A/N
Sorry for the delay with this chapter. Chalk it up to real life being a pain in the neck; essays, exams and
throw in an incompetent phone company and you had a very annoyed Little she-bear. Huggles to everyone who reviewed especially-
Dragon: Welcome back. Y Ddraig Goch
ddyry cychwyn! That's about as far as my knowledge
of the Welsh language extends unfortunately, well, I do know some other Welsh
phrases but they're not really to be used in polite company! I should have guessed you were a member of the
Taffia with a penname like that. Mwah
ha ha, the Taffia shall
take over ff.net…
Nemis: Once again you have my gratitude for
vanquishing the evil typo-demon.
Arabella Thorne:
I've made something you thought should be more obvious, just a little
bit more so. I only added one word but I think it did the trick. We'll see.
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"Baw, baw! Dartho!"
Elwing did her best to block out the memory of Elrond's screams, his pleading for her not to leave the house. She hugged herself and tried to focus on the task in hand only to be reminded of tiny fingers clawing at her dress, doing their utmost to drag her away from the door.
She scanned the town from her vantage point on the balcony of the town hall, flanked by two archers. All the beacons were lit; while she had little doubt that the glow of the firelight would be seen in Balar, she did not hold any hope for salvation from there any time soon but she did her best not to show it.
Elwing sent thanks to Eru that the attack had come from the East, the opposite side of town from her home. Elrond and Elros were safe, at least for now. She peered through the smoke towards the battle in puzzlement.
"Their advance is slowing," she pointed towards the fray. "See! They are doubling back!"
"I would say there is rebellion in the ranks, Lady," replied the archer to her right.
"Perhaps fortune does smile on us this night," Elwing whispered hopefully to herself. She gripped the balustrade with one hand and absentmindedly stroked her other fingers across a lacquered box sitting on a table beside her. She allowed herself an expectant smile as she watched her enemy's troops descend into confusion; facing attacks from Arvenien's troops and their own lackeys. Perhaps all was not lost, perhaps her new-found allies would see them through.
~*~
Elrond was perched on the edge of the chaise-longue in the audience room, his hands resting uselessly on his knees. The blind panic that had hit him when he realised that the town was under attack had subsided to a dull ache of acceptance; the event he had been dreading since that fateful encounter was happening. It was happening and there was nothing he could do. Strangely enough, the thing he wanted to do the most was sleep. The constant tension in his muscles had made him tired and the temptation to curl up and block out the tumult was almost overwhelming. No matter how much his body wanted to submit though, his mind would not allow it. He half-listened to the sounds coming from the town and half-listened (though not heeding) Nárwen's assurances that all would be well.
-"And the King and Cirdan will send ships to aid us, you will see. They will regret this attack, mark my words." She began to slide a bookcase along the wall to the window. "Furthermore," she paused a moment to get her breath back, then continued, "They will never make it this far. One of the guards told me that they are already being pushed back. They obviously underestimated us."
Elrond's voice cracked out of the desert of his mouth. "So why are you barricading the windows then?"
Nárwen exhaled sharply as she finally got the bookcase all the way across the window. "It does not hurt to be cautious."
"The ships will never get here in time."
"Elrond." Nárwen alternated her gaze very pointedly between Elrond and the pale form of Elros, who was sitting cross legged on the floor. There was no anger in her voice, just a pleading tone, tinged with a little disappointment.
When Elrond looked down at his brother he did feel ashamed. Elros' ashen face now had fat, silent tears rolling down it, while he gripped Roitar with two hands, as though the toy were some talisman that would protect him from all harm. Nárwen went to Elros and helped him to his feet. He rose somewhat stiffly, still holding Roitar in one white-knuckled hand. They joined Elrond on the seat, Elros on one side of her, hiding his face in her dress, Elrond on the other, still not moving a muscle.
"Listen to me, both of you." Nárwen put a comforting arm around Elrond as well as Elros. "Nothing is going to happen, do you hear me? Even if those pathetic excuses for Elves do get here, do you think I am going to just stand by and let them hurt you?" Elrond shook his head stiffly and turned his attention to trying to work out if the sounds of the battle were getting any closer.
~*~
Elwing watched in dismay as she saw fires begin to spring up from nowhere near where she thought the battle was taking place. She turned back towards the first conflict to see that the formerly stalled force was now sweeping through the town faster than ever. The invaders were now so close that even through the thick smoke, she could make out armour and drawn weapons reflecting firelight. She thought she could hear someone calling to her but the only sounds that registered with her were the anguished cries of people fleeing their homes, searching for loved ones or grieving for them.
"My Lady!"
Elwing felt a hand on her shoulder, spinning her round.
"It is no longer safe here, we must leave."
She could hear the Captain of the Guard but his voice seemed muted to her. "My- my boys," she intoned.
"I have sent whomever I can spare but I do not hold much hope. Maedhros brought relief to the first wave and Maglor is attacking from the West. Your home is all but cut off." He shook his head in despair, "We are overwhelmed." He beckoned forcefully, "Come, Maedhros will reach here soon."
"Where do you suggest I go Captain? You say I am being attacked on two fronts and I have the sea to my back. Where can I go?" In an instant the daze that Elwing had found herself in lifted. She turned to the lacquered box and opened it with a determined expression on her face to reveal the very reason her people were under attack. The light streamed from the box and reflected off her white garb. She grasped the Nauglamír and smiled grimly.
Very well. I am leaving.
~*~
"Nárwen! What is happening?" Elrond stood on the bottom step, calling anxiously up the stairs. Nárwen appeared on the landing, tucked a short sword into her cloth belt, then descended the stair, moving so quickly she seemed to float down.
"Come on, Elros, you too." She took each child by the hand and they were led through the house, half-running, half-being dragged. Nárwen came to a stop beside a tapestry wall-hanging just outside the kitchen. She drew it back to reveal a small door set into the wood panelling of the hallway. She took out a key, her shaking hands taking three attempts to get it in the lock. She unlocked the door and shooed them inside. "In the cupboard, hide here." She squatted down to their level and hugged them both to her. "Just stay very quiet and do not come out unless I come to get you." She sat back to look at them and asked if they understood. Elrond nodded, while Elros did his best to swallow hiccoughs and sobs. Nárwen gently wiped his tear-streaked face and whispered, "Everything will be all right."
Elrond put his arm around his brother's shoulder and added, "She is just being cautious."
"Exactly." Nárwen kissed each boy on the forehead and smiled weakly to them before putting her finger to her lips. Then the door was closed and they were plunged into darkness.
Elrond did not know how long they sat there, squashed into that little space. He thought, after a while, that he could hear some raised male voices and Elros huddled closer to him. After a few minutes of straining to hear every sound, his stomach lurched when an almighty bang came from the front door. Elros yelped softly and began to shake. Elrond hushed him and held him more tightly; partly to comfort Elros and partly to quell his own shaking. The terrible banging continued into a metronomic rhythm, both children jumping slightly with each beat. This ended after a bone-shaking crash and the yelling started again, louder this time and the masculine voices now mingling with a lone feminine one. In only a matter of seconds, the house fell quiet again. After a brief pause, Elrond could make out someone speaking, quietly, more subdued than before. Elrond listened hard for any sign of Nárwen over the din of his own blood pulsing in his ears. What he did hear were the sound of footsteps seemingly all around him. He guessed that there were soldiers moving around upstairs as well as on the ground floor; the heaviness of the footfalls could only mean that these people were wearing armour.
The boys tensed as they heard one set of footsteps grow closer and closer, only to move back into the distance again. It was only when he let out a great sigh that Elrond realised that he had been holding his breath. After another agonizing wait, sound once again ceased. The brothers sat in the blackness for a while longer before Elrond dared to speak.
"I think they have gone," he breathed into Elros' ear.
"They could come back," whispered Elros fearfully.
"I could go and see."
"No! Nárwen said to stay here."
"She could be hurt." Elrond disentangled himself from his brother and opened the cupboard door slightly. "Just stay here, I will be back soon." He prised his younger brother's fingers off his sleeve, "Elros, let go. I will come back in no time, I promise."
Elrond crawled out of the cupboard and closed the door behind him, then took care to replace the tapestry. The light in the hallway was not much better than in the cupboard; Nárwen had evidently extinguished the lamps. That was a good thing, thought Elrond, he knew the house well and darkness made hiding easier.
He crept along the corridor towards the centre of the house, sticking close to the wall. The door at the end of the hallway had been left ajar so Elrond peered through the crack., his already keen eyesight adjusting to the gloom. He could see and hear nothing so he risked opening it and ducking through it as quickly as he could. He squatted down in the corner beside a small table and planned his next move. The door to the dining room on his right was open and he could see no-one was inside. To his left was the door to an antechamber. He decided against that, from what he had heard earlier he guessed the outer door had been broken down; he did not like the idea of opening the inner door in case the people that had done it were still outside. That left the stairs above him or the audience chamber in front of him. That was where they had been before, so he surmised that it was the best place to start in his search for Nárwen. He rose, trying to ignore the icy coldness in his spine, that melted into his legs and made his knees fill with water. Elrond tiptoed across the room, almost convinced that the thumping of his heart would give him away to any possible intruders. He made it to the door and reached out to the doorknob, the darkness causing him not to notice the large, smeared bloodstain that lead from the antechamber to the room he was about to enter.
Elrond turned the knob and froze in terror when the click seemed to echo through the whole house. He paused, stock-still but he heard no-one approaching, so he continued. He had only opened the door a crack when he noticed his hand casting a flickering shadow on the door.
"Do not go in there."
Elrond fought a wave of nausea and still gripping the doorknob, turned slowly, to see where the voice and the light were coming from. He looked up to see that the light was coming from a three-pronged candelabra being held by an armour-clad Elf standing towards the bottom of the stairs. So it seemed that Elves could move silently in armour after all. The Elf descended the last few steps and strode swiftly over to Elrond, who flinched away from the door and pressed himself against the wall. However, Elrond was surprised to see that the soldier was not going to him but the door. He forcefully closed it and then paused for a moment with a faraway look in his eyes. Those eyes then flickered back to Elrond and he smiled slightly.
"Suilad, Elrond."
Elrond frowned and did a double-take. For one wonderful instant he thought that perhaps this person was a town guard and that was why he knew his name. That hope was quickly dashed when it dawned on Elrond that he was standing before the Elf Lord that he had met earlier that day. He looked so different though. The head of hair that Elrond had so admired earlier was now dull and lank, his sharp features now seemed drawn and haggard, especially with the candles lighting his face from below.
"Maglor," breathed Elrond.
"You know my name."
"My mother told me."
Maglor knelt in front of the cowering child and placed the candelabra on the floor beside him. Elrond's stomach turned over at the cacophony of odours coming from Maglor; leather mixed with sweat, smoke mingled with the more unfamiliar yet unmistakable metallic tang of blood.
"Now listen to me, young peredhel," began Maglor as conversationally as he could manage under the circumstance, "I need your help. Is there anyone else in the house?"
Elrond hesitated for a moment then stammered, "The h-house keeper."
"Yes," Maglor gingerly adjusted a bloody rag on his left arm that served as a bandage, "I know about her."
"Where is she?" he quavered.
Now Maglor hesitated, then cocked his head towards the door he had just emphatically closed. "In there. But you do not want to see her."
The child sank to the floor, tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and rested his elbow on his knees. "Nárwen," he whimpered.
"I am sorry." Elrond considered arguing with the likelihood of the truth of Maglor's statement but thought better of it. "Anyone else?" Elrond shook his head, which was still in his hands. "Do not lie to me child."
Elrond looked up fearfully. "I do not," he said tremulously.
"I take it," Maglor pointed towards the stairs, "that the room up there on the right is yours? The one with the toys, yes?" Elrond nodded warily. "If there is no-one else here, explain to me why there is two of everything in your room. You have a brother do you not?
"He is not here," interjected Elrond.
"Where is he then?"
"Balar," replied Elrond without missing a beat.
"Well, sighed Maglor, "I do hope you are not lying to me, Elrond, because my brother will be here shortly and I am quite sure he will raze this house to the ground when he is done with it." The look of terror that invaded Elrond's face was unmistakable. "Is there something you wish to tell me, child?"
"He is here."
"Where?"
"A cupboard, behind a wall-hanging," he pointed to his left, "down the hall."
"Good boy." Maglor rose to his feet, called to one of his troops who came in from outside and pointed at the weeping half-elf. "Watch him." Maglor walked towards the door and paused in his tracks when he heard a cracking noise from beneath his feet. He bent down and picked up Roitar, his wooden longbow now in two pieces. Maglor looked at the toy wistfully for a moment, before setting it gently on the table and carrying on into the hallway.
Elrond gaped at the grisly scene before him in despair. From where he was he could now see through the open antechamber doorway and through the entrance door which was splintered off its hinges. The havens were ablaze, their streets deserted. The orange light from the sacked town was cast onto the floor, illuminating the crimson trail smeared along the floor, that bore his own footprints. Elrond's protesting stomach could take no more and he retched, turned and deposited what little he had eaten for supper in the corner.
Just then Maglor appeared with a struggling, screaming Elros in his arms; he squirmed, he kicked, he bit, but it was to no avail. Maglor deposited him on the ground after extricating himself from Elros' clamped jaws.
"That's enough from you, tithen-draug", he quipped.
"Elros," groaned Elrond, the spasms in his diaphragm subsiding. "Do not fight," he beckoned him over, "Come here." Elrond took his little brother into his arms and turned his head towards the hollow of his shoulder.
Maglor turned to the soldier he had called earlier and admonished him, "You could have closed the door, after you," he pointed to the trail of blood on the floor, "He should not have had to see that."
The soldier coolly replied, "Forgive me, My Lord, but surely they will see worse when they go outside?"
"True." Maglor rubbed the teeth-marks on his hand irritatedly and paced around the room. He picked up Roitar and examined him distractedly until he heard a voice calling to him from outside. He answered back, his voice ringing out clearly over the noise of the last vestiges of the battle still being fought. "Maedhros! In here!"
A very tall, grim faced but undeniably handsome Elf strode purposefully into the house. A copper circlet held back his flame-red hair. His face was darkened with patches of soot, as was his armour which was also spattered with crimson. Even with the grime of war on him, his aristocratic bearing ensured he was incredibly striking. The only marring of his beauty was the stump on his right arm, his hand having been lost long ago.
Maglor smiled, "You took your time."
"The twins met with more trouble than expected."
"Where are they?" Maglor peered around his brother expecting to see them appear at the doorway.
Maedhros put his hand on Maglor's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze before answering, "The Halls of Waiting."
Maglor's face fell. "What happened?"
"Later brother, we still have work to do. Save it."
Maglor swallowed hard and nodded. "I do not believe the Silmaril is here."
"It is not," replied the elder brother, "Elwing has it, we found her on the cliffs some ten minute's ride from here. My men have her surrounded.
"Why do they not just take it?" shrugged Maglor.
"She is threatening to cast the jewel into the sea. But no matter, she has something we want," he turned to face the two children huddled together on the floor, "now we have something she wants."
Baw= No, don't!
Dartho= Stay
Tithen-draug:= Little-wolf.
