FIVE - Playing the Hero
Celebmundoiel checked the tension on her bowstring before slinging it and her quiver over her shoulder. "Sorry, Elenna," she whispered in the darkness. "But I just can't wait any longer. I have to save Lord Elrond. You'll thank me when we get back." And silently she slipped out of Rivendell's grounds and into the surrounding forests.
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Amanaduial Tuarcuar crouched in the branches of an oak tree, watching the orc camp from afar. Her elven vision allowed her to see the inner workings of the camp, and her witch's memory recorded everything she saw. Finally, she slid down the tree's trunk, running lightly through the forest toward Rivendell. She wished she could afford the noise her chanting would cause, so that she could use the transport spell, but she didn't know where the yrch might walk, or how well they could hear her.
About a mile from her tree, Aman stopped to use her transport spell. "Bela ed'." But her speech was cut off by the feeling of an extremely sharp dagger pressed against her throat.
"Don't move, witch," a voice said, but it was not the growl of an orc. It was high, musical, and thoroughly angry.
"I think, my dear Celebmundoiel," Aman said, wincing as the dagger point nicked the soft skin of her neck, "that neither Elenna, nor Elrond, nor any other elf, would thank you for killing the most powerful sorceress that the Rivendell army has." Aman's droll tone enraged Celeb even more.
"What are you doing here? Orchestrating some betrayal?"
"Scouting. Elenna wishes to know the orc army's numbers, so I came to get them for her. And what of you? Why are you here?"
Celeb released her hold on Aman, but did not sheathe her dagger. "I am here to rescue Elrond. I will not sit and wait, afraid, like Elenna. He could be dead right now!"
Aman smiled, amused. "You are a fool, Celebmundoiel of Lorien. But what do I care? You will soon be a dead fool. The yrch number twenty-thousand. Rescue Elrond? Trying that will kill him faster than if you stabbed him yourself. But good luck." The sorceress turned to go, but Celeb grabbed her arm and spun her around.
"I do not trust you, witch. You and your magics are pure deceit. Fawning up to Elenna, magicking yourself off the roof. That is BLACK magic."
Aman fingered the hilt of her dirk, but didn't draw. "I have no quarrel with you, Celebmundoiel. You may be a fool, but I respect your aunt Galadriel. Go ahead. Go to the camp. I care not."
And with that, Aman turned on her heel and ran towards the ford of the Bruinen.
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The orcs cleared away from Elrond as soon as they caught sight of Thrakatburz approaching. They had been prodding the elf lord with the points of their swords, whispering to him what they would do to him later. But none dared interfere with Thrakatburz's plan for the unfortunate elf. She could, and would, put them to death in an instant if they got in her way. Fortunately, she was far too focused on her task to be irritated by a band of snaga.
"So, Elrond Halfelven," she said seductively, her voice as smooth as cream and as poisonous as nightshade. "You think you can hide the Ring of Air from me? I promise to give you a clean death if you tell me where it is. Now."
Elrond glared up at the elf woman, his eyes full of consternation. Thrakatburz felt almost ashamed, a feeling she hadn't had for centuries. She wished that she were wearing something besides an extremely low-cut black dress, shot through with red. Before the elf lord's stare, she felt like a child caught in a fib.
But she regained composure instantly. "Don't worry, my lord," she said, mockingly. "You'll soon tell me everything I want to know. More than that, actually. You'll tell me everything I need, and then you'll tell me much that I don't need, and many things that don't interest me at all, just to stop the pain.
When Elrond's face didn't shift, Thrakatburz smiled predatorily. "I'm glad you've chosen this way. It is much more fun."
She laughed, a high, cold sound, and the guards flinched. Then the woman stood and kicked Elrond viciously, causing him to double up with a cry.
"Carry him to my tent!" she ordered, smiling to herself. Thrakatburz would know where the Ring of Air was hidden before the dawn, and Sauron would reward her greatly.
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The archers watched in interest as Keldin counted out arrows, laying them in the warriors' arms as if they were made of most fragile crystal. Which, to be honest, they were. If the glass shatterstar should break now, the arrows wouldn't be worth anything.
"Be careful with these. Use them sparingly, and try to reuse," the massive elf said in a booming voice that echoed and reverberated around the walls of his workshop.
Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he gasped in pain, bringing a hand up to cover his scar. It seared white-hot and he winced as the pain ricocheted down the right side of his body. "By Elbereth," he whispered.
The nearest warrior caught Keldin as he fell to his knees. "What is wrong, sir?" he asked, trying to steady the shaking elf.
"I.I don't know, son. But hurry and count these out, or Elenna will have my head," Keldin whispered, finding it hard to catch his breath. It felt as if someone had stuck a fiery knife in his back, and another in his cheek. "Thirty-six each," he ordered, pulling back his hand from the old, knotted scar. Then he gasped. Keldin's fingers were covered with thick red blood. It ran down his face and onto his tunic, like it had so many years before. "Oh, Elbereth," he whispered, staring in horror at the blood on his fingers, panic tearing through years of careful self-discipline. "I thought I killed her."
Then he slid into the deep, cool well of unconsciousness.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Elenna sat on a chair beside Keldin's bed. The fletcher lay beneath several blankets, unconscious still. His face had been bandaged and the flow of blood staunched, but that didn't ease Elenna's mind. What could have brought this on? She had known Keldin since she was a child, and he had always had such a scar. It was no recent wound not fully healed. The wounded elf began to toss and turn, muttering the word "Thrakatburz" over and over. Elenna knew not what that meant, and judging by the tears that ran down Keldin's cheeks, she did not wish to find out. She bathed Keldin's brow with a cool cloth, whispering soothingly to him. Suddenly she heard a rustling behind her and turned around.
"How is Keldin, El?" Glorfindel asked.
"He will live. He's tougher than that, just to die from a little blood." Elenna laughed slightly. "And if he knew that you were worried, you would never live it down. How is the army?"
"I bring news. Celebmundoiel and Aman are both missing."
"What? Where did they go?"
"Our scouts spotted Celebmundoiel heading towards the orc camp. Aman as well."
"Do they not understand anything? This isn't the time to play the hero! If they go there, they'll be killed. And if our army loses just one warrior, we could fail. We could fail anyway! Our only advantage is our unity!"
"All right, all right! Don't shout at me anymore, my lady Commander!" Glorfindel kissed Elenna's forehead.
"Playing the hero? I hope that isn't what you think I was doing," Amanaduial said, mock-indignantly as she swung in from the open window. Elenna jumped nearly six inches in her seat, her hand grabbing her sword hilt. Glorfindel merely laughed, remembering the long-ago time when a red- haired elf child ran her guardian ragged with her climbing antics.
"Aman, friend, I am glad that you are here again." Glorfindel's rich voice broke off at the sight of Aman's face. "Is something wrong?"
The red-haired witch was staring at Keldin. She looked as though she had just remembered something, something that she would much prefer to have remained forgotten. Elenna watched her friend, worried. They were only one year apart in age, and had grown up together, but this was the first time that Amanaduial Tuarcuar had ever looked truly terrified.
"What.what happened to him?" Aman asked.
"Just a flesh wound," Elenna tried to reassure her. "Something old."
"Where?" Aman's sharp voice cut like a knife.
"On his - "
"Throat." The last word was whispered. Aman crouched beside Keldin, her hand over the bandage that covered his injury. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, concentrating.
"By the Valar." Aman said, her voice tight in fear. "She has returned. I thought she was dead long ago. He killed her." The witch was shaking, and her words were more to herself than to Elenna and Glorfindel. Suddenly she shook her head and faced the two elves, as if she had only just become aware of them. Her eyes held the wide, haunted look of a small bird when a hawk flies over.
"Thrakatburz!" she cried before crashing to the ground in a dead faint.
Celebmundoiel checked the tension on her bowstring before slinging it and her quiver over her shoulder. "Sorry, Elenna," she whispered in the darkness. "But I just can't wait any longer. I have to save Lord Elrond. You'll thank me when we get back." And silently she slipped out of Rivendell's grounds and into the surrounding forests.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Amanaduial Tuarcuar crouched in the branches of an oak tree, watching the orc camp from afar. Her elven vision allowed her to see the inner workings of the camp, and her witch's memory recorded everything she saw. Finally, she slid down the tree's trunk, running lightly through the forest toward Rivendell. She wished she could afford the noise her chanting would cause, so that she could use the transport spell, but she didn't know where the yrch might walk, or how well they could hear her.
About a mile from her tree, Aman stopped to use her transport spell. "Bela ed'." But her speech was cut off by the feeling of an extremely sharp dagger pressed against her throat.
"Don't move, witch," a voice said, but it was not the growl of an orc. It was high, musical, and thoroughly angry.
"I think, my dear Celebmundoiel," Aman said, wincing as the dagger point nicked the soft skin of her neck, "that neither Elenna, nor Elrond, nor any other elf, would thank you for killing the most powerful sorceress that the Rivendell army has." Aman's droll tone enraged Celeb even more.
"What are you doing here? Orchestrating some betrayal?"
"Scouting. Elenna wishes to know the orc army's numbers, so I came to get them for her. And what of you? Why are you here?"
Celeb released her hold on Aman, but did not sheathe her dagger. "I am here to rescue Elrond. I will not sit and wait, afraid, like Elenna. He could be dead right now!"
Aman smiled, amused. "You are a fool, Celebmundoiel of Lorien. But what do I care? You will soon be a dead fool. The yrch number twenty-thousand. Rescue Elrond? Trying that will kill him faster than if you stabbed him yourself. But good luck." The sorceress turned to go, but Celeb grabbed her arm and spun her around.
"I do not trust you, witch. You and your magics are pure deceit. Fawning up to Elenna, magicking yourself off the roof. That is BLACK magic."
Aman fingered the hilt of her dirk, but didn't draw. "I have no quarrel with you, Celebmundoiel. You may be a fool, but I respect your aunt Galadriel. Go ahead. Go to the camp. I care not."
And with that, Aman turned on her heel and ran towards the ford of the Bruinen.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The orcs cleared away from Elrond as soon as they caught sight of Thrakatburz approaching. They had been prodding the elf lord with the points of their swords, whispering to him what they would do to him later. But none dared interfere with Thrakatburz's plan for the unfortunate elf. She could, and would, put them to death in an instant if they got in her way. Fortunately, she was far too focused on her task to be irritated by a band of snaga.
"So, Elrond Halfelven," she said seductively, her voice as smooth as cream and as poisonous as nightshade. "You think you can hide the Ring of Air from me? I promise to give you a clean death if you tell me where it is. Now."
Elrond glared up at the elf woman, his eyes full of consternation. Thrakatburz felt almost ashamed, a feeling she hadn't had for centuries. She wished that she were wearing something besides an extremely low-cut black dress, shot through with red. Before the elf lord's stare, she felt like a child caught in a fib.
But she regained composure instantly. "Don't worry, my lord," she said, mockingly. "You'll soon tell me everything I want to know. More than that, actually. You'll tell me everything I need, and then you'll tell me much that I don't need, and many things that don't interest me at all, just to stop the pain.
When Elrond's face didn't shift, Thrakatburz smiled predatorily. "I'm glad you've chosen this way. It is much more fun."
She laughed, a high, cold sound, and the guards flinched. Then the woman stood and kicked Elrond viciously, causing him to double up with a cry.
"Carry him to my tent!" she ordered, smiling to herself. Thrakatburz would know where the Ring of Air was hidden before the dawn, and Sauron would reward her greatly.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The archers watched in interest as Keldin counted out arrows, laying them in the warriors' arms as if they were made of most fragile crystal. Which, to be honest, they were. If the glass shatterstar should break now, the arrows wouldn't be worth anything.
"Be careful with these. Use them sparingly, and try to reuse," the massive elf said in a booming voice that echoed and reverberated around the walls of his workshop.
Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he gasped in pain, bringing a hand up to cover his scar. It seared white-hot and he winced as the pain ricocheted down the right side of his body. "By Elbereth," he whispered.
The nearest warrior caught Keldin as he fell to his knees. "What is wrong, sir?" he asked, trying to steady the shaking elf.
"I.I don't know, son. But hurry and count these out, or Elenna will have my head," Keldin whispered, finding it hard to catch his breath. It felt as if someone had stuck a fiery knife in his back, and another in his cheek. "Thirty-six each," he ordered, pulling back his hand from the old, knotted scar. Then he gasped. Keldin's fingers were covered with thick red blood. It ran down his face and onto his tunic, like it had so many years before. "Oh, Elbereth," he whispered, staring in horror at the blood on his fingers, panic tearing through years of careful self-discipline. "I thought I killed her."
Then he slid into the deep, cool well of unconsciousness.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Elenna sat on a chair beside Keldin's bed. The fletcher lay beneath several blankets, unconscious still. His face had been bandaged and the flow of blood staunched, but that didn't ease Elenna's mind. What could have brought this on? She had known Keldin since she was a child, and he had always had such a scar. It was no recent wound not fully healed. The wounded elf began to toss and turn, muttering the word "Thrakatburz" over and over. Elenna knew not what that meant, and judging by the tears that ran down Keldin's cheeks, she did not wish to find out. She bathed Keldin's brow with a cool cloth, whispering soothingly to him. Suddenly she heard a rustling behind her and turned around.
"How is Keldin, El?" Glorfindel asked.
"He will live. He's tougher than that, just to die from a little blood." Elenna laughed slightly. "And if he knew that you were worried, you would never live it down. How is the army?"
"I bring news. Celebmundoiel and Aman are both missing."
"What? Where did they go?"
"Our scouts spotted Celebmundoiel heading towards the orc camp. Aman as well."
"Do they not understand anything? This isn't the time to play the hero! If they go there, they'll be killed. And if our army loses just one warrior, we could fail. We could fail anyway! Our only advantage is our unity!"
"All right, all right! Don't shout at me anymore, my lady Commander!" Glorfindel kissed Elenna's forehead.
"Playing the hero? I hope that isn't what you think I was doing," Amanaduial said, mock-indignantly as she swung in from the open window. Elenna jumped nearly six inches in her seat, her hand grabbing her sword hilt. Glorfindel merely laughed, remembering the long-ago time when a red- haired elf child ran her guardian ragged with her climbing antics.
"Aman, friend, I am glad that you are here again." Glorfindel's rich voice broke off at the sight of Aman's face. "Is something wrong?"
The red-haired witch was staring at Keldin. She looked as though she had just remembered something, something that she would much prefer to have remained forgotten. Elenna watched her friend, worried. They were only one year apart in age, and had grown up together, but this was the first time that Amanaduial Tuarcuar had ever looked truly terrified.
"What.what happened to him?" Aman asked.
"Just a flesh wound," Elenna tried to reassure her. "Something old."
"Where?" Aman's sharp voice cut like a knife.
"On his - "
"Throat." The last word was whispered. Aman crouched beside Keldin, her hand over the bandage that covered his injury. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, concentrating.
"By the Valar." Aman said, her voice tight in fear. "She has returned. I thought she was dead long ago. He killed her." The witch was shaking, and her words were more to herself than to Elenna and Glorfindel. Suddenly she shook her head and faced the two elves, as if she had only just become aware of them. Her eyes held the wide, haunted look of a small bird when a hawk flies over.
"Thrakatburz!" she cried before crashing to the ground in a dead faint.