Hate unleashed
„Through bitterness and sorrow
the father and the son
they´re gone.
The sun shines bright
and anger rises
Lorn and lonely
torn apart.
Don't you think
it´s time to stop now
We were charmed and fooled
by the old serpent's kiss."
"Battlefield" by "Blind Guardian"
I.
There are these days, from which men later will say that it would have been better had they never dawned. "Black days" they will be called then, and their mere mention will fill the hearts of the listeners with something that is described best as "awesome horror". The most dreadful "black days" are those which suddenly, and unexpectedly, befall a people, bringing forth chaos, death and destruction; thus imprinting themselves ineffaceable in the memory of those who lived to see them.
The elves do not know "black days". Maybe they have seen too many of these, in time periods in which generations of men grow up and die away, to name them. Or else their remembrance is outweighed by the memories of good and noble things the wheel of time brings about; as sure as the spring sun finally spirits away the last shadows of winter.
Until one day, a day will dawn that will teach even the elves the meaning of a black day. A day like this, when the Rivendell elves – under the leadership of Elrond – set out to prevent an attack of the wood elves fraught with hate, in full armour. A day like this, when hordes of orcs were gathering near the very heart of Rivendell, eager to pitch into the elves on their part. The differences between wood- and Rivendell elves was of little meaning to them. They all were prey.
II.
The rising sun mercilessly pushed away the long shadows and the sporadically, fast dissolving frazzles of mist from the previous night. Every spot it fell on was coloured with exactly the shade of red that can be observed only on misty spring mornings.
Elrond surveyed the light-flooded Rivendell, as if seeing it for the first time, almost searchingly; like someone who has lost his way, trying to memorise every detail, and then, with a shudder, he ran his hand over his forehead, just as someone arousing would do, while his heart tightened in his chest in a strange mixture of grief and melancholy.
III.
It was not only the sun which coloured reddish spots on Saruman´s face, for the wizard was glowing from the inside, in ill-natured anticipation and gloating triumph, even in his eyes there was a strange light.
"There you ride, Elrond, king of all Rivendell-elves, fool that you are." he thought; or maybe even whispered it, for his lips were moving silently, murmuring, but his words were lost in the occasional snorting of a horse, or the clangour from metal on metal.
"Gandalf was not able to offer you a satisfying piece of advise, was he? Or did you finally come to the conclusion that the wood elves indeed are dangerous, on your own accord?
It has been so easy to influence you this time, easier than it was ever before, for you had started to put up resistance, with a strength I didn't expect in you, half elf, and it took me quite some time to break it again, your resistance. It´s been so easy… letting this new plan maturate in your brain, desperate as you were… to to go to meet the gathering wood elves – with warriors fully armed, and mounted! Not to attack them, oh no, but to intimidate them with your overwhelming majority, to force them to retreat in peace; in order to spare their life. Four hundred warriors against a handful barbarians from the woods! Forsooth a majority; seen in this light, but a majority only until my orcs will attack. A fool you are, Elrond, if you still believe you´ll be able to intimidate the wood elves! Do you still misconceive their desperation in such a way? Don´t you see that they will judge your appearance in front of their camp as a last, open aggression in a long row of hidden, underhanded deeds? With your deployment Elrond, you´ll drive them to war as surely as my orcs will overrun you, on my sign; and you´ll facilitate their task, by provoking a massacre between your elves and the wood elves, until the red of your blood on Rivendell´s ground will compete with the red glowing of the sun."
Saruman reined in his horse as the wood elves' camp finally came into his range of vision, thus letting pass one mounted elf warrior after another, and all the time his stinging glare was ceaselessly directed at Elrond´s back.
He, Saruman, was not absolutely keen on being in the front line in a battle between elves… Even more so when Gandalf obviously had not considered it necessary to ride at Elrond´s side, judged by the fact that he was nowhere to be seen…
The ring, however, was as good as certain to him. He only had to memorise the place where Elrond would fall – or surrender to the orcs, if they had brains enough to recognise a precious hostage. The king's ring; and with it the dominance over all elves, soon would fall into his lap, like an overripe fruit falling from a tree.
The well-known greed, more untameable than ever now, flared up in him and a thin thread of spittle appeared in the left corner of his mouth.
He could feel it in the air. Any second now the first elves would sink to the ground mortally wounded, foolish astonishment frozen on their flawless, now numbed faces, and a hail of wood elves´ arrows would darken the sky. The black day of the elves had come.
IV.
Elrond, whose heavy armour weighed easily, compared to the burden of responsibility pressing down on him, longed to see the faces of the warriors around him. Did they feel how he felt? Their helms were blocking his sight efficiently, though. It was not necessary to turn his head, to see what they thought, anyway, for he could feel it. They radiated it, fear, insecurity of what might follow, and resignation; but also anger, and hate so intense it took Elrond´s breath away, and he drew in breath in short, almost painful gasps. From the corner of his eyes he discovered the first wood elf warriors; hidden in the trees around them, most likely guardians; and they were like black, intangible, voluble shadows, threatening, demonical shadows, their bows tense and arisen.
Then Elrond got a glimpse at one of these shadows, only fleetingly, but it was enough to recognise the hate on his face. No, Elrond didn´t have to turn his head to see how his warriors felt. He was sure their faces mirrored the ones of the wood elves.
The glimpse at the wood elf entailed a moment of non-attention from his side, maybe a comprehensible non-attention, but a perilous one, for in this very moment a wood elf´s arrow missed his left temple only by an inch, and it was followed by some other wood elves´ arrows.
Beside him an elf groaned, as if in pain, but Elrond did not have the time to take care of this, for it was this very moment the orcs chose to debouch from the wood; incapable of controlling their lust for blood any longer, like a hunting pack too sure of their prey, a dark, irresistible, baneful flood. Some of them emitted a growl, arising deep in their throats. Dissonant and threatening, the sounds were echoed by the trees, multiplied and fell down on the elves, piercing their eardrums, like the claws of a hawk did with its prey. It was painful, paralysing like a rain of ice, and paralysed they were, the elves, through the mere sight of their archenemies, or through their blood curling cries, it was difficult to tell, but they stood motionless. Motionless like their leader. Elrond sat, highly erected, a tall, proud, but lonely figure, on his horse. Something akin to a smile was on his lips, desperate and cruel at the same time, devoid of every gaiety, while he held his gaze directed on the black flood of the attacking enemy. Then he slowly lifted his right hand; and then time stood still.
To be continued…
Author's note: This chapter is unusually short, I admit, but I just couldn't resist the open ending… Anyway, comments on this are more than welcome!!!
To Elise: Thanks again for beta-reading (and such a fast one)! It's very nice to re-read my writings and erase all the small things I've gotten wrong. If you go on like this I'll send you my biology diploma thesis to correct… (Now, that was a joke, of course. You would be bored silly!)
To SpaceVixenx: I'm truly happy I can count on your reviews, so there will be at least one after each chapter (Everyone who has read thus far and left no review: You know what you have to do, don't you? J) Never mind the homework: **** happens. I think it's worse to write fanfiction instead of working… which I actually do!
To Morloth: You're also counting to the circle of "people constantly reviewing", and it's members are very dear to me J !
To Zat: Well, about updating soon – sorry for the delay. It always takes me quite some time to arrange the new chapters in my head – not to speak of the translations… but I think the story will be finished in about half a year or so… J
To Tapetum lucidum: I'm sure most of us authors like to "torture" the poor Tolkien characters in one way or another, and I'm no exception. That's why Sam, Arwen and Aragorn are staying in the woods another chapter J! And I think I'll adopt Mardin for my next story, which will be started in distant future. (But I have the title yet: "Of kings and strongholds")
