeing her as an emotionally unstable burden instead of an asset. Ani was determined to make it to Mordor to avenge her mentor, and if that meant putting on a dress and parading around a party like she hadn't jut experienced something traumatic was what she had to do to achieve that goal, then she could do it. Not for the first time in her life, Anita had been wrong. It had felt wrong to put on the beautiful smoky colored dress with white and green embroidery, it had felt wrong to feed her vanity by appreciating her appearance in the polished mirror, and it had felt wrong attending an event where there was even the slightest chance of having a good time. But she had gone despite her own convictions, and now she felt worse than ever about the events that had taken place over the last two days.

The night had started out fine enough; the king and Eomer both gave speeches in honor of the men who had died. However , the men of this country were not given to long winded speeches, and the solemn and ceremonious part of the night was over within fifteen minutes. It alarmed Ani how quickly a somber event of remembrance dissolved into a frat party…and all it took was the arrival of barrel upon barrel of beer and wine. All around her people in hall had begun eating and drinking in excess. But Anita remained where she sat, starring into her cup of spiced wine that had made her gag when she tried to return the drinking salute. That was it, that was all her dear friend- all those who had been lost- would be remembered by, a few short speeches. She wanted to feel angry, to feel indignant, to stand up on the table and scream at the top of her lungs at the partiers around her who had too quickly forgotten their dead friends, family and neighbors. But as deep as the elleth dug within herself, there was no emotion there for her to call upon. She felt no anger, she felt nothing at all but cold and isolated, detached from the reality she saw all around her.

The elleth had tried though, tried her best to push any condescending thoughts about the customs of Rohan aside and simply put on a show of camaraderie. She had forced herself to eat, even though her appetite hadn't returned and it had required all her will power just to function through the mechanics of chewing and swallowing. She had tried to engage those around her in conversation, an attempt that fell flat as soon as alcohol started getting consumed. Her mood disintegrated quickly from that point on, and Ani put forth no effort to conceal it. To her, a rowdy party that was teetering on the edge of 'drunk and disorderly' was a piss poor way to honor the dead. The elleth had found out rather quickly that she was the only one that harbored this feeling apparently when she had sought out the company of the few people she did know in the crowd. Aragorn was busy with Eowyn, who was making eyes at the Ranger even across the room, Merry and Pippin were leading the crowd in a folky bar sing a long, and Legolas was participating in a drinking game with Gimli.

Anita had stayed as long as her could force herself to, which by her own estimation couldn't have been more than an hour at max, before she stormed out of the hall and back to her bedroom; where she currently sat with her back against the door. Eight years ago, Anita would have been just like the drunken and obnoxious humans downstairs whose behavior she was now looking down on as deplorable. Elves were so composed, so reserved, so controlled all the time; she knew that Men and Dwarves alike saw them as solemn and uptight. When had she started identifying more closely with Elves than with Humans?

In the quiet darkness of the room Anita couldn't prevent herself from questioning the choices she had made that led her here to Rohan. There was nothing here in the stillness to distract her from the dark and poisonous thoughts that clawed at her mind. The ridiculousness of the party she had just experienced made her sick to her stomach, and Ani began to doubt that those seemingly ungrateful people downstairs had been worth the price of her mentor's life. With a resounding thunk the girl pounded the back of her dark head into the wooden door. "Victims!" She rebuked herself angrily. Of course they could drink beer and carouse til all hours of the morning, they were nothing more than the victims of a conspiracy created to destroy them. They would never suffer the weight of knowing their choices had condemned their loved ones to death, they have every right to celebrate and make merry. Anita didn't. In her shame and contrition she was made to suffer alone. The elleth pushed herself up from the floor, using the door as leverage as she forced her body which was shaky with weary to stand. It was just a few short steps to the bed, where Anita ungracefully crumpled to the mattress, but between the effort of holding herself from falling to pieces and playing the socially polite Elven Lady had zapped all her energy. Her obsidian hair sprawled across the pillow like a black puddle , her arms lay limply at her side. She hadn't even bothered taking off the lovely dress that Eowyn had loaned her.

Here, alone, there was one sinister thought that nagged at Anita. Death. It was after all the theme of the night, those to who had survived its clutches and those who had succumbed. It had been Glorfindel who pointed out to her that Legolas' erratic and panicked behavior at Helm's Deep had been linked to his fear of death, a fear that the Elven Prince never before had to face. Ani hadn't shared that same fear. Years of training accepting mortality for what it was had desensitized her to it…mostly. But she had been naïve, as only a person who had never survived a battle could be. The girl had believed that either they would all perish in the onslaught, or by some miracle they would all be saved; the middle ground had never even occurred to her. It never once crossed her mind that there would be some survivors left to mourn the loss of the soldiers, herself amongst them. Unafraid of what lay beyond this life, she had resolved to her own death, she had accepted it…and yet here she was, one of the mourning survivors. Ani had never even asked Glorfindel if he feared death, or what he believed lay on the other side of existence.

There was no way for her to know how long she lay in the darkness, staring at the planks in the ceiling , trying to stave off sleep as she contemplated where her path now lay. Ani knew she couldn't go back to the life of a spoiled child of nobility, doing what she wanted when she wanted without any real consequences. Somehow, some way, the young elf knew she was going to have to make this right, she was going to have to fix this. She had to make her life worth something- to make Glo's sacrifice have meaning. Which meant going beyond just pretending to be okay and making a show of an appearance to convince others she was okay. Now more than ever before, the elleth wished to have her twin here at her side. Leila had always been there to offer advice, usually unsolicited, but Ani would be grateful for even that right now. Lei was the logical one, Lei was the smart one, the fairer twin would have been able to see reason in all the chaotic madness in Ani's mind and made sense of it all. While Anita accepted her nature as being passionate and unruly, Leila was calm and analytical in ways Ani could never hope to be. Growing up it had annoyed the hell out of her, but Ani felt unfinished without her twin here too to balance her out. Without her sister, Anita was left to try and sort out her own rationale in the all-encompassing darkness of the night. Trying to think and plan without having had a good night's sleep, however, was borderline impossible to do. To sleep undoubtedly meant seeing Glo's face, watching him die again, and that was something that Ani couldn't abide by yet again. But as the sounds of the festivities in the Golden Hall began to fade away into nonexistence with the deepening of the night, the need for sleep had a stronger draw than what the girl could fight in her exhausted state. It was all the girl could do to try and keep her eyelids open….

The summer sun was beating down on her neck; the humidity in the air clung to her skin thickly and made it difficult to get a satisfying breath. There hadn't been a single breeze to rustle the leaves of the trees, nor provide any respite from the overwhelming heat. But she was a desert rat by birth, and the heat didn't slow her down so much as woke her up and made her feel alive. Glorfindel hadn't been counting on that, he hadn't been prepared for how well she could carry herself in the heat. He had been careless, assuming the oppressing temperature would make her sluggish, he had underestimated her. And Anita had monopolized on that. She could still remember the feeling of elation when she had knocked his sword free from his grip; the sound of it clattering to the stone floor of the courtyard was as sweet to her as harmonized bells. Ani had seen the flash of pride in Glo's eyes in that moment when she successfully disarmed him, the first time she could claim a victory over her mentor. She stood facing him, a few feet separating her from her teacher, who had his palms turned towards her in surrender.

"How did I lose?" This had always been part of their training together, regardless of who won or lost, she had to answer this one question. Usually it was her own loss that she was analyzing, and it had taken a lot of effort to keep the smugness from her voice when she answered him back.

"I saw you left your left side open after you parried my last strike, you underestimated my speed and weren't able to block my counter fast enough." It had felt good being able to show Glorfindel that his efforts weren't wasted, that she had been worth the effort, and that she had taken his guidance seriously.

"Why am I dead?" The question startled Anita, and she watched helplessly as her mentor knelt on the ground, never taking his eyes off her. His arms hung at his side, unable and unwilling to defend himself, Glo was completely at her mercy. Anita stepped forward, two small timid steps, sword still in hand. This wasn't part of her memory. That isn't what Glorfindel said. He should have said 'lesson completed', as was customary when she proved a satisfactory answer for defeat. Her dream had once again taken a dark turn, putting a morbid spin on recalled events .She was shaking, fear for what was about to happen controlling every fiber of being.

"You died to save me…" How else could she answer his question but with the truth?

This response clearly didn't satisfy the ancient elf kneeling before her as he repeated his question. "Why am I dead?" Again the elleth took a few short steps forward, she was within killing distance now; and every instinct was telling her to deliver the final blow even though her mind was screaming at her to put the sword down. Her vision began to blur with water rimming her eyes and her breathing came in short gasps. The silence he got in response didn't bode well with Glo, and with his naturally commanding voice he asked his question with more force, "Why am I dead?"

Anita's body was on autopilot as she raised the sword in hand high above her head, at an angle which would cleanly take off the head of the elf kneeling before her. Tears that she hadn't been able to shed in real life were streaming down her face like rivers, causing her voice to choke in a sob as she finally answered his question. "Because I let you die." And then the sword came crashing down.

A hoarse scream ripped Anita from her nightmare, shattering the horrific images around her like glass. Jolted from her sleep, she sat up in the bed and clamped her shaking hands over her mouth to quiet the very screams that had woken her. The elleth dragged deep trembling breaths in through her nose, though it was doing little to calm her down. Did the nightmares have to feel so real? Did they have to root themselves like parasites into her happy memories of Glorfindel and systematically rip them to shreds? It seemed to be her own personal curse. Once her breathing had calmed and her heart had returned to a normal rate of beating, Anita reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes. The girl was surprised to find that her cheeks and eyes were wet with tears, unconsciously shed as she slept. The elf filled her lungs to the brim and then slowly and with great control blew the air between her pursed lips. She didn't know how much more of this she could take, having her mind invaded every time she tried to sleep with terrors depicting how she killed her beloved mentor. As it was she probably would need therapy for the next thousand years.

Abruptly standing, the elleth made her way over to the window and threw open the shutters, letting in a blast of cool night air. Casting her gaze upwards the girl noticed that the moon had made its complete arch across the sky, signaling that dawn was not far off. That meant she had been asleep for at least four hours and still hadn't gotten an ounce of rest. Curiously Anita turned back around to study the bed. It didn't take much to realize that she had been the only one to occupy it that night, which left the elleth to wonder about the presence of a certain prince. Surely in a country as far removed from Elven society as Rohan he couldn't still be keeping up appearances about a proper relationship? Still dressed from the party, Ani decided to go and seek out her lover. Just being around him was normally enough to calm the internal demons causing her hell, and more than ever she needed him.

Carefully and quietly the elleth left the stillness of her room behind and moved through Meduseld. The halls were so dark and quiet it was hard to imagine that just hours before these very walls had housed a loud and raucous party, the likes of which were typically reserved for bachelor parties and spring break. Now there were no sounds to be heard but the occasional burst of alcohol induced snoring from one of the many guests still in the hall, not even the mice were mobile tonight. Ani vaguely recalled hearing in passing that there were spare rooms on the first floor for guests were being allowed to remain to sleep off the effects of the beer; that seemed as good a place as any to start looking for her friends. Working her way downstairs, not even the floorboards creaked under her naturally quiet feet as she stealthily worked her way to the first floor and then around to where the sleeping chambers were.

Her pointed ear pricked up when she heard whispering coming from one of the back rooms. Picking up her walking pace, Anita hastily moved in the direction she had heard the voices coming from. "Put it back!" It distinctly sounded like Merry's voice harshly whispering from the other side of the oaken door as Ani turned the latch and pushed it open. There were perhaps fifteen bodies that had been cramped in this room alone to sleep, making the elleth all the more grateful that Eowyn had seen to it that she got a private space. Among those sleeping men knelt Pippin, his back turned towards Anita where he couldn't see her. In the next row of pallets over was Merry, sitting up and looking very distraught as he looked up to acknowledge Ani's entrance into the room before turning his concerned look back to his fellow Hobbit. Following his eyes, Anita's own gaze fell on the shiny orb that Pippin was hunched over. The girl recognized the dark ball with the glowing core from their trip to Isengard, where the hobbit in front of her had found the item under the water.

Ani was willing to admit she didn't know a damn thing about magic, but even her instincts were telling her to keep a safe distance from the magical relic which had been in Saruman's possession not but a day ago. Even Gandalf had looked deeply troubled at finding the Palantir, having taken it and immediately hidden it from sight within the folds of his cloak. Any magical item that scared the White Wizard was all the reason the elleth needed to know to stay away, apparently Pippin didn't share that same sense of caution as his hands hovered over the glowing orb like a child with his favorite toy. "Pip!" She hissed ad she stepped in the room, glancing around to be sure she didn't wake anyone as she spoke. But the hobbit didn't – couldn't- hear her. His oddly glazed eyes were steadfastly locked onto the Palantir on the floor in front of him. "Pippin!" She hissed again with much more force, but again she was ignored. Words alone weren't going to deter him, Ani realized. Stepping around the sleeping forms spread around the floor as carefully and quickly as she could , the elleth advanced on the hobbit. Stretching out her long fingers, Ani's left hand came to grip Pippin's right shoulder just as the hobbit fully lay his hands across the smooth surface of the ball. A sharp pain shot up her arm which gripped Pippins shoulder, and then just as suddenly, the world went black.

Cold- Five Finger Death Punch