I stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what had happened and why. I had been in such a position for three days, they say. I won't eat, I won't talk, I won't drink, though my throat is parched. Those things don't matter anymore, though. Nothing does.
Word of my 'condition' had been sent to Lothlórien on the day that the messenger had arrived. Arwen was to arrive in a few weeks. I wonder if I have that long...
It was strange. A great healer such as myself was lying—dying—in a bed, opposing all medical attention, sustenance, sleep... What have I come to?
Oh...
They have returned. Their faces, Their beings, have come again. Oh, how I hate this! They came...every day...and accused me. They showed me what horrible deeds I have committed through my life. And...all of it is true. I knew it. They knew it. I...am a terrible person, deserving death. And death I shall have.
They came, slowly stepping toward my bed, swirling forms of shining silver. Beautiful. Yet darkness and grey touched them as well, as they come closer to me, until they turned completely grey, no longer lovely, but tainted. Tainted by me.
I averted my eyes, trying to hide away from these beautiful creatures. I would do more, if I could. Throw myself under a blanket, run out of the room so they would not have to look upon my face...but I cannot. I had to endure this humiliating meeting time and time again. And I deserved it. I deserved to be shown how horrible I am.
"Elrond..." They whispered as one.
I do not look at Them.
"Elrond..." They whispered again, commandingly, and I had no choice but to look up.
They moved, majestically, and separated. Elros, Gil-galad, Celebrían, Elladan, Elrohir...my parents, though I knew it was impossible. They were here again. To accuse me.
"Elrond..." whispered Celebrían. She placed her head into her hands, weeping softly. "What have you done? Our sons...were we not enough? Did more have to die?"
"I...didn't mean to..." My voice sounded like stones grating against each other. Horribly weak and harsh compared to their melodious tones.
"Are you satisfied, *peredhel*?" hissed Gil-galad.
The words stung more than anything they had ever said. He...hated me for my tainted blood as well as my deeds... O, Valar, help me, though I do not deserve it.
"I...did not mean it..." I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.
"Liar!" cried Celebrían.
"Liar," declared Elros, eyes narrowing angrily, accusingly. "You meant to, Elrond. You...meant...to. And you *enjoyed* it."
"Adar..." The form of Elladan moved forward. Fire...angry red flames are in his eyes. He had always been the louder, more violent of the two... "Adar, you killed me."
"No!" I sobbed, reaching out to them. No...I had not...I...
"Yes..." hissed Elrohir, taking his place next to Elladan. Two beautiful...*wronged* children. *My* children. *My* wrongs. But I denied it. "Yes, you did. You were not there for us. Is not a father supposed to be there for his children? To love them and guide them...*away* from the enemy."
I stared up at them stunned. "I did not want you to die, ionnath," I whispered. "I did not. You chose to avenge your mother...and I could not stop you."
"So you blame *us* now?" cried Elladan. "You are forcing this on your *children*?"
I bowed my head in shame. "I..."
"You *should* be ashamed of yourself, iôn-nín," said a voice. It was the first time she had spoken. Her voice was soft, resembling more of a drifting song. It was exactly how I remembered...yet it was rebuking me now.
"Indeed. Is this my son? The great Elrond, Lord of Imladris, herald to the High King Gil-galad? Killer of family?" I didn't know how to describe his voice... It was...deep. Strange, commanding. Not melodious, yet still beautiful.
They both stood in the back. My parents. And they rebuked me.
"You are a *murderer*," growled Gil-galad.
"No...no I'm not..." Why were they being so cruel...?
"Yes, peredhel, you are."
"What do you want with me?" I cried angrily, desperation in my voice. They stared back at me calmly.
"We want you to end it," said Elros coldly.
I stared at him in shock. My own brother...!
"Yes," hissed Elrohir. "End it, Adar." My own *son*.
"For our sake," said Elladan. "If you do, we will forgive you. And you will join us and once more be happy."
Forgiveness...happiness.
I nodded slowly, sitting myself up, however painful it was, and reached out to the tray that was on a small table next to the bed. The tray had on it food that day after day Glorfindel and the healers pleaded with me to eat.
One of the soldiers had stopped by earlier with the news outside—another idiotic thing that Glorfindel had done to try to help me—and had seen the untouched food. Apples...he liked apples, the soldier had said, then proceeded to pick up the apple on the tray. He had used his dagger to peel it, a habit I didn't particularly approve of, yet I had not said anything. The soldier had been called out and had conveniently left his dagger on the tray and had not yet come back to retrieve it yet. That is what I wanted.
My fingers touched it and I pulled it into my hand. I grasped the hilt tightly and brought it toward me. Tears and pain came into my eyes as I saw the eager faces of my fallen family. But I ignored it. That would change. They would accept and love me again, if...I...just...
I turned the sharp blade to myself. To my heart that pained me so much. The light reflected off the metal as it passed the lantern. I brought it to the thin cloth of the robes. All was ready. All I needed to do was plunge the cold steel into my heart, and it would all be over. All of it would be over.
Warm blood trickled down my chest, staining my robes. I had unconsciously pressed the blade harder into my skin, successfully breaking it. I pulled the blade back slightly.
"Do it," urged Gil-galad. My sons nodded, Elros standing behind them and looking at me darkly. Celebrían stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You owe it to us, Elrond," she said softly. "We are waiting.
"We are waiting..." said my parents.
"You owe it..." said Elladan.
"...to us, Adar," finished Elrohir.
"Dearly, Elrond. Dearly," added Elros softly. His cold, dark look had not left his eyes.
I owed it to them. I had killed them and let Celebrían sail...I did not do all in my power to save them. I could have helped Celebrían better. I...*know* I could have saved them...couldn't I have? But, yes. I owed them this much. I pressed the blade against my chest once again.
And...
And Glorfindel opened the door. His mouth hung half-open, ready to say something, but no words came. We stared at each other long, time seeming to stop. I never moved my gaze from him, though I knew They had gone. They always went when someone came.
Then everything returned to normal.
"Elrond!" Glorfindel cried. In an instant the dagger was out of my hands, skittering across the floor. A hand touched the blood on the front of my robes, then drew back. Two seconds of stunned silence...and the a sharp slap rang through the room.
I raised a hand to touch my smarting cheek and took it back, looking at in in surprise. Blood from Glorfindel's fingers—*my* blood—was deep crimson on my hand.
Glorfindel was staring at his own hand, equally shocked. He lowered it after a moment and looked at me gravely. "What has come over you?" he asked, his voice higher than normal.
"They told me to do it..." I whispered, looking down at the blanket that covered my legs. "I...killed them."
"What on Arda are you talking about?" cried Glorfindel angrily. "Are you sick in the head? Do you want to die, is that it?"
"I'm *dieing*, Glorfindel!" I yelled, immediately regretting it. It hurt my chest and my throat to raise my voice to him with so much force.
"I know that!" he shouted. "I know that, Elrond! But by your own hand?" His features softened and he kneeled beside my bed, resting his head against the side. "But you cannot die," he said softly, wearily. "Your people need you. Who will rule in your stead? Surely not me..." He sighed. "But that is what will happen, isn't it? Your sons..." He stopped and looked up at me. "Your sons are gone, Elrond. There is no one left."
"It is my fault..." I whispered, barely audible for even his enhanced hearing to pick up.
"No," he said vehemently. "Do not say such things! It is not your fault, Elrond. None of it was your fault. You did not cause anyone's death."
I stared at the wall silently for a moment before saying, "I didn't? Not Elros', not Gil-galad's? No one's?"
"No one's," he confirmed. "You did not kill your sons."
I leaned back against the carved headboard. I knew what must be done. By my hand. But I was not strong enough.
I reached over for the tray and drew it to me. Ignoring Glorfindel's shocked look and my hesitant stomach, I placed it on my lap and raised the utensil laden with a dull type of meat to my lips. My appetite was no more, but I forced it down, followed by a glass of water.
Only to demand a bucket moments later.
But I will regain my strength. I will die, yes. The grief will get me, I know it. My end is near. But I will not leave until I have had my revenge.
~*~
peredhel—half-elf
ionnath—my sons
iôn-nín—my son
~*~
Thanks for your reviews. They make me smile really big :D. Only one or two more chapters left, so hang on. Also, I do not own Lord of the Rings. If I did...well, it would have turned out very different. ^_~
Word of my 'condition' had been sent to Lothlórien on the day that the messenger had arrived. Arwen was to arrive in a few weeks. I wonder if I have that long...
It was strange. A great healer such as myself was lying—dying—in a bed, opposing all medical attention, sustenance, sleep... What have I come to?
Oh...
They have returned. Their faces, Their beings, have come again. Oh, how I hate this! They came...every day...and accused me. They showed me what horrible deeds I have committed through my life. And...all of it is true. I knew it. They knew it. I...am a terrible person, deserving death. And death I shall have.
They came, slowly stepping toward my bed, swirling forms of shining silver. Beautiful. Yet darkness and grey touched them as well, as they come closer to me, until they turned completely grey, no longer lovely, but tainted. Tainted by me.
I averted my eyes, trying to hide away from these beautiful creatures. I would do more, if I could. Throw myself under a blanket, run out of the room so they would not have to look upon my face...but I cannot. I had to endure this humiliating meeting time and time again. And I deserved it. I deserved to be shown how horrible I am.
"Elrond..." They whispered as one.
I do not look at Them.
"Elrond..." They whispered again, commandingly, and I had no choice but to look up.
They moved, majestically, and separated. Elros, Gil-galad, Celebrían, Elladan, Elrohir...my parents, though I knew it was impossible. They were here again. To accuse me.
"Elrond..." whispered Celebrían. She placed her head into her hands, weeping softly. "What have you done? Our sons...were we not enough? Did more have to die?"
"I...didn't mean to..." My voice sounded like stones grating against each other. Horribly weak and harsh compared to their melodious tones.
"Are you satisfied, *peredhel*?" hissed Gil-galad.
The words stung more than anything they had ever said. He...hated me for my tainted blood as well as my deeds... O, Valar, help me, though I do not deserve it.
"I...did not mean it..." I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.
"Liar!" cried Celebrían.
"Liar," declared Elros, eyes narrowing angrily, accusingly. "You meant to, Elrond. You...meant...to. And you *enjoyed* it."
"Adar..." The form of Elladan moved forward. Fire...angry red flames are in his eyes. He had always been the louder, more violent of the two... "Adar, you killed me."
"No!" I sobbed, reaching out to them. No...I had not...I...
"Yes..." hissed Elrohir, taking his place next to Elladan. Two beautiful...*wronged* children. *My* children. *My* wrongs. But I denied it. "Yes, you did. You were not there for us. Is not a father supposed to be there for his children? To love them and guide them...*away* from the enemy."
I stared up at them stunned. "I did not want you to die, ionnath," I whispered. "I did not. You chose to avenge your mother...and I could not stop you."
"So you blame *us* now?" cried Elladan. "You are forcing this on your *children*?"
I bowed my head in shame. "I..."
"You *should* be ashamed of yourself, iôn-nín," said a voice. It was the first time she had spoken. Her voice was soft, resembling more of a drifting song. It was exactly how I remembered...yet it was rebuking me now.
"Indeed. Is this my son? The great Elrond, Lord of Imladris, herald to the High King Gil-galad? Killer of family?" I didn't know how to describe his voice... It was...deep. Strange, commanding. Not melodious, yet still beautiful.
They both stood in the back. My parents. And they rebuked me.
"You are a *murderer*," growled Gil-galad.
"No...no I'm not..." Why were they being so cruel...?
"Yes, peredhel, you are."
"What do you want with me?" I cried angrily, desperation in my voice. They stared back at me calmly.
"We want you to end it," said Elros coldly.
I stared at him in shock. My own brother...!
"Yes," hissed Elrohir. "End it, Adar." My own *son*.
"For our sake," said Elladan. "If you do, we will forgive you. And you will join us and once more be happy."
Forgiveness...happiness.
I nodded slowly, sitting myself up, however painful it was, and reached out to the tray that was on a small table next to the bed. The tray had on it food that day after day Glorfindel and the healers pleaded with me to eat.
One of the soldiers had stopped by earlier with the news outside—another idiotic thing that Glorfindel had done to try to help me—and had seen the untouched food. Apples...he liked apples, the soldier had said, then proceeded to pick up the apple on the tray. He had used his dagger to peel it, a habit I didn't particularly approve of, yet I had not said anything. The soldier had been called out and had conveniently left his dagger on the tray and had not yet come back to retrieve it yet. That is what I wanted.
My fingers touched it and I pulled it into my hand. I grasped the hilt tightly and brought it toward me. Tears and pain came into my eyes as I saw the eager faces of my fallen family. But I ignored it. That would change. They would accept and love me again, if...I...just...
I turned the sharp blade to myself. To my heart that pained me so much. The light reflected off the metal as it passed the lantern. I brought it to the thin cloth of the robes. All was ready. All I needed to do was plunge the cold steel into my heart, and it would all be over. All of it would be over.
Warm blood trickled down my chest, staining my robes. I had unconsciously pressed the blade harder into my skin, successfully breaking it. I pulled the blade back slightly.
"Do it," urged Gil-galad. My sons nodded, Elros standing behind them and looking at me darkly. Celebrían stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You owe it to us, Elrond," she said softly. "We are waiting.
"We are waiting..." said my parents.
"You owe it..." said Elladan.
"...to us, Adar," finished Elrohir.
"Dearly, Elrond. Dearly," added Elros softly. His cold, dark look had not left his eyes.
I owed it to them. I had killed them and let Celebrían sail...I did not do all in my power to save them. I could have helped Celebrían better. I...*know* I could have saved them...couldn't I have? But, yes. I owed them this much. I pressed the blade against my chest once again.
And...
And Glorfindel opened the door. His mouth hung half-open, ready to say something, but no words came. We stared at each other long, time seeming to stop. I never moved my gaze from him, though I knew They had gone. They always went when someone came.
Then everything returned to normal.
"Elrond!" Glorfindel cried. In an instant the dagger was out of my hands, skittering across the floor. A hand touched the blood on the front of my robes, then drew back. Two seconds of stunned silence...and the a sharp slap rang through the room.
I raised a hand to touch my smarting cheek and took it back, looking at in in surprise. Blood from Glorfindel's fingers—*my* blood—was deep crimson on my hand.
Glorfindel was staring at his own hand, equally shocked. He lowered it after a moment and looked at me gravely. "What has come over you?" he asked, his voice higher than normal.
"They told me to do it..." I whispered, looking down at the blanket that covered my legs. "I...killed them."
"What on Arda are you talking about?" cried Glorfindel angrily. "Are you sick in the head? Do you want to die, is that it?"
"I'm *dieing*, Glorfindel!" I yelled, immediately regretting it. It hurt my chest and my throat to raise my voice to him with so much force.
"I know that!" he shouted. "I know that, Elrond! But by your own hand?" His features softened and he kneeled beside my bed, resting his head against the side. "But you cannot die," he said softly, wearily. "Your people need you. Who will rule in your stead? Surely not me..." He sighed. "But that is what will happen, isn't it? Your sons..." He stopped and looked up at me. "Your sons are gone, Elrond. There is no one left."
"It is my fault..." I whispered, barely audible for even his enhanced hearing to pick up.
"No," he said vehemently. "Do not say such things! It is not your fault, Elrond. None of it was your fault. You did not cause anyone's death."
I stared at the wall silently for a moment before saying, "I didn't? Not Elros', not Gil-galad's? No one's?"
"No one's," he confirmed. "You did not kill your sons."
I leaned back against the carved headboard. I knew what must be done. By my hand. But I was not strong enough.
I reached over for the tray and drew it to me. Ignoring Glorfindel's shocked look and my hesitant stomach, I placed it on my lap and raised the utensil laden with a dull type of meat to my lips. My appetite was no more, but I forced it down, followed by a glass of water.
Only to demand a bucket moments later.
But I will regain my strength. I will die, yes. The grief will get me, I know it. My end is near. But I will not leave until I have had my revenge.
~*~
peredhel—half-elf
ionnath—my sons
iôn-nín—my son
~*~
Thanks for your reviews. They make me smile really big :D. Only one or two more chapters left, so hang on. Also, I do not own Lord of the Rings. If I did...well, it would have turned out very different. ^_~
