Warning: Rated M for mentions of blood, gore, torture, and decapitation.
disclaimer: i don't own anything.
enjoy!
Chapter 18
-Imladris (Rivendell), Third Age 2600-
For the hundredth time since her marriage not four years prior, Aemilia was awoken with a kiss, but Glorfindel was already in his armor and completely the commander, not the lover. Aemilia eyed him as she dressed. The night almost seemed a dream. But the memories of it would never leave her, for they changed everything. His body close to hers—Glorfindel's body close to hers, his touch, her needs, were something else entirely, and they lingered like the taste of honey on her lips and in her mind. Nor could she view these matters as evil. Spoken of crudely they could disgust, but shared with trust and care they were surely of the heavens, not sin. The state she was in was not a state of sin. Glorfindel had given her—generously, carefully—that explosion of the senses. Her body and mind were still sensitized, even to the cool water with which she washed, and the sliding touch of her own clothing.
And sensitized to him.
Even now, after sleep and the passage of hours, the lightest brush of his hand brought back quivering memories. The smell that was his alone lingered in the sheets and melted her. Now she knew why newly bonded elves were so strange and were not given time apart. They were adrift in this powerful new sensuality and unable to cope with everyday matters. Was he? As Aemilia pulled on her stockings, she slid a look at him. She sighed. Of course he wasn't. He was completely unaffected, and his mind was doubtless entirely taken up with practical concerns. As if to prove it, he looked over at her impatiently. Then his gaze stopped and lingered for one revealing, heated moment on her leg. Aemilia's breathing caught and she lowered her head to hide a smile. She took rather longer than she needed to put on her stockings. She remembered knowing, last night, that it was easy as breathing for him to give her pleasure after pleasure. Remembering tangled limbs, lips and tongue—everywhere. Perhaps, behind the mask, he too was drowning in sensual torment. Her legs felt none too steady as she rose to join him by the door. He stood aside so she could pass through.
Then he moved.
His smooth hand pinned her to the door jamb at the neck with precise control—not roughly, but not gently either. He kissed her, and that too lacked control in its heat and its force. A jolt of longing shot through Aemilia and it came from him. He jerked his head back, eyes closed, as if shocked by his own actions. His very stillness spoke of need far deeper than she could understand.
For her.
He raised heavy lids to expose darkened silver grey eyes. He moved his hand as if it were a stranger to him and looked at her neck with frowning concern. Aemilia raised her hand to cover her neck, though she knew there was no mark. Her lips felt bruised. She waited for him to speak, but he touched her briefly and steered her out into the fresh day. Would they even wait for a month to resolve all this? There was nothing to stop them, as soon as she'd arrived back at Imladris, from Lothlorien. There was no need for waiting.
"A week's ride either way, a whole month away. Please say you'll miss me?" Aemilia poked, the always stoic Captain of the Imladris guards regarded her, his face blank, but his eyes held mirth and adoration.
"Do you need reminding?" His voice dropping low into a husky whisper sending shiver running up her spine and goosebumps erupting across her arms. His strong arm going around her slender waist pulling her flushed against him, while his mouth remained on her ear. "It is hard enough as it is. I am not pleased with the idea of parting with you for a month. Don't make it anymore harder."
"Tell me again, why you can't come?"
"Because as much as I am your husband, I also have a duty to oversee the protection of Imladris. And as much as I would like to keep you locked up in here for your safety, I respect Lady Galadriel too much to deprive her of a visit from her granddaughter."
"Suit yourself." Her smile falling from her lips, as her eyes turned somber as she regarded him. "I will miss you terribly."
"And I you, my star." Leaning towards her, his lips molding against hers again in fiery kiss that ignited heat all over. Too soon did he pull away, "Come on. The sooner you leave, the sooner we can celebrate your return."
Aemilia quivered with nervous longing. She was full of need, but the violence of that kiss frightened her. She had a dragon on a chain; he could warm her with his breath, and soar her high on his wings, but he might, almost absentmindedly, devour her. When Aemilia and Glorfindel emerged from the hallway to the gate leading out to the stables, she found, as he had said, that twenty soldiers bearing the seal of Imladris, had been on guard, alert and prepared. She appreciated his care of her while thinking it excessive.
The road from Imladris to Lothlorien was well maintained and clear, and curved invitingly before her. The sun was burning away the last of the morning mist, slowly making invisible the lacy spiders' webs strung between the grasses; birds sang cheerfully in the wooded surroundings all about. There was clearly no danger out here, and she would be home in a month anyhow.
She travelled the same roads too many times to count. Even her mother—Lady Celebrian—could travel the roads with her eyes closed. The threat of an attack was ever present, the memory of what happened to the Greenwood Queen forever haunting their memories. The young Prince of Greenwood—a mere elfling at the time— looking lost and forlorn as they laid his mother to rest, but as the funeral rites forged on, Aemilia could still remember the eyes of the Greenwood Prince, once lost and hurt, had slowly morphed into hatred and anger. As the last of the rites were completed, the Prince had become eerily quiet and ice cold.
"Bredwon, at your service milady." A tall elf presented himself to her, already in his unmistakeable golden armor. His hand over his heart as he bowed his head in introduction.
Aemilia nodded, her own golden breastplate glinting in the sunlight. Turning she heard, than saw her mother gracefully taking the steps down, together with her adar towards where she stood with Glorfindel.
"Adar." Aemilia greeted her father with a warm embrace, his hands going to both her cheeks, cupping her face as his gaze suddenly turned contemplating and serious. "Adar, what's the matter?"
"Maybe, it's best if you stay here." Elrond suddenly offering startling both Aemilia, her mother and Glorfindel.
"What on Arda has gotten into you?" Her mother asked, laughter tracing lines on her fair face.
Elrond continued to stare at Aemilia, a sudden foreboding feeling overcoming him, but he could not place where. Sensing what her adar was on about Aemilia tried to placate him, "I'll be fine, Adar. If you haven't noticed, we have the entire Imladris army riding with us." She snickered, giving Glorfindel sidelong glance to find the mighty elf-lord clearing his throat and sending a playful glare her way.
Releasing a deep sigh, the Lord of Imladris nodded his head unable to offer anymore plausible reason.
Mounting their horses and proceeding to follow the procession of guards and escort. It is a week's travel to Lorien, the road already mapped out and their route deemed secured. Arwen was already there awaiting for their arrival, she had left two months prior, their older brothers Elladan and Elrohir traveling with her. Although, the twins should have been back by then, at least they had bothered to send a letter via the eagles, to their father—Lord Elrond—of their current whereabouts, traveling and stopping by Rohan before making the long trek back to Imladris. The twins also sent their sincerest apologies for not seeing Aemilia and their mother off, offering instead to meet them back for a welcome celebration upon their return.
Glorfindel made last minute inspection of Aemilia's horse. Tightening the reins and inspecting the horses hooves before deeming all safe and secure for his wife. Moving to stand beside Bredwon, the Captain of Imaldris gave strict instructions to stay alert and always have a scout ahead. With a deep sigh, Glorfindel battled with himself if he should travel with her instead. But with the twins' unscheduled detour to Rohan, leaving Imladris open to an attack was out of the question.
Bredwon, his second in command would have to do. After all, a day's ride from Lorien would have her wife's party greeted by the Marchwarden and their own party of security.
It had been three days since they had left Imladris, their party had decided to stopped for camp, their locations little ways off the road away from prying curious eyes of other travellers. Although to be honest, they had not seen anyone for days.
Bredwon had already sent two elven soldiers ahead to scout the route and return for any warning if need be. Another two days of travel and they would be met by the security detail from Lorien, another request made by Glorfindel that was gladly seen to by their Marchwarden—Haldir.
They had already completed their small supper consisting of tomatoes, cheese and bread and had decided to retire for the night, planning to have an early start for tomorrow, preferably before the sun rises. Aemilia and her mother were both staying inside the same tent, while the others have opted to position some high on the branches of the trees scattered being on the look out and some on their own individual tent who were tasked of heading the travel tomorrow. The rain had started to fall, a slow inconsequential drizzle slowly turning to a heavy downpour as the hours progressed.
Aemilia had a difficult time falling asleep, constantly switching in her tiny cot. Her hands going to her abdomen as she swore she felt uncomfortable and uneasy. She started enumerating elvish alphabet in her head to help her fall asleep, when that did not work, she proceeded to recite the elvish rhymes she knew when she was still an elfling. Sleep did not come easily but it came nonetheless. She was not asleep for a full hour when she and mother were startled when somebody ripped the flaps of their tent to find Bredwon soaked under the heavy rain, with panic and anger in eyes. "Miladies, my apologies but we have to go."
"What are you talking about—" Celebrian started to ask but she was cut off by Bredwon.
"My apologies, milady, but the scouts I sent spotted orcs just over the rise of the northern hill."
"Yrcs?!" Celebrian's panic was heard, swiftly standing to grab her blade and put on the armor suited for elven ladies while on the road, consisting of steel shoulder armor and breast plate over her riding gown.
"How many?" Aemilia was doing the same, not even bothering to pull the cot or the other things scattered about them.
"Best guess… three hundred." Bredwon swallowed, feeling dread engulf his entire body.
Sweet Eru! Three hundred against twenty elven soldiers. "Get everyone ready!" Celebrian ordered, lady or not, she can command an army like a true elven warrior. Brushing past Bredwon, unbothered by the freezing rain soaking her from head to toe. Drenching her platinum blonde hair and silver riding gown.
Aemilia followed hurriedly in her mother's footstep, swinging swiftly and gracefully onto her horse, gazing at the soldiers frantically moving about in camp. "Leave everything behind."
She realized with a start that they are three days ride from Imladris, three days ride from Lorien. Swiftly maneuvering her horse to head the parade, she moved forward her mother at the back of the party. "Stay close, but stay the back, Mother."
If it was an ambush, they definitely walked right into it. She turned quickly to the last soldier, the youngest one within their group, "Ride to Imladris. Warn them and call for aid." With a snarl, Aemilia kicked her horse to move forward not even bothering to wait for the soldier's reply who she knew by now have already left for Rivendell, leading the group in a swift ride to Lorien.
Elbereth! I hope he gets there in time!, Aemilia thought as she pushed her horse to move fast and swift. Orcs do not normally patrol these parts, their presence is planned, their hope to be undetected and to move in stealth. If they are heading this way then are planning to pass Imladris. The only thought that boggled her was, What were they planning to accomplish within an elven realm with only three hundred orcs?
"There is an alternative route, it is long but it is not along the main road, we can slip past undetected." Bredwon ordered, spotting with his elven eyes as Aemilia and her mother nodded their heads in approval. The elven soldier, sending a silent thank you to the Captain of Imladris for the suggestion, indicating that an alternative route should be planned should the need arise. Alas, here they are!
She heard a groan and turned. At first there was no evidence of a problem, but then she noticed that one of the elf was pale, struggling to hold onto his mount. Then he swayed slightly, grasping the pommel to keep his balance. Bredwon had seen it too.
He moved forward. "You are sick?"
"A gripe, sir, nothing more . . ." The elf moved to sight upright, then doubled over and vomited. In moments, most of the elves who were not on watch duty that night were moaning or vomiting. Out of the twenty who rode with them, twelve were not—including the two scouts who returned soaked to the bone with alarm in their eyes.
Bredwon beckoned now of the unaffected elf, "Girilon, what did they eat that you didn't?"
"Not eat, sire. Drink. They went down the stream for their water skins."
"But you did not drink?"
"No sire. We had not had the luxury of time. They were suppose to take rest and assume the duty for travel tomorrow as agreed by the watch shift." Aemilia realized that they all took a drink from the water skin, where its contents were gathered in a stream not too far from where they camped.
Danger after all.
Fear was turning into terror. The stream poisoned and it must have been potent enough to inflict an elf! This was a plan, and the only purpose could be her undoing. She looked again at the road. Now it was as inviting as a beast's lair. "Lord Glorfindel couldn't take all the soldiers out of Imladris, milady," he said almost absently, "but he wanted extra escort for you, so I brought another two. From hindsight, a mistake." Already trying to squash the guilt that is slowing rising at the thought that he should've brought more.
She began to retreat toward the foot of the mountain where there were surely caves. "We'll have to stay here. . . ." Halting her horse as she moved to help the already unconscious elven soldiers down their horses. Bredwon's hand on her arm halted her. His eyes traveled over the soldiers, well and sick; over the ten-foot-high mountain walls; and over the road to Lorien. Aemilia's nerves settled a little.
His voice was calm when he said, "These caves offers little security from an enemy indifferent to Eru's wrath, and there's some plan afoot. If we act quickly we may forestall them. Can you ride?"
"Of course."
"I mean, can you ride hard and fast?" Her heart speeded, but more with readiness than fear. "Yes. I like to hunt, remember?" It was a feeble attempt at humor, but he rewarded it with a smile.
"Good." Bredwon grabbed one of the smaller of fallen elves and roughly divested him of his boiled leather jerkin and his helmet.
"Put these on." Aemilia bit back a protest and obeyed. The jerkin hung loosely, but the hardened leather would stop an arrow. She hated the thought that it might be needed. She was determined not to fail this test, though. She tossed away her circlet and jammed the helmet on over her head.
Then she saw that one of the sick men had a bow and arrows. She took up the bow, strung it, and tested it. It was stronger than she was used to, but she thought she could manage it for a few shots. She slung the quiver over her shoulder.
Bredwon turned from giving orders to his men. "Can you use that?" His question directed at his Captain's wife while his eyes scanned over Lady Celebrian as she was also being fitted with the same garb Aemilia had from the poisoned elven soldiers.
"Yes."
He made no further comment, but helped her into her saddle. In moments, they were ready, just twelve of them against who knows how many. But Bredwon had said he was sure there couldn't be an army nearby, and it was possible that their enemy, not knowing of Lord Glorfindel's strict standards, would expect all the soldiers to be sick.
Bredwon rode alongside her and passed her a shield. "Put the strap over your shoulder and your left arm through the bands."
She did as she was told. It was a round one, smaller than his kite-shaped shield, but it was still heavy on her shoulder and her arm. She felt rather ridiculous. Her arm would be aching just from the weight before they reached Lorien, and she doubted she would be able to use the shield in any purposeful manner. It would certainly stop her from using the bow. "They won't want to harm me," she protested. "Who knows what they want?"
His eyes searched ahead. "These are mindless yrcs, milady. What they want or do not want is not of my concern. It is my task to protect you, and I will do so. Ride by me and keep up. And obey any order instantly."
"Or what?" she asked, trying for a bit more humor. "Or your husband will beat me black and blue if you do not survive." She knew that this time he wasn't teasing.
He drew his sword, surveyed his small troop, and gave a quiet command. They left at a gallop, six soldiers ahead and six behind. Aemilia had told the truth when she said she could ride hard, but the too-large helmet kept slipping onto her face, and the heavy unwieldy shield bounced, bruising her leg and causing her horse to break pace and jib. The still heavy rain obscuring what little of the her sight she could manage to have. She began to fall behind. Bredwon slowed and leaned to grab her reins. Aemilia didn't contest it, but took a grip on the mane and concentrated on managing the shield and staying on. She wished, though, she could have kept up on her own. They thundered between the trees and there was no sign of any enemy.
Then arrows whined through the air.
One of the front soldier and his horse went down in a screaming tumble of legs, blocking the road. Bredwon hauled to a halt. He and the remaining soldiers swung efficiently into a protective circle around Aemilia and Lady Celebrian. Aemilia looked in shock at an arrow driven well into her shield. It could have been in her body! She saw Bredwon wrench an arrow out of his chest. After an appalled moment she understood that it couldn't have penetrated far. If it had cut into his mail at all, it must have been stopped by his padded haqueton.
But it could have been in his heart.
More arrows hissed through the air, low and at the horses. It was luck that sent most through their legs. One horse screamed, but the rider controlled it. Aemilia saw a scarlet gash on the beast's belly.
Not deep. Sweet Elbereth, were they going to die here?
The elf who'd been brought down stayed down. It was Girilon, the soldier who'd told them about the water skin. Looking around her, her eyes locking with her own mother, she knew she had to do something. Even if just to get her mother a head start to safety. She was no use to anyone dead.
The arrows ceased. It was an eerie moment of calm that seemed to last much longer than it possibly could.
Then twenty armed orcs crashed out of the woods, hurtling against her defenders in a screaming, shrieking tumult. Above all other sounds was the broken-bell clanging of metal brought against metal in an attempt to hack into flesh and bone. Aemilia's horse plunged and turned, spooked by the clamoring melee all around. She controlled it viciously, looking for any chance to be of use. Her bow fell from her arm, but she didn't bother with it. It was no use in this kind of fighting. She was bemused by how slow everything seemed. It was only moments since Girilon came down and yet it seemed an age. Everyone, friend or foe, seemed to move at dreamlike speed around her. She saw an enemy wide open to attack, and yet a soldier of her husband's right there took no advantage. Her own blade swinging wildly around her, hacking any and all orc flesh alike that dared come too close.
Her swinging horse showed her mother moving as slowly as a doddering ancient, but more efficiently. Celebrian's sword swung mightily against an exposed torso and Aemilia could almost hear the ribs break before the orc screamed and stumble down. That was more like it! She let out an exultant cry of victory, as if the blow had been her own.
One of their own soldier screamed and went down.
The protective circle fractured. Her joy soured. There were too many against them. Aemilia concentrated on preventing any attempt to seize her. She wished Glorfindel had given her a longer sword even as she knew she could never have managed it.
Then she remembered her arrows. She whipped a handful out of the quiver, ready to stab with them if anyone tried to seize her. The orcs were too busy to try for her yet, though. They seemed to concentrate on the elven soldiers, as if they knew that downing them was the key to both elleths.
Bredwon was fighting three, calmly, efficiently, always able to block the blows. Aemilia's heart leaped to her mouth as she saw a mace swing viciously at him from his blind side while he fought another orc. She screamed a warning, but he was already moving to avoid, to react, as if he could see all sides at once. In a split-second gap between blows he grinned at her as if this were an amusement. She was amazed to realize she was grinning back. This was not amusing, and yet she had never felt so vibrantly alive. If she died here, it was better than many deaths. But she would not be taken prisoner.
A sword whistled through the air at Celebrian's head. The Lady of Imladris blocked it with a fiery crash, turning her horse with her legs to face the attack again. Two other soldiers went down, but the enemy was losing more.
Bredwon, on the other hand had accounted for at least three. Aemilia longed for someone to come in range so she could stab him. She screamed defiance, and exulted at each death. One more of their soldier down.
An enemy rode straight at Aemilia. She reared her horse to thwart him, and screamed a warning. Bredwon was fighting two men, but he swung his horse back on itself to cover the new threat. He was fighting for his life and guarding her at the same time. It was impossible. Then the rump of his nearest opponent's warg swung into Aemilia's leg, bruising her. With relish, she stabbed it deeply with her arrows. The horse bucked wildly. The rider was not thrown, but for a moment he was beyond defense.
Still it was so eerily slow.
The opening at his neck between the flaps of his mailed coif was as clear to Aemilia as the eye on a target. Bredwon's sword found it with deadly precision. Before the orc realized he was dead, Bredwon swung brutally at his other opponent and broke his arm. The orc howled and fell. Bredwon flashed her a grin. "Well done!" Her heart sang. Three other orcs were coming at him now, but they reined in for a moment.
Why?
Not surprising if they feared to face elves. Arrows hissed. One glanced off Aemilia's helmet, jarring back her head, making her yell with fright. Most hit Bredwon on his right, shieldless side. At least seven of them. He looked like a hedgehog. He cursed fluently as Aemilia realized that they had done much damage. But they were stuck there, sharp points surely cutting through into his skin, crippling his right arm. He switched his sword to his left. The last of their guard went down and the two attackers turned to join the three waiting.
It was only three of them now; Aemilia, her mother and Bredwon.
She saw one grin expectantly. Everything stopped. She saw the three more orcs ahead blocking the way to Lorien. She saw the two other orcs behind, beginning, so slowly, to move toward them. She saw the blood oozing from Bredwon's many cuts.
One orc in particular, the largest one barred his teeth at them, his voice gruff and gurgle. "A long way from home, elf-dogs!" The other orcs laughing along at the insult. It turned its head, nodding for one of the orc to scamper off with an order, "Tell them we have found supper." Aemilia's blue eyes flashed in rage, her glare unflinching. How could it had slipped her! In all their haste, she forgot that three hundred were spotted and they only fought a handful! The gruesome orc noticed her glare, a sinister smile inching its way across his face. "They have never tasted elleths before." Waving his scimitar to the rest of the orcs behind him, all flashing their gnarly, sharp teeth.
"They never will." Aemilia hissed raising her sword in defense, her voice calm but deadly as rage battled within her.
The orc sneered, raising his scimitar just as the other orcs pulled their bows yet again. This time, those arrows will surely pierce their intended target. Glancing to her right, she spotted Bredwon almost lying on top his horse, his blood staining the horse's mane, his blood dripping, mingling with the muddy ground.
The arrow hissed through the air, slicing its way across the rain. Aemilia closed her eyes, instinctively raising her shield to block her head, but the pain never came. Slowly opening her eyes, her gaze widened at the magnificent blue orb that engulfed them. It flickered once at it slowly faded, the source a single man standing between them and the orcs blocking the way to Lorien.
A Maiar!
With a start Aemilia was frozen on the spot, having not met one before. His beard was long, dark and serpent-like, his robe a dark blue that was turning black as the night as it got soaked under the pouring rain. In his left hand a long silver sword, on his right, a tall white staff its tip seeming to glow silver-bluish hue, like starlight in the midnight sky.
When he turned toward the trees and said quite calmly, "Into the woods," as another blinding blue light flashed before them and the orcs surrounding them were thrown onto the surrounding trees, some rendering them unconscious, with broken spine or neck, or dead. She had already thrown away her burdensome shield and quiver of arrows and was beginning the only possible movement. They raced their horses recklessly into the woods, leaping them over fallen trees, gathering them from almost disastrous stumbles.
Too slow was death for Bredwon and should he succumb, it'd be worse for her. Bredwon was still with them, but she knew that in this race he could not help them or they would lose. She could hear the crash of pursuit behind them with her elven ears, but fading. Her helmet went, caught by a branch that would have knocked her out. After that she rode low. Her skirts were snagged and ripped, but she thanked Eru they were frail so the entangling branches didn't drag her off. He swerved down a deer track and she followed, the way easier now.
Twisting, climbing, then down a mad slope she'd never have attempted sane, almost falling. A stream. Celebrian hauled up her foam-mouthed horse. "Can you jump it?"
"Yes. How are you?"
Glancing at the struggling Bredwon beside them, the Lady Imladris gave her daughter a vague answer, most of the arrows had been broken or pulled out entirely, but there seemed so much blood! "Go!" was all she said. Both elleths set their horses at the stream and leaped it cleanly, pulling in to wait for Bredwon. He leaped his horse after them. The landing jerking his body harder and he cried out from the numerous wounds. The pause gave Aemilia a moment to think. "Up ahead!" she gasped. "There are caves. We can hide." Then she wondered if that was cowardly. "Or I know the way to Lorien from here."
"The caves," Bredwon gasped unable to bear the pain jerking her body any longer. The paint as all over.
She led the way up a gradual slope toward the hummocky hills where the stone often broke through the greenery. She began to fear that she couldn't find the caves, for it was years since she'd passed by them. Then she saw some rocks and remembered.
She urged the tired horse on, up to the cliff. She slid off her horse to lead the beast through the narrow opening into the chill gloom. Celebrian and Bredwon did the same behind her. "Is this wise?" she asked as she shivered in the sudden dampness. "It seemed like a good idea, but it's like a child hiding under the bed, isn't it? We're trapped here if they find us." Her voice echoed slightly, though the cave was not very large. For better or worse she'd chosen a cave that did not link into the warren that riddled these hills.
"We've lost them," he said, "and I can defend this place for quite some time." The peculiar slowness was still there. It was fading, but still there. And an unnatural calm held her in its grip. Surely she should be shaking with terror.
"Milday?" A voice interrupted them, lightning striking across the sky leaving a shadowy figure right outside the cave entrance.
"In here." Celebrian gasped out, swinging down her horse and crumpling to the cave floor. Aemilia rushed to her mother, who only now she had noticed was supporting a large gash on her left side. "Mama?" Aemilia gently laid her mother down on the floor, leaning her back with equal support on the head on the cave wall nearby. Her mother's wounds were deep. Small cuts littered up her arms, but the large gash on her torso left Aemilia fearing.
"Mithrandir?" Celebrian asked her eyes getting blurry.
"Allatar, milady. At your service." Removing his pointed hat swiftly, revealing wise and kind striking ice blue eyes that seemed to glow. His long hair dark as night, the same color of his beard. He crouched down in front of the Lady of Imladris and surveyed her wounds, a frown marring his features at the severity of the gash. "It was not luck that brought you to save us." Celebrian muttered, her eyes not leaving the wizard's.
Allatar remained silent as he tried to remove the Lady's too large, haphazardly put on armor. Celebrian holding in her scream, so as not to give away their hiding place. The pain lashed out to all corners of her body, more blood seeping out of the large wound. "It was, milady. I am on my journey towards the east. I must say, the Valar has heard your cry." Grasping the wizard's hand, Celebrian pleaded with her eyes, her gaze unfaltering as it held the wizard's gaze, her eyes turning to her daughter who was occupied with Bredwon.
Aemilia turned to spot Bredwon also on the same position as her mother, "Let me look to your wounds," she said.
"Leave them," Bredwon hissed his body lunging for more air, assessing their refuge and pulling out arrowheads like someone pulling off teasels. Three he didn't touch. She saw those arrows was much deeper. It had managed to go through the mail and into the flesh of his arm, chest and abdomen. Most of it had broken off, or he had broken it off, but it moved as he moved and must be extremely painful. It was also causing much bleeding with each movement. He was turning paler by the minute. "We can't leave those," she said.
"We have no choice. The mail won't come off with it there and I can't grasp it well enough to pull it out." Bredwon gasped out, trying to still the stinging pain from all wounds.
"Then I'll have to do it." Aemilia prayed that she could. He looked at her, one quick, doubting glance, then presented his arm. Only a little-finger-length protruded from the mail and it was both sticky and slippery with blood. Aemilia took hold of it as best she could and tugged. Nothing happened except a hiss of pain from him and a new welling of blood. "I'm sorry," she said miserably.
"It's barbed, and will snag on the mail." His voice was steady. "You'll have to pull with all your strength."
Aemilia took a deep breath. It had to be done and she could do it. Still, she first explored as gently as she could to see if she could somehow work the mail over the shaft. "Perhaps I could cut the shaft," she offered. "I suspect that would hurt more and take a lot longer." Aemilia looked at the shaft again, one part of her mind clearly telling her that she could not do this, that if she left it everything would turn out all right, that someone else would take care of it. Another part of her knew that this had to be done if he were to have any chance of fighting with that arm without losing more blood than he could afford. "Lie down," she said at last, startled by the commanding tone of her voice. He looked at her. "Why?"
It seemed ridiculous to be giving Bredwon orders, but she said, "The only way I'll be able to do it is with you on the floor. Just lie on your front." He eased down without protest. Now the arrow shaft poked straight up. Aemilia put the ball of her left foot on his forearm and the whole of her right foot on his shoulder. "Does that hurt?"
"Not particularly," he said, and added with a trace of humor, "In some places it is considered amusing to have a woman walk over a man's back. . . ."
"What sort of places? Or should I not ask?"
"Probably not." Aemilia bent and wiped off as much of the blood as she could, as gently as she could, willing her hands to be steady and her strength to be adequate. His voice was warm with humor when he said, "I'm willing, as you must have noticed, to let you walk all over me. I could not disobey you more than I could your husband, who also happens to be my captain."
She ignored his nonsense and wrapped a tattered piece of her skirt around the stub for better grip. "It is said to loosen tightened muscle—Eru!" The arrow was out. She had felt it sickeningly tear through muscle and skin, and grate against metal. The force she had used toppled her backward and she sat there fighting the urge to be sick.
He rolled up and grasped his arm, breathing roughly. "I don't feel particularly loose at this moment."
"I'll have to practice . . ." She choked on a sob and crawled over to his side. "I'm sorry." His eyes spoke of pain. "I've had worse treatment. We can work on the other at some more convenient time."
She took refuge in a minatory look. "Let's have the mail off you." That was painful too, but they managed it, and the leather jerkin as well. He was covered with blood. Most of it oozed from the small gashes made by the arrows. But the most was from the remaining arrows lodged on his abdomen and chest. Bredwon would not admit it, but it is getting difficult to breathe by the minute, his humor hoping to offer comfort to the lady more than him. The deeper wound was a mess of torn, bleeding and swollen flesh, and she knew most of the damage had been done in ripping that arrow out.
"Dear Eru," muttered Aemilia. "It has to weaken your arm." He flexed, causing a new gush of blood.
She grabbed him. "Stop it!"
"It's not too bad, and I can use a sword left-handed."
"Let us hope you won't have to fight anymore. After all, Lorien and Imladris will send out a party to look for all of you." The wizard interjected, studying the three elves all bruised, tired and two of them severely wounded. Aemilia ripped her skirts to make a pad and bandage for her mother's wound and for Bredwon as well, cursing the fact that they didn't have so much as a drop of water to tend to their wounds, never mind herbs. She thought briefly of going to look for something, but knew it wasn't wise. Swiftly turning to inspect her mother.
"What am I going to do if you die?" she muttered as she pulled the bandage tight, her eyes studying the pale features of her mother. "I won't die from this, my daughter." Celebrian moved warily away from her ministrations to lean against a wall. She leaned her head back against the wall and gripped her abdomen in a way that admitted the pain. Aemilia's anger faded. "Does it hurt very badly?"
Celebrian remained silent, her eyes sweeping over her daughter's tattered form. From her muddied cheeks, to her torn dress and blood splattered armor. Even that state, Aemilia still looked beautiful. She does not see herself making it out of here alive, Celebrian thought. Feeling weaker as time passes, moving her eyes and catching Bredwon's stare. Celebrian knew what she had to do. Her only thought was that she had not the chance to apologize to Elrond for making such a brazen decision, but she knew, he would understand. Elrond would have to understand, that giving her life would mean saving their daughter.
"As much as one would expect. The bleeding should stop in a while. Then the only real problem will be stiffness. We'll have to hope none of you will have to fight." The wizard's voice broke through the eerie silence. Realization was setting in, or perhaps it was just the chill of the cave. It was still raining heavily outside and the overcast blocking out the moon and stars leaving them in perpetual darkness, and Aemilia was dressed only in the remains of light linen and silk. She shivered, not from cold—for elves are not affected by extreme weather—but from fear.
The wizard moved to Aemilia's side, hoping to help the elleth tie the makeshift bandage around her mother's abdomen to stop the bleeding but her hands kept slipping from being covered by Bredwon's blood. "Allow me, milady." Placing his hand on Aemilia's shoulder.
A crack of lightning streaked and the sound vibrating around the cave, the light providing just enough illumination and a reflection of something caught Bredwon's gaze at the foot of the cave.
"Yrcs!" He hissed, moving to stand on shaky legs, and grabbing the blade with his left hand. His ears straining to hear the clinking of armor and scimitar as a handful of orcs tried to scour the cave. The sound hidden by the incessant downpour, and his previous preoccupation with his wounds. An amateur mistake!
On instinct, Allatar pushed Aemilia behind him, deeper into the caves, his hand brushing past her abdomen. Like touching flame and being scalded, he retracted his hand, surprise and panic filling his eyes. "Milady…" he breathed out, "You're expecting!" He whispered.
Sheer panic and astonishment, like being doused in ice cold water engulfed Aemilia's entire body. Her eyes widening, her mind blank. The only words she could get out, "No, I'm not."
Raising his hand, his eyes suddenly glowing bright blue, "I'm afraid you are."
Celebrian and Bredwon exchanged glances, their resolve hardening at what must be done. "Get my daughter out of here." In a flash, Celebrian was pushing Allatar to the back of the cave along with Amelia. Her wounds and pain momentarily forgotten, in its place a rush of adrenaline.
"Mother..no!"
"Please!" Celebrian pleaded, her eyes holding the startled gaze of the wizard. "It's the only way. Bredwon and I will hold them off." The wizard's gaze moving towards the other elf, who stood unmovingly, although his weight was obviously leaning towards more on the other leg, blood still oozing out if his wounds.
"This is madness! We can all escape." Aemilia tried to reason, but her cries were falling on deaf ears.
Hardening his gaze and nodding his head solemnly, Allatar moved to grasp Aemilia's arm, "We have to go." Pulling her deeper into the caves.
"Mother!" Aemilia's tears had started falling at what she realized must happen. Celebrian turned, brushing cupping her daughter's face in both hands, "I will always love you. I will always love all of you. If you ever see them again, tell them I love them." Celebrian could not afford more tears, but instead a sad smile gracing her features. "My only regret is that I'll never get to see my grandson. But I know he will deeply loved."
Aemiia's eyes widened at the information. "Being a daughter of the Lady of the Light has its benefits." Celebrian tried to ease her daughter's departure. A smile gracing her soft elven features that Celebrian knew must have looked like a grimace. Brushing her hand again and kissing her daughter's cheeks one last time and finally urging Aemilia to listen to Allatar. "Go."
With urgency, Allatar's pull suddenly became stronger. The sound of arriving orcs getting louder. "Milady, we have to go!"
"Mother.." Too stunned to react, Aemilia allowed herself to be dragged by the wizard deeper into the caves.
The sound of fighting and clashing swords erupted behind them as the wizard continued to drag Aemilia into its dark depths. Aemilia was choked into silence. Her heart and her mind battling. Logic is screaming at her to get back, that there is still a chance to get everyone out, but her heart was already adamant that her priority is her unborn child. A tiny elfling growing inside. An elfling conceived out of love. Suddenly the fight to escape is not just about her, but about her and Glorfindel's offspring. "There is no way out." Aemilia finally voiced, it felt like hours had already passed but it was only minutes.
"There is one way out." Allatar declared. "But we have to get far deeper, the orcs are too many."
"I have passed this way many times over wizard, there is no way out on the other side of this mountain!"
"We are not coming out on the other side of the mountain."
Startled to hear the wizard's admission, Aemilia studied Allatar as he stood running his hand under the rough surface of the cave walls. "What are you saying?"
Ignoring the lady's question, Allatar continued on. Grabbing Aemilia's arm he dragged her deeper and deeper. The silence stretched out before finally the sounds of fighting seemed faraway and fading. "There are paths in between worlds that are unknown…but only to two." Allatar breathed out, casting a dim glow from his staff as he lead the way down into the cave's ravine. "My task is not of this world. It is of a world far more advance in weaponry, skills and tactics and yet primitive in their beliefs."
"This is all very confusing." Uncertainty swimming in the depths of her eyes.
"Milady, the only way out is to travel between worlds. It is the only way for you and your unborn child to survive." Allatar's grim voice echoed in the silent caves as he turned his attention to her, the light casting an eerie glow to reveal a dead end. "There is a reason our paths have crossed. Your mother and the soldier will never make it out alive. That is the will of the Valar. Even I am muddled at first but now I understand. A greater scheme is at work and we must trust the fate that the paths, no matter how intertwined and seemingly out of reach will cross again."
Aemilia stared on, her hand going straight to her abdomen. Seemingly flat and still no sign of her pregnancy. Will this child ever have a chance at a normal life?
"The child inside of you has chance of a life, but only if you allow it. However, you can only cross once" His face took on an apologetic look as he studied the elleth's face, "You can never come back."
Aemilia paled at the news. How can she raise a child on her own? How can she continue on without Glorfindel by her side. Will the child ever know his father? Could there be any other way out of this cave without needing to cross worlds? Will her family forgive her for crossing? will her husband forgive her for leaving?
Suddenly, echoes of hurried footsteps and growls of the wretched creatures echoed in the dark cave towards them. The sound unpropitious and foreboding. If they are hunting her, what are the chances that her mother and Bredwon are still alive?
"Milady, we must hurry. Once you cross your elven features will diminish with time, the most obvious ones will fade first, the imperceptible will follow a few years down the line."
"I will fade…?" Aemilia's gaze bore down on the wizard, confusion and sadness mingling together.
Allatar did not answer her, but the pained expression on his face told her the answer to her question. "What about my child? What is going to happen to him?"
"Only the Valar can decide. But there is no turning back. Not for you." was the Wizard's grim answer."I have no time to explain, milady. I need a decision now." Allater urged on.
Glancing behind her one last time to spy the dim glow of distant torches and the sound of approaching steps, her hands holding onto her abdomen. Steeling her resolve and realizing what she must do, she lifted her head and locked gazes with the wizard. "Let's go."
Goheno nin, my love. Her last thought to Glorfindel before she was dragged again, a sob erupting out of her.
The light from Allatar's staff dimmed leaving them in total darkness. Even Aemilia's elven eyes could not fathom the inky blackness that covered them. She was being dragged again, but the wall she saw earlier was gone. In its place were…branches?
Swiping her hand, she felt branches and the muddy earth beneath her riding boots. Where are they?
Pushing further the foliage, her ears heard faint noises, noises that she could not decipher. Slowly but surely, they trekked their way, obviously they are no longer inside the cave. The air felt colder, fresher. Not anymore the dank, stale air from where they came from. Aemilia also tried to strain her ears and could not hear any sound from their foe.
It was not so dark anymore, too. The moon shining high above them, her elven eyes sharp and keen as it surveyed the surrounding trees. Even in this world it was still raining! Her ruined gown clinging to her legs as she made her way, following the wizard who was still with her as they continued to traverse forward.
Lights!
Up ahead, she could spot lights. lIghts of different colors, but they are moving rather fast. Horizontally across her vision were lights, just beyond the tall trees and foliage. Suddenly, her ears were assaulted with sounds. All around her were vivid sounds, like a banshee's cry or a wildcat's roar, it was deafening and it made her ears hurt.
"Just a little further, milady." Allatar commanded, his calm voice giving her an unwelcome comfort.
"Where are we, wizard?" Her harsh tone did not escape them both as she continued despite feeling trepidation on her current predicament. The sudden feeling of guilt and regret washing over her, the only thought that she was keeping her unborn child safe.
He will have a chance at a life.
'He.' Her unborn child was a boy.
Forward they went, avoiding the source of the lights she saw in the distance. Allatar mentioned about a 'highway'? And 'cars'? Everything was so confusing to Aemilia that she decided to keep silent until she would the proper time that her questions will be answered.
The rain had now stopped but they had continued to walk still. Reaching clearing at the end of the wooded area, they both stopped at the edge of a large garden. The place was huge, the garden surrounded with tall trees and an intricate design decorated the garden, like walls of grass and shrubbery. Following the wizard forward, Aemilia turned her head left and right, studying her current surroundings. A startled gasp escaped her when they came to stop in the middle of the garden where a lone Mallory tree stood. Around it where a pond much similar to what they have on Imladris, inside are golden tiny fishes swimming about.
"Professor!" A male voice exclaimed, his footsteps hurried as it approached them.
"William." The wizard greeted. The man never looked at the wizard, his gaze glued to the beautiful, young maiden who stood on the wizard's side. Her stance unsure and suspicious as she regarded everything around her. The wizard noticed, clearing his throat and deciding to introduce the two. "William, may I introduce Lady Aemilia." At this Aemilia turned her head swiftly to catch a man staring at her intently. "Milady, may I introduce to you, William. For intents and purposes, he is my colleague and an adventurer at heart."
Like a fish out of water, Aemilia turned to gape at the man. About the same height as her, with blond hair and striking deep brown eyes. Her gaze moving down as she spied peculiar clothing adorning the man's frame. Circular glasses framing his face.
"William, is a student of mine at the local university. He is fascinated with dimensions, astral planes and space and time continuum."
Aemilia's brow knitted at what the wizard just said, her eyes darting between the man and the wizard. "Len, ú-chenion…?"
"She's an elf!" The man exclaimed in excitement moving towards Aemilia in an attempt to study her closer, but Aemilia was faster. Moving out of the way, unsheathing her blade, the tip pointing directly at the man.
William stood frozen in awe and fear, raising both of his hands as a sign of surrender. "I'm sorry, my apologies. I didn't mean to scare you." But his eyes need left her, a slow smile curling up the side of his lips. Aemilia thought it made him looked younger. "Wow! A real elf, professor! This is…this is unbelievable." As if sensing he was being rude, noticing just then their state, William immediately moved aside, "Please, come inside. Let's get both of you warm and changed into some dry clothes. You're probably freezing."
It is indeed bizarre how fate works. The forever intertwining of its workings. The reasoning behind most likely remaining vague or concealed until on the opportune moment which is usually at the very last minute. As Aemilia stepped forward into the manor that would eventually become her home for the unforeseeable future, she felt the grasp of fate, soft and tender, like lover's hold. A sort of calm seemed to settle within her. And as she turned to gaze at the path from where they came, Aemilia thought with grim sadness that her life had been forever changed. The elfling that now is growing within her becoming much more important and significant than all the feelings of sadness and despair threatening to drown her.
Goheno nin, my love.
-Greenwood, Third Age 2968-
The King of Greenwood regarded his advisor—Alden—with a stern set on his lips and an attentive expression in his sapphire eyes. At three thousand years old, he was still a handsome elf with strikingly blonde hair, regal bearing, and the aloof, unshakable confidence and poise that comes from living a thoroughly privileged life.
Despite the stony dignity that characterized his every gesture, he was no stranger to grief, having already outlived many wars and evil that continue to surround and terrorize Greenwood. Yet so rigid was his self-control that not even his closest acquaintances were certain he had felt any real emotion in quite some time—and so enormous was his consequence among the elven society that none of them ever dared to ask.
The messenger his son had sent form the northern border spoke with bland continuity about the increasing number of threats from the grotesque abominations that surrounded Greenwood. Not only that, but talks of evil from the Southeast that had now start to stir had brought every elven race gossiping about the possibilities of another great war.
He betrayed no sign of alarm now as he serenely listened to Alden, who was sitting on one of the leather bound seat in his drawing room, a booted foot propped upon the opposite knee, casually offering suggestions on the distribution of the Greenwood along their boarders, doubling the watch and tightening their security. The logistics of it all was indeed a nightmare, what with the Princess' introduction and subsequent disappearance not six weeks ago, still fresh from the elven society. The palace had been scrambling to defend not only the Prince's action on his choice of priority and now the Princess' disappearance from the public eye. The people are clamoring for a word from their King.
"Lego—" the messenger caught himself at the King's icy glare as he almost mentioned the prince by his given name, a practice he seemed to relish when he was at camp, unfortunately such habit would not be tolerated in the heart of Greenwood kingdom."Prince Legolas, decided to stay, he did not specify how long..my lord." Clearing his throat again, "But, he sent his word. He orders that current and any future travels be postponed for everyone's security." Procuring two sealed letters from his garb, and handing them out.
Alden stood, reaching out and reading the names to whom the letters were addressed to. His face turning a pale white at the name addressed on the second letter. His movement stiff, his eyes unsure as he moved to pass on the letters to Thranduil, whose own eyes turned sad at the name written with his son's elegant script.
Adar, and Alex.
It had been a grueling month, and the responses from other Elven realms wanting to meet her had been pouring in. Thranduil left them all unanswered.
"His grace, the prince, had instructed that I await for further instructions from your office before I depart for the border again tonight. He was hoping that you would heed his plea to halt any and all travels, and that all boarders will be closed at this time as the threat has certainly gone riskier. The Northern gate has now been closed, your highness, under the Prince's instructions. Most of all who attempted to pass had been thwarted and those who had immediate business in Greenwood were thoroughly searched."
At the King's bewildered expression, the messenger clarified. "Orcs had been spotted, your highness. Warg riders were killed just a fortnight ago, just beyond the forest river where it junctions with Greylin."
Thranduil's faze hardened at the information.
"Spiders have also been spotted in East Bight and goblins have been spied over the boarders near Dol Guldur."
"That's impossible. Are we looking at an…invasion?" Alden's voice inquired at the messenger, all the while Thranduil remained quiet, his mind already working out the horror that now is a direct threat to them.
"The spiders have always been a nuisance, my lord. But the orcs..any altercation we have faced with them has always been by accident. Not if they can help it. It seems like they are just passing through…?" He did not intend it to come out like a question but it did.
Thranduil have never really liked vagueness or mystery or obscurity, as his eyes scanned the messenger, his voice cold and slightly condescending. "Make it brief." The single command alone demanded clarity and facts. The elf king was known for disliking dallying concerns.
"They…they are hunting for something, your grace. Like they are looking for something or someone."
Their attention was turned at the Emeril, who stood by the door of the room, who coughed politely to obtain recognition. "What is it?" Alden inquired.
Emeril drew himself up ramrod straight, his face contorted with distaste, his eyebrows positively levitating with ire. Directing his remarks to the King, he said, "There are four persons here, your grace, who insist upon seeing you. They arrived in just now and would not defer—"
"Who are they?" Thranduil interrupted impatiently.
"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, his twin sons Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir." Clearing his throat again before continuing, "and Lord Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower. Captain of the Imladris Guards."
Perplexed at the sudden turn of events, Thranduil stood tall his eyes looking over the messenger who seemed to have remained rooted on the floor. "Hannon le. That would be all for now. Alden will be in contact with you later with the instructions you will take to my son. Send them in." The last part of his sentence directed at Emeril who stood still as a statue by the drawing room doors.
The messenger bowed and turned to leave but not before watching in unmasked wonder and amazement at the Captain of Imladris. His gaze swiftly dropping to the floor at having been caught by the said elf, his silver eyes cold and hard, his face blank of any readable expression as he studied him and then as if seeing him as nothing of consequence, proceeded to study the King and his adviser who stood to welcome them inside.
The messenger tried to mask his excitement, trying to calm his beating heart and hyperventilation as he tried to calm himself down. He had stood before royalty and had been considered a trusted friend by a prince. Had ridden to battle countless times and was even considered an indomitable foe among his enemies but he had never felt incompetent and reduced to a mumbling nincompoop at the sight of one of the greatest—if not—'The' greatest elven warrior to have walked Arda.
The Captain of Imladris was tall and straight, his hair was of shining silver gold. His face fair, young and fearless. His silver eyes bright and keen. Descended from the House of Princes, the elf who killed a balrog in his past life! His body was buried along the cliffs of the Mountains that surrounded Gondolin. Rumor has it that Celandine yellow flowers grew on his mound despite its rocky foundation defying all odds. He fought alongside King Turgon and fought in the battle if Nirnaeth Arnoediad. He also fought against the great Morgoth and held the Great Market from the orcs. And yet here he was! The stories are indeed true. He was said to have been reincarnated and brought back as an emissary of the Valar who, by gossips say, was granted powers almost the same as the maiars. The messenger's eyes followed them, in Glorfindel's hand was strength as he grasp the hilt of his sword. Walking behind Lord Elrond and his sons.
The doors was almost closing in on the messenger when the first part of the confrontation started and it startled him more than anything he had encountered recently. "Where is my granddaughter?"
Thranduil raised his eyebrow at Elrond, his eyes belying his anger and disbelief despite his puzzlement at who the Lord of Imladris was referring to. "I beg your pardon, Elrond, but kindly enlighten as to which granddaughter are you in search of? I was not aware you had any family here in Greenwood."
"You are not aware because she herself is not in knowledge of that particular information." Elrond countered back haughtily, his brows knitting in silent rage and determination. The Lord of Imladris will not be leaving without her.
A humorless laugh twinkled at the corner of Thranduil's eyes at the sure absurdity of his current conversation, regarding his guests like insects beneath his feet he continued. "And, will this granddaughter of yours even acknowledge this lineage if she was not even made aware of this?"
"Leave that to me, Thranduil. But I can assure, we will not be leaving Greenwood without her."
A scoff escaped the King's lips before he stop himself, refusing to loose his composure at Elrond's audacity to come to Greenwood and demand something he had no idea he was in possession of. "Well then, by all means. Help yourself to this lost granddaughter of yours." His humorless eyes sweeping over Elrond's two sons and the elf-lord that has been a subject of legends.
"And, I would like to have a word with your son as well."
Thranduil's eyes hardened, is facial features masking into a blank, bored gaze as he regarded Elrond again. This time a trickle of quiet unease and apprehension sliding down his spine. Suspicion settled in his gut at the usual timing that the Lords from Imladris decided to grace them at Greenwood. "Legolas is not here. He left not six weeks past to deal with a menace threatening our borders and the security of Greenwood."
"I see. May we see her then?" Elrond's expression seemingly thrilled and unbothered that the Prince of Greenwood is away at the moment.
Alden's neck was receiving a beating at the moment. His head moving back and forth, in fascination, at the display of regal lordship and power. Both elves refusing to back down. Feeling lost and in need of enlightenment, he had to ask. "I beg your pardon, my lords. But who exactly are you referring to?" His eyes switching between the guests from Imladris and King Thranduil who looked, equally perplexed.
Until then Glorfindel had resigned to remaining quiet, his eyes kind as it remained observing the exchange between Elrond and Thranduil. The sudden intrusion of the advisor, brought everything to a standstill. The attention panning across the room towards the elf in question. Everyone remained stoic and quiet as they all waited for one of them to voice out the answer. Calm as ever, Glorfindel enunciated every syllable, "Alexandria. My granddaughter, and Elrond's great granddaughter by extension."
The name echoed around the room. Thranduil swayed from where he was standing. His hand bracing across the large oak desk in front of him. For the first time in his long life, he was caught off guard by the turn of events. "It cannot be."
"Th..The Princess?!" disbelief and astonishment radiating around the room at Alden's outburst.
"Not if we have a say in it." Elladan muttered dryly, his gaze challenging as moved to the advisor. Elrond's gaze became soft and pleading, stepping forward to capture the King's confused gaze. "Thranduil, I beg of you. We need to see her."
"She's gone." The King muttered, his voice quiet and resigned. His eyes lingering on Glorfindel. Trying to piece together how Alex was connected with the elf-lord.
"Where is she?" Glorfindel's gaze hardening, this time he moved to stand beside Elrond.
Thranduil's gaze never left the reincarnated elf, but his voice rang out towards Alden. "Lock the room. Nobody enters and no one leaves until we have sorted this out." Returning to his seat and gesturing to the other elf lords to do the same, he fixed his gaze on Glorfindel. "How?"
It was grueling hour after that. The Lords from Imladris had to recount the details leading to the death of Lady Celebrian and her daughter unto the time Arwen met little Alex lost in their gardens.
Celebrian's camp had been raided, the line of elven corpses a few distance ahead a foretelling that they had tried to escape. Glorfindel knew that they had taken the alternative route. The messenger Bredwon tried to send to call for aid found dead two days ride from Rivendell. It was a messenger from Lorien instead who had informed them of the grim news. The marchwarden was perplexed when the entourage of Lady Celebrian had not arrived at the agreed assembly point. Following his gut that something had happened for them to be delayed, Haldir gathered a small party of elven scout that included him and decided to scour the route they would have taken. What they found was a stuff of nightmares.
Elrond, together with his sons and Glorfindel all rushed at the news. Surprised to receive a messenger from Lorien only to be greeted with the sad turn of events. It was Glorfindel who had lead the search party along the alternate route he had planned with Bredwon, and in that road they found traces of struggle and a few more bodies of elven soldiers. Moving along the road further ahead, they found traces of skirmish, rotting corpses of orc and elves mingled together. It was a challenge to trace their steps afterwards but they found the bodies. Found the cave from where they tried to seek refuge. It was the stench of rotting flesh that welcomed them
Bredwon's corpse greeted them first. His head and left arm was decapitated. Arrows sticking out his body.
Lady Celebrian's own corpse a few feet deeper into the cave. Her face and body was beaten beyond recognition. The only identifiable thing to ascertain her identity was her blonde hair already caked with mud and dried blood and the Imladris crest carved into her armor and the silver gown she wore that same day they left Imladris. All around their bodies, orc corpses littered too, signifying that they had fought until the very last.
Aemilia was nowhere to be found.
Presumed dead after a decade of search. The Lord of Imladris had finally put his youngest daughter's memory to rest—even with no corpse—along with his wife's and the elven soldiers that died with them.
His youngest daughter, wife of the Captain of Imladris had now been presumed dead for over three centuries.
Thranduil closed his eyes, feeling the horrors and seeing the images that plagued his mind of his own wife in the same form. Tortured first and then murdered and her body left along the roads to be discovered later on. He knew of the terror that had fallen on the family of Elrond but not the details.
"And you presume that Alexandria is somehow a ghost of Aemilia?" Thranduil carefully delivered his question. An understanding had seemed to pass between the King of Greenwood and the Lords of Imladris for their pain mirrored each others. Losing a loved one to such horrible circumstances is gut-wrenching.
"I do not presume, Thranduil. I know. Alex had introduced herself as Aemilia's grand daughter the morning Arwen found her scampering about the gardens in Imladris. If you cannot recall, Alex is the spitting image of Aemilia."
Alden had remained quiet throughout the exchange, feeling the disappearance of Alex even more now than six weeks ago. They had presume she was of no importance. They had presumed she was a mortal and they had presumed she was of no proper lineage and connection.
They were wrong. On all accounts. The regret swam in him at how she was treated by the Greenwood society and the ridicule she received weeks following her debut.
The only Greenwood elf who had offered her unbridled acceptance was Legolas who saw her as his friend. Even if the circumstances of their binding was questionable and Legolas' misplaced reasoning of pity for refusing to entertain the idea of separation.
That last thought gave Alden the shiver. Everything made perfect sense now. The sudden appearance of the Lords from Imladris and their insistence that they do not leave without her. As the conversation floated around him, his mind tried to piece together all the information he had gathered so far.
Alex was not a mere nameless mortal but from a long line of elven aristocrats of Imladris, with her lineage tracing even as far as the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien.
Alex is not aware of this lineage.
Lady Aemilia had somehow survived the ambush three hundred and sixty eight years ago and is alive somewhere.
Legolas was not aware of Alex's possible connection by lineage to Imladris and Lothlorien.
Legolas was not even aware that his wife is missing!
Leaning forward in his seat and placing both his hand on his face, Alden took a large calming breath to steel his nerves. "Are you alright, mellon?" It was one of the twins who had asked him, but at the moment he cannot discern who.
"I'm afraid he's going to faint." The other twin commented. "Nay. I say he needs a drink." The Captain of Imladris dryly added, no hint of humor or disdain.
Thranduil moved his gaze over to Alden who was already hunched over looking green and uneasy. "Alden, for the love Eru. Comport yourself." Returning his gaze over to Elrond, he continued. "But these are all speculations, Elrond. There is no way of knowing until Aemilia herself somehow materializes and claims all of your assumptions are true."
"That it be. Then I suggest you leave the discerning to us." Elrond said, gesturing to his son and Glorfindel. "What I would like for you to grant, however, is to proclaim their marriage null and void."
Thranduil bristled at the demand but composed himself. "Do not mistake in thinking I haven't tried that. But my son is as stubborn as a mule. And I do believe, in elven tradition both parties should make the appeal before any elf lord, or elf king—in this case—grant their appeal. Alex bound herself to him, not the other way around." If he did or did not meant to make it sound condescending, no one in that room will know, but nobody had the energy to call it out. "She is now my daughter too. And it is in my duty to protect their interests."
"And how old was she when she bound herself?" Glorfindel questioned, his eyes turning into slits as he regarded the elf king with no fear.
"Oh Valar!" Alden gasped out, standing and walking over the farthest side of the room all the while hyperventilating. "Fifteen." Thranduil's voice rang out in the silent room ignoring his advisor who was palpitating in the other side of the room.
Elladan and Elrohir stood at once, their gazes filled with disbelief and rage while Glorfindel took a sharp intake of breath at the news. "This is preposterous! You let a child marry your son?—I'm sorry." The sarcasm dripping in Elladan's tone, "You allowed your son to marry a child?!"
"I think 'allow' is such a misuse of a term to describe what I was forced—coerced—to agree to. And do not mistake that you can raise your voice against me." Thranduil's calm tone startled the elf. "Their marriage maybe unconventional. Questionable at best. But their friendship is not."
Elrond's resigned expression and silence not garnered the attention of the twins and Glorfindel. "We only met her once, but it was enough for us to conclude that she was family. She was eight years old at the time, a mere infant on elf years, yet she spoke refinery and was articulate for her age. She loved art more than anything." Elrond's eyes glazed, recalling the memory in vivid detail. "She spoke of your son and their peculiar friendship numerous times. She spoke of Aragorn too." Elrond's eyes shined with unshed tears. His face grim as he regarded the silent King sitting opposite him.
"Thranduil, " Glorfindel spoke softly startling the elf King for he had not heard him address him in his name before. "We have to talk to your son. He has to know."
"No." Thranduil's face turned frosty, but the pain that flickered in his eyes was not missed by the elf-warrior. "He must not know. We must keep this to ourselves until we are fairly sure that what you told me is true. Alex has gone back to her world, and that information alone will devastate him. I have not have the heart yet to tell him that. I don't want to burden him any longer with speculations that she might have been an elf. An elf who had every right and familial lineage to be married to a prince." Thranduil's gaze softened, his face mirroring the pain he felt when Alex found out the truth of why she was ostracized by the elven society. "I will take the responsibility, when the day comes—and it will come— that they will question the decision. Alex is as much as my daughter now, as she is your grand daughter. I failed them once. I want to protect them properly this time."
"My friend," Elrond moved to stand his gaze understanding at what Thranduil was willing to do to protect them and that earned him respect in Elrond's books.
"Stay as long as you need to. You are welcome here in Greenwood." With finality and leaving no room for argument, Thranduil arose from his seat and gestured to Alden who was still standing at the far corner of the room his eyes reflecting pity and admiration at the King's bravery. "See to it they are properly accommodated. I will discuss the matter of our border with the messenger." Turning his gaze again to the four elves who sat watching him. " We will convene again. I wish to hear more about your discovery and I will gladly discuss with you what Alex has been up to so far here in Greenwood." Turning and effectively dismissing them. His stance equally rigid and regal perfectly concealing the raging war of thoughts and emotions inside him.
Anel nin, where are you?
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AN: I hope this clarifies any questions about Aemilia. =) This story has one last flashback, can you guess who's it going to be? *wink*wink*
I really hope you are enjoying so far.
Translations:
Goheno, nin - Forgive me.
Len, ú-chenion - I don't understand.
Anel nin - my daughter/ my child