1 Come What May
- By Hitchhiker
1.1
1.2 Chapter Three
Why, bleeding is breathing?
Your hiding underneath the smoke in the room.
Try, bleeding is believing,
I saw you, crawling on the floor.
-Natalie Imbruglia, "Smoke"
*~*~*~*~*
Elrond gazed out at the city of Rivendell, his face blank and emotionless. The beauty that seemed to strike all others found no place in his heart this evening.
Anyone who gazed long enough into Elrond's eyes as he stared at the stars, so brilliant and glorious they were, would see the pain and longing he kept hidden from everyone during the daylight hours. The pain and longing that came from many years being utterly alone, wishing upon every star for someone to love.
"Oh, stars," he murmured, his voice barely reaching the still night air, "Why do you deny me a wish that is so needed? I should not want to live any longer if I have no one to love."
The soft creaking of the door behind him interrupted Elrond's prayer to the night sky. He turned and saw the beautiful ace of his daughter, Arwen Evenstar.
"Father," she said softly, "Are you well?"
"My dear," he replied, putting on a smile, "After all these long years of my life, you choose now to worry about my health?"
Arwen's eyes spoke before her mouth. "It is not your health that concerns me. It is your heart."
A long moment of silence passed between the two immortals. Arwen was about to make another remark when a young, breathless Elf, whose name was Annûn, burst into the room, kneeling before Elrond.
"Lord Elrond, Mithrandir and Frodo Baggins have just returned from the Grey Havens and are at the city's gates as we speak."
Elrond's heart leapt at the thought of his dear friends returning from across the seas. But something was not right Annûn's eyes.
"Well, then why are they not here to greet me personally? And why are you so out of breath? Has something happened?"
"When they arrived, I sent them to one of the sick rooms, my lord."
"Was one of them injured?" demanded Elrond, concern etched on every feature on his face.
"No, but one who traveled with them was. A maiden, whose name I do not know," Replied Annûn.
"Show me to them." Elrond demanded firmly.
*~*~*~*~*
Although it was nighttime, the sick room was brightly lit with lamps and made the almost completely white room, shine with purity.
Elrond swept inside and saw Gandalf standing with Frodo, facing a woman lying on the bed.
She was flushed with fever, dark blond hair plastered to her sweaty brow and cheeks. Although unconscious, she was not at rest, and he could plainly see why.
Long, deep slashes riddled her arms all the way to her wrists, and a deep gash was set in her left shoulder. White bone gleamed in the lamplight and it still oozed blood slightly.
"Gandalf," he said with an intake of breath, "What happened? Who is she?"
The weary old man sighed, his eyes troubled. "I know not who she is, but she was captured by orcs and we found her like this."
Elrond's heart stopped at the words 'orcs'. Visions of the foul monstrosities and what they were capable of swam through his head, making his stomach churn and blood boil.
He laid a cool hand upon her forehead, seeing her shrink away although he meant her no harm. He sighed and turned to see Arwen at the door. At her side was her husband, Aragorn. Both wore expressions of pity and worry, although neither knew the girl.
Elrond faced Annûn, a grave expression on his face. "Her wounds are infected and fever has already set in. Fetch me a basin of cool water and clean cloths, and return quickly. Go. Now!"
As they waited, Elrond sat beside the bed, trying to soothe the girl, although he could do little without proper medicine.
Arwen stood beside him, watching the fever-stricken child with sad and thoughtful eyes. She traced her long fingers lightly on the girl's wounded shoulder, releasing a hiss of pain from her. She drew back, more sad than before, returning to Aragorn's side.
When Annûn returned, Elrond placed the cloths and water on a small table bedside the bed. He dipped a cloth into the water and began cleaning the wounds. Without looking up, he ordered. "Now leave me, I need complete concentration. But stay in earshot so I can call if needs be."
2
3 He turned back to the wounded figure, without much optimism for her or himself.
4
*~*~*~*~*
5
In the world of dreams, Hope found herself seated on a hard stone bench, facing a long, grey marble hallway. It seemed to stretch forever, completely symmetrical; supported by rows of carven pillars.
Out of the gloom to the sides of her, figures emerged. They were impossibly tall and thin, dressed richly in dark clothing. However their faces were grey, blurry and indistinct.
They whispered at her in merciless and cruel voices. Hope could feel their hatred and it seemed well-deserved although she did not know what she could have done to the ghostly people.
Their whispers of malice grew to screams and they began to advance on her, hands outstretched like the claws of wild animals. Hope leaped of the bench and began to run as fast as she could down the marble hallway, trying to rid herself of the terrible voices.
The hands reached and tried to seize her, raking her with talon-like hands. The voices elevated until they echoed off the walls and were the only things Hope could here.
It seemed Hope ran forever, striving to get away. After an eternity, Hope reached the end of the hallway. Instead of a blank wall, it was a window, as high and wide as the wall it was set in.
The clouds outside were as grey as the stone floors, rain spattering the windows lightly. Beyond, she saw a vast forest of black trees. Past that was a large, rain-washed field which ended in a sudden high cliff above the sea. On the cliff stood what appeared to be a lighthouse or some sort of tower.
Suddenly, the voices Hope had been so sure that she had run away from began again behind her. She turned slowly, unwilling to meet the frightening, distorted faces of the impossibly ancient people that wished harm upon her.
A figure taller than the others stepped forward with a glinting object hovering in the air before him. A dagger of black steel, set with blood red stones on the hilt. The voices had reached their highest pitches.
Hope felt hot tears spring to her eyes. "Why?" she screamed helplessly, "Why do you hate me? What have I done to deserve this? Won't you help me?"
The ghost-like creatures gave her no answer. There was a speeding sound in the air, and Hope saw the wicked blade hurtling toward her. She screamed as the blade hit home in her heart and then she fell into blackness.
*~*~*~*~*
Elrond was shocked to see the sick girl who had been so still suddenly begin to thrash about as if trying to get away from something, screaming in pain and fear.
He tried to restrain her for the fear that she would hurt herself. He dabbed her forehead with a cold cloth and whispered to her in soft, silky words of Elvish nothings.
Eventually, the unknown girl stopped thrashing, but her skin was hotter and her breath was fast and shallow, as was her pulse.
"Even in her dreams, she finds no peace. What is it that frightens her so?"
*~*~*~*~*
Hope stood in the field she had seen from the window in the marble hall. The rain was not hard, but as it struck her skin, unimaginable cold spread through her body. The grass was long and a few pale purple wildflowers dotted the rain-soaked meadow. The sound of the sea was around her, the crashing of the waves on the shore and then the pulling back, only to crash again.
The tower she had seen was there as well, far taller than she had thought before. She walked to the wooden door and pulled on the black metal handle. With great effort, the door moved open and Hope slipped inside.
There was a spiral stone staircase leading upward and slowly, without a sound, Hope ascended, wishing she knew what was happening to her. A cold wind blew through the stairs, and Hope shivered, not only at the cold, but at the ominous feeling that grew in her heart.
She reached the top of the stairs and was met with an overhead door. She pushed it open and she could once again hear the waves roaring. At the top of the tower was a platform, and from here she could see out across the deep grey sea. Behind her was the forest and the horrible hallway with the shadow creatures.
Abruptly, a cry tore the air, as deafening and lonely as a solitary wolf's howl. Hope turned around and saw a colossal figure rising up from the ground below the meadow. It was jet black and taller than the tower. It had enormous eyes, the color of fresh blood and it stared, unblinking, at her, emanating hostility.
It began to umber toward her, bellowing it's mind wrenching howl. Hope sank to her knees, hands covering her ears, sobbing from the sound.
"Go away," she screamed, "Go away! Leave me alone!"
*~*~*~*~*
Another fit of convulsion had seized the girl. She screamed out protests and cries of pain, undoubtedly from something in her fever spawned dreams. Tears slipped out from her closed eyes. Elrond took the girl's hand and held it to his forehead. He felt his own eyes water at the cries of fear from the girl.
He choked back a sob and began to sing:
"A ElberethGilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
O galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
Nef aear, sí nef aearon!"
As tears slipped down the ancient cheeks of the lord of Imladris, he sang the song again and again, fighting to keep the nightmares of the girl at bay so she could heal.
*~*~*~*~*
So close the foul shadow-creature was. So close to the figure of Hope, trembling and sobbing at the top of the tower.
But a voice caught her ears, as faint a dove's cry. A voice, singing a beautiful song, full of starlight and beauty and life. Hope raised her head and saw a tall figure, shining like the most brilliant star in the night sky. It held out a hand, waiting for Hope to take it.
The creature of shadow howled and moved faster toward her, but it seemed weaker beside the light of the being before her. The wind blew harder and it seemed like it was trying to blow the light out, but it seemed only to make it stronger.
Hope raised her own hand and touched the brilliant figure, with the shadow only inches from seizing her. Then, all was white.
*~*~*~*~*
Elrond awoke, to find his head resting on the hand of the girl. Her hand was cold and his first thought was that she had died, and he had failed. But he heard her soft, deep breaths and saw her face, finally at rest. The fever had broken.
The door behind him opened and Arwen stepped in. She saw the girl breathing easily and smiled happily.
"Come, father," she said softly, "Rest now."
And Elrond left the sick-room, but his thoughts were on the sleeping girl for the rest of the night.
*~*~*~*~*
Disclaimer : I don't own nothin.
A/N : Whew, it took me a week to write that. I like it, but I'm probably the only one. More dialogue in the next chapter when she wakes up.
- By Hitchhiker
1.1
1.2 Chapter Three
Why, bleeding is breathing?
Your hiding underneath the smoke in the room.
Try, bleeding is believing,
I saw you, crawling on the floor.
-Natalie Imbruglia, "Smoke"
*~*~*~*~*
Elrond gazed out at the city of Rivendell, his face blank and emotionless. The beauty that seemed to strike all others found no place in his heart this evening.
Anyone who gazed long enough into Elrond's eyes as he stared at the stars, so brilliant and glorious they were, would see the pain and longing he kept hidden from everyone during the daylight hours. The pain and longing that came from many years being utterly alone, wishing upon every star for someone to love.
"Oh, stars," he murmured, his voice barely reaching the still night air, "Why do you deny me a wish that is so needed? I should not want to live any longer if I have no one to love."
The soft creaking of the door behind him interrupted Elrond's prayer to the night sky. He turned and saw the beautiful ace of his daughter, Arwen Evenstar.
"Father," she said softly, "Are you well?"
"My dear," he replied, putting on a smile, "After all these long years of my life, you choose now to worry about my health?"
Arwen's eyes spoke before her mouth. "It is not your health that concerns me. It is your heart."
A long moment of silence passed between the two immortals. Arwen was about to make another remark when a young, breathless Elf, whose name was Annûn, burst into the room, kneeling before Elrond.
"Lord Elrond, Mithrandir and Frodo Baggins have just returned from the Grey Havens and are at the city's gates as we speak."
Elrond's heart leapt at the thought of his dear friends returning from across the seas. But something was not right Annûn's eyes.
"Well, then why are they not here to greet me personally? And why are you so out of breath? Has something happened?"
"When they arrived, I sent them to one of the sick rooms, my lord."
"Was one of them injured?" demanded Elrond, concern etched on every feature on his face.
"No, but one who traveled with them was. A maiden, whose name I do not know," Replied Annûn.
"Show me to them." Elrond demanded firmly.
*~*~*~*~*
Although it was nighttime, the sick room was brightly lit with lamps and made the almost completely white room, shine with purity.
Elrond swept inside and saw Gandalf standing with Frodo, facing a woman lying on the bed.
She was flushed with fever, dark blond hair plastered to her sweaty brow and cheeks. Although unconscious, she was not at rest, and he could plainly see why.
Long, deep slashes riddled her arms all the way to her wrists, and a deep gash was set in her left shoulder. White bone gleamed in the lamplight and it still oozed blood slightly.
"Gandalf," he said with an intake of breath, "What happened? Who is she?"
The weary old man sighed, his eyes troubled. "I know not who she is, but she was captured by orcs and we found her like this."
Elrond's heart stopped at the words 'orcs'. Visions of the foul monstrosities and what they were capable of swam through his head, making his stomach churn and blood boil.
He laid a cool hand upon her forehead, seeing her shrink away although he meant her no harm. He sighed and turned to see Arwen at the door. At her side was her husband, Aragorn. Both wore expressions of pity and worry, although neither knew the girl.
Elrond faced Annûn, a grave expression on his face. "Her wounds are infected and fever has already set in. Fetch me a basin of cool water and clean cloths, and return quickly. Go. Now!"
As they waited, Elrond sat beside the bed, trying to soothe the girl, although he could do little without proper medicine.
Arwen stood beside him, watching the fever-stricken child with sad and thoughtful eyes. She traced her long fingers lightly on the girl's wounded shoulder, releasing a hiss of pain from her. She drew back, more sad than before, returning to Aragorn's side.
When Annûn returned, Elrond placed the cloths and water on a small table bedside the bed. He dipped a cloth into the water and began cleaning the wounds. Without looking up, he ordered. "Now leave me, I need complete concentration. But stay in earshot so I can call if needs be."
2
3 He turned back to the wounded figure, without much optimism for her or himself.
4
*~*~*~*~*
5
In the world of dreams, Hope found herself seated on a hard stone bench, facing a long, grey marble hallway. It seemed to stretch forever, completely symmetrical; supported by rows of carven pillars.
Out of the gloom to the sides of her, figures emerged. They were impossibly tall and thin, dressed richly in dark clothing. However their faces were grey, blurry and indistinct.
They whispered at her in merciless and cruel voices. Hope could feel their hatred and it seemed well-deserved although she did not know what she could have done to the ghostly people.
Their whispers of malice grew to screams and they began to advance on her, hands outstretched like the claws of wild animals. Hope leaped of the bench and began to run as fast as she could down the marble hallway, trying to rid herself of the terrible voices.
The hands reached and tried to seize her, raking her with talon-like hands. The voices elevated until they echoed off the walls and were the only things Hope could here.
It seemed Hope ran forever, striving to get away. After an eternity, Hope reached the end of the hallway. Instead of a blank wall, it was a window, as high and wide as the wall it was set in.
The clouds outside were as grey as the stone floors, rain spattering the windows lightly. Beyond, she saw a vast forest of black trees. Past that was a large, rain-washed field which ended in a sudden high cliff above the sea. On the cliff stood what appeared to be a lighthouse or some sort of tower.
Suddenly, the voices Hope had been so sure that she had run away from began again behind her. She turned slowly, unwilling to meet the frightening, distorted faces of the impossibly ancient people that wished harm upon her.
A figure taller than the others stepped forward with a glinting object hovering in the air before him. A dagger of black steel, set with blood red stones on the hilt. The voices had reached their highest pitches.
Hope felt hot tears spring to her eyes. "Why?" she screamed helplessly, "Why do you hate me? What have I done to deserve this? Won't you help me?"
The ghost-like creatures gave her no answer. There was a speeding sound in the air, and Hope saw the wicked blade hurtling toward her. She screamed as the blade hit home in her heart and then she fell into blackness.
*~*~*~*~*
Elrond was shocked to see the sick girl who had been so still suddenly begin to thrash about as if trying to get away from something, screaming in pain and fear.
He tried to restrain her for the fear that she would hurt herself. He dabbed her forehead with a cold cloth and whispered to her in soft, silky words of Elvish nothings.
Eventually, the unknown girl stopped thrashing, but her skin was hotter and her breath was fast and shallow, as was her pulse.
"Even in her dreams, she finds no peace. What is it that frightens her so?"
*~*~*~*~*
Hope stood in the field she had seen from the window in the marble hall. The rain was not hard, but as it struck her skin, unimaginable cold spread through her body. The grass was long and a few pale purple wildflowers dotted the rain-soaked meadow. The sound of the sea was around her, the crashing of the waves on the shore and then the pulling back, only to crash again.
The tower she had seen was there as well, far taller than she had thought before. She walked to the wooden door and pulled on the black metal handle. With great effort, the door moved open and Hope slipped inside.
There was a spiral stone staircase leading upward and slowly, without a sound, Hope ascended, wishing she knew what was happening to her. A cold wind blew through the stairs, and Hope shivered, not only at the cold, but at the ominous feeling that grew in her heart.
She reached the top of the stairs and was met with an overhead door. She pushed it open and she could once again hear the waves roaring. At the top of the tower was a platform, and from here she could see out across the deep grey sea. Behind her was the forest and the horrible hallway with the shadow creatures.
Abruptly, a cry tore the air, as deafening and lonely as a solitary wolf's howl. Hope turned around and saw a colossal figure rising up from the ground below the meadow. It was jet black and taller than the tower. It had enormous eyes, the color of fresh blood and it stared, unblinking, at her, emanating hostility.
It began to umber toward her, bellowing it's mind wrenching howl. Hope sank to her knees, hands covering her ears, sobbing from the sound.
"Go away," she screamed, "Go away! Leave me alone!"
*~*~*~*~*
Another fit of convulsion had seized the girl. She screamed out protests and cries of pain, undoubtedly from something in her fever spawned dreams. Tears slipped out from her closed eyes. Elrond took the girl's hand and held it to his forehead. He felt his own eyes water at the cries of fear from the girl.
He choked back a sob and began to sing:
"A ElberethGilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
O galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
Nef aear, sí nef aearon!"
As tears slipped down the ancient cheeks of the lord of Imladris, he sang the song again and again, fighting to keep the nightmares of the girl at bay so she could heal.
*~*~*~*~*
So close the foul shadow-creature was. So close to the figure of Hope, trembling and sobbing at the top of the tower.
But a voice caught her ears, as faint a dove's cry. A voice, singing a beautiful song, full of starlight and beauty and life. Hope raised her head and saw a tall figure, shining like the most brilliant star in the night sky. It held out a hand, waiting for Hope to take it.
The creature of shadow howled and moved faster toward her, but it seemed weaker beside the light of the being before her. The wind blew harder and it seemed like it was trying to blow the light out, but it seemed only to make it stronger.
Hope raised her own hand and touched the brilliant figure, with the shadow only inches from seizing her. Then, all was white.
*~*~*~*~*
Elrond awoke, to find his head resting on the hand of the girl. Her hand was cold and his first thought was that she had died, and he had failed. But he heard her soft, deep breaths and saw her face, finally at rest. The fever had broken.
The door behind him opened and Arwen stepped in. She saw the girl breathing easily and smiled happily.
"Come, father," she said softly, "Rest now."
And Elrond left the sick-room, but his thoughts were on the sleeping girl for the rest of the night.
*~*~*~*~*
Disclaimer : I don't own nothin.
A/N : Whew, it took me a week to write that. I like it, but I'm probably the only one. More dialogue in the next chapter when she wakes up.