Disclaimer: Check chappie one. . . do I really have to keep typing this on
every single chapter???
Reviews:
theparanoidone: Heh, only if you ask nicely. :D
silverdust: Yay . . . I mean damn. LoL "Cause of death, story-update tension"
Elfaer: I'm glad your still stickig to it. :D
Nelinde: I know, I loved that bit too. I was like "awe" as I was writting it. AWE.
The beasts before her did not fear her words, one of the Balrogs even snapped it's whip at her, drawing a small trickle of blood down her cheek. She looked emotionlessly at the beast and her blood flowed golden down her cheek.
"This is Iluvatars own blade, crafted by his hand when he first walked this land. This is Airehyanda. This is your last chance, bow down or die."
The Sauraulca gave a loud roar, smoke billowing from it's mouth, for indeed it was truly related to a dragon. The Vilsks hissed loudly, trying to take over her mind, but her will was much too strong. The Moroks gnashed their teeth together preparing to rip her to shreds. The Balrog's snapped their whips, daring her to come down.
"Iluvatar!" She cried and leapt down from the wall, Airehyanda sank deep into the chest of the nearest Balrog, the one who had whipped her, and tore the beast open as the forces of gravity pulled her towards the ground. She pulled her blade out, unafraid of the beasts before her. The next closest demon to her was a Vilsk, it's fangs dripping with venom.
"Rucin unquale." (Feel agony)She said darkly as she sliced open the skin beneath the snakes chin. She rolled out of the way as the beasts venom poured out of the wound, scorching the earth beneath. It cried out in pain, a horrible high-pitched hiss, very painful on Honora's sensitive Elven ears.
She turned from the dying Vilsk and faced the Sauraulca who had stepped forward. "Aina ramba." She whispered in a spell moments before the giant lizard let loose a giant stream of flame. She felt no heat as the fire passed by her, the magical walls around her reflecting or absorbing the heat.
She charged forward, sinking Airehyanda deep into the beasts stomach. She pulled it free and looked up, the beasts red eyes loomed closer to her, glaring at her for causing what little pain the wound had caused it. It's skin was think and it's nerves unsensitive so as that it would not feel pain. She glared back but as their battle of will was passing, a Morok swiped it's paw against her, ripping the flesh on her back and tossing her almost five fathoms away, right into the coils of one of the Vilsks bodies.
She jumped up and, with as much strength she could put into it, sliced the head off the the great snake. It's body went limp, falling to the ground with a thud. She wiped her blade off on her cloak, glaring at the giant Morok lumbering towards her, teeth gnashing the whole way.
She slid off the carcass of the Vilsk and ran towards the giant bear. She dodged it's swiping claws and leapt up onto the beast knee then back. The Morok shook angrily, it's claws tearing it's own skin as it tried to remove her. Eventually the beast collapsed, tired from it's own efforts. Moroks were fierce, but grew tired easily. Honora sank her sword into the back of the beasts neck.
She stood behind it's carcass, catching her breath from her exertion. There were still many beasts to kill. She looked down at her arms, the were completely coated with the golden liquid that was her blood, it had taken magic to make her blood look red when she had cut herself in the forests of Ithilien. (She had not wished to reveal herself to Legolas at that time)
She smirked and held out her arms, watching the blood pool into a drip about to fall underneath her elbow. As it fell, though, another Morok crawled over the corpse of it's comrade and knocked her several feet away. She landed on her back and she felt the bone in her right arm snap. She cried out in pain and the Morok lumbered closer, it's teeth gnashing, the same as the last, as it came towards her helpless form.
"Angamando uru tuilindo nya cotumo!" She cried, the words of the spell flowing from her lips as she struggled to get away before the beast fell.
The Morok stopped, cocked it head to the side, then burst into flames. It gave a loud roar as the last of it's life force was taken from it and it fell to the ground mere inches away from Honora's prone form. She lay back, staring up to the slowly lightening sky. She smiled when she saw hundreds of white dots coming down from the sky. The army of the heavens.
The Valar flew down in legions on their swift wings, golden swords gleaming in bright contrast against their pale skin and hair and white robes. Their faces fierce at the spilling of their Lady's blood, but still more beautiful than any Elf could be. She turned her head towards the forest and was graced with the sight of the Varya walking out of the woods, chanting the holy spells of above. They stood taller than any man, at ten feet tall, their face and hair was as pale as that of the Valar, but they were not as gentle and beautiful, due to ages of training and tests to acquire the most powerful spells.
The demons cried out at the holy attack against them. The Valar charged the beasts, their swords blazing as they spilled the unholy blood of the demons. The Varya continued to chant, some wore pendants around their necks, in which the gems glowed brilliant in the color of the stone, aiding them in their spells. The demons merely stopped and fell over dead once they were under the spells of the Varya.
She sighed thankfully, her father, at least, had not taken away her armies. She struggled to her feet, holding her injured arm close to her chest so as not to cause it any more pain. She didn't know where to go though, she couldn't go back into the city, not while her armies were still fighting. There was nothing left to do but to continue to fight. She staggered over to the Varya and fell into the arms of one of the closest.
"Heal my arm. Please." She begged, Airehyanda was held loosely in her left hand.
The Varya nodded and gently pulled her injured arm away from her body, firmly holding it out straight at her side, then he began to chant. Honora winced in pain as the bones were melded together again. The Varya let her go and she stumbled for a moment beofre steadying herself on her feet. She transfered Airehyanda back to her right hand and tested her arm for strength. It was strong. She gratefully gave her thanks to the Varya that had saved her and ran back into battle.
She jumped on the back of a Morok and sank Airehyanda into the back of it's neck. It cried out and fell forward. She flew off it's back, rolling across the rough ground. Her hand let go of Airehyanda as she toppled and landed many feet away from her as she lay on her back once more on the battle fields. She looked around and saw the holy sword, laying in the filth of the battlefield, covered in the black blood of the demons around her.
"Lady!" She heard one of the Valar cry from above. She looked over to she the body of the Sauraulca falling towards her. She had no time to move as the giant body fell over her. She moaned as the weight of the beasts thick neck landed on her. She felt the bones of her rib cage crack under the tremendous weight and her breath would not come as easily. She was trapped now, and dying.
Her brow furrowed at a vibration she felt regularly for the next few moments. She looked around and was disgusted to find that the Sauraulca was still living. She looked again to her right, Airehyanda lay in the mud, much out of her reach. She took a deep breath, gathering all that was left of her strength as she reached over her shoulders and pulled her brother's blades from their sheaths.
"My fate." She whispered. She closed her eyes and saw the loving face of Legolas behind her lids. Then her eyes snapped open and she drove both blades into the beasts neck. The vibrations stopped then and the demons syrupy black blood oozed out onto her, falling across the silver and emerald pendant hanging from her neck. She had meant to give it to Legolas, though now, she thought, she would not have the chance. She closed her eyes and relaxed, letting darkness claim her.
Legolas finally jerked free of Aragorn and Eomer's restraints and ran as fast as he could to the gate. "Open the gate! Open the gate!" He cried as he neared the gate.
At the look in his eyes, the gate was opened, none wanting to be victim of his wrath. He ran past the gate and looked out at the devastation of the battle before him. He scanned the area for his beloved but he could not see her green cloak anywhere in blurs of black and green and so much white.
As she sun rose higher though, it glinted off of something laying in the mud ten fathoms away. He ran to it, just barely missing the swiping claws of one of the giant bears. It was what he had feared, Honora's white blade. He looked around, fearing what he knew he would find. He body would be somewhere around here. He scanned the ground until he eventually found her, the only thing giving her presence away was a pale hand sticking out of the mud. He ran over to her and was shocked to find it wasn't mud at all, but the blood of the beast on top of her.
"Honora. . ." He whispered in shock, dropping to his knees beside her body, lifting her pale hand to his lips. "Melda." Tears came to his eyes and ran, unchecked, down his cheeks. He gently lifted her head into his knees and continued to weep. "Save her, Iluvatar! Spare your daughter from this!" He begged.
It seemed an eternity before finally the sounds of battle around him faded to silence. A golden blade was pressed to his throat, he looked up without fear at the being before him. A Vala, a Guardian of the People, stood above him glaring.
"Rya serce na or lya ma." (Her blood is on your hands) It said darkly in elvish. Legolas looked down and saw that truly there was her blood on his hands, running sticky and golden between his fingers.
Legolas looked back into the Vala's eyes. "Ta na nya nyere" (It is my fault) He whispered.
The Vala turned and spoke quickly to another of the Vala in a tongue Legolas did not understand. The second Vala nodded and soon there were twenty or more Valar lifting the carcass of the giant beast off of Honora's body. Legolas, to the dismay of the Valar around him, scooped up Honora's body into his arms and hugged her tightly to him.
"Ma ho i Heri!" (Hands off the Lady) The Vala that had held his sword to Legolas snapped and took Honora from him arms. "Bring him! Her father would like word with him." He said in the common tongue to another Vala.
Legolas was roughly hauled into the Vala's arms and then the army of the heavens departed once more. Legolas looked to the city below, constantly growing smaller and smaller and time passed. When at last he could stand that no more, he looked over to the Vala that carried Honora, and stared at her pale face, blood still oozed from the wound on her cheek.
It seemed that for hours they traveled upwards and eventually it began very hard for him to breath. The air was thinner and less nourishing, making his head swim and his breathing come in short gasps.
"Sleep, Elf. I would not have you dead before the Lords decision." The Vala carrying him said harshly. The Valar, unlike how legends portrayed them, were a fierce and loyal people. They were created to protect the chosen ones of Iluvatar. These Valar were obviously fiercely loyal to Honora.
Legolas nodded and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall into reverie. As she slept, he was haunted by dreams of grief. He kept seeing the body of Honora, broken and bloodied, lying in the black blood of the giant lizard.
Legolas woke when he was thrown onto the floor. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked several times. The land around him was completely white, as though there was no end to it. His eyes fell now on Iluvatar, a dwarvish battleaxe rest in his hands.
"You did not heed my warnings, Prince." Iluvatar said unemotionally.
"Your daughter is dying and all you can think to say is of how I did not heed your warning?" Legolas exclaimed as he got to his feet.
"She is dying because of you." The god replied.
"And do you have no care of her? Why are you not with her? As her last comfort?" Legolas demanded.
"And you still feel it your duty to tell me my place?" Iluvatar asked angrily. "Do you feel no guilt in what harm you have caused?"
Legolas held his tongue at this comment. Yes, indeed, he felt guilt. More guilt than the god would ever be able to comprehend for the rest of his ruling. It pained him, was how much guilt he felt, it physically pained him. Yet he would not let this being know that. He refused to show more weakness to Iluvatar than he already had.
"You have nothing to say to this? I am not with her because she has already passed. Does that ease your anger, Legolas of Mirkwood?" The deity asked.
"Already passed?" Legolas asked in shock, falling to his knees."This cannot be . . . not yet."
"Why do you think she came to you, Legolas? She didn't come to say 'I love you', she came to say goodbye." Iluvatar said spitefully.
A figure of serene white came into the room, long flowing platinum hair hung down her back and the ribbons of her slender white dress flapped out behind her as she moved. Her pale face was contrasted by the violet color of her eyes and the pale pink of her lips.
"Rise, Prince. You must not despair." She said gently and offered her hand to Legolas.
"Melwa! Why are you here?" Iluvatar yelled.
"She is my daughter too, and you may not trust this Elf, but I do. He is my chosen." The woman said gently, the sound of her voice like music more beautiful than any that could be created in the lands below. "I trust to love."
Legolas hesitantly took the proffered hand and rose to his feet. He could see the rage on Iluvatars face, hating that things would not go his way, that his axe would go unbloodied.
The woman, Melwa, as Iluvatar had called her, steadily guided him away from The Creator, and it was then that Legolas noticed, that this was not a landscape of endless white, but truly walls, colored flawlessly so as to not see the seams.
Legolas was led through the halls, not knowing where he was being led or who this woman as his side was. She was beautiful, Legolas admitted, but yet she seemed surreal. He realized now where Honora had gotten her beauty from, yet Honora's beauty was more real, he figured from living in Middle- Earth for so long, as he doubted Melwa had.
Finally she stopped, but he still could see nothing other than the white around him. Melwa made a motion like opening a door, although Legolas could not see it, and he saw Honora lying on a bed with three of the Varya standing over her chanting and bandaging her and putting on foul smelling salves and pouring gooey liquids past her lips.
"Honora. . ." He whispered at the sight of her.
One of the Varya looked up to the door. "My Lady, she is not well. She will need a willing life force if she is to survive." He said, looking straight at Legolas.
"Now is your chance to prove your love for my daughter." Melwa said, giving the Varya a secret look. Iluvatar entered the room, obviously over his tantrum.
"My life force. . ." He whispered, kneeling beside her and taking her hand. "It's hers."
He did not see the smile exchanged between the Varya that had spoken and Melwa. Indeed, they were both pleased that Honora had chosen such a loving and selfless person. The Varya nodded and led him to a special chair in the corner. Legolas sat down on his own, then noticed the leather straps on the arms and legs of the chair. He looked back to Melwa as the Varya tied the straps tight. He caught sight of Iluvatar smiling darkly at his position.
"Don't worry, it will hurt." He said mockingly, but received a stern look from Melwa. He smiled cruelly and watched the procedures he knew well.
Once Legolas' wrists and ankles were bound to the chair the Varya took a pendant, a large golden disk with a dark crystal in the middle, and placed it around his neck. The Varya looked pitifully at the Elf who would soon be going through one of the hardest Varya tests there was. Varya and Valar were physically and mentally much stronger than even the strongest who walked upon Middle-Earth. That was why they were in the service of Iluvatar and his children.
"If you wish to back out, Elf, we could find another more devoted." He said, noting the slightly frightened expression on his face.
"My decision is made. Save her." Legolas said surely.
"You have my pity." The Varya said and gestured to the other two Varya to come forward.
They began to chant in an unknown tongue, each swinging their own pendants in a slow tedious rhythm. Legolas' vision began to blur and a glowing warmth began to grow on his chest. His head lolled forward and he slowly opened his eyes. The gem in the pendant was glowing a bright orange. He looked up into the eyes of the leading Varya as the chants became faster.
Suddenly he cried out in pain, he felt as though some unseen hand was griping his heart and trying to wrench it out of his chest. Then he felt the feel of dozens of whips cracking against his back and shoulders on top of the unseen hands wrath.
His head lolled from side to side and the pain continued to grow. He fought open his eyes and watched as blood flowed down his arms and shoulders. He moaned as now he felt as though daggers were being repeatedly thrust into his thighs.
Legolas willed himself to slip into unconsciousness to free himself of the pain. The rapid chanting seeped into his mind, controlling him, not allowing him to sleep. He jerked on the restraints, trying to get free of the pain they were causing him. Blood ran down his cheek from a wound he could not remember receiving and he tasted the sweet flavor of Elven blood on his lips.
"Think of your beloved, Legolas. Think of love." A gentle soothing voice flowed to him, like thick honey, from a source he could not see. He tried to look for the maiden who had spoken, for surely she was his beloved. Offering comfort in this time of torture.
No! his mind screamed. Honora was his beloved, she would be forever, even though he would not see her again. He brought images of her to his mind. Her laughing and some joke he could not at that moment remember telling. Her lips upon his, her eyes closed with a look of utopian peace upon her face. Her sleeping, snuggled against his form, claiming to be cold from a trek across a river. Why had they crossed the river? Where was she? Why could he not touch her? Kiss her again? Surely that would ease his pain more than mere thoughts of her beauty and love.
Then he remembered the image of her lying broken in the mud, covered in a black blood of the beast that lay upon her. He shuddered at the sight and tears began to flow from his eyes. "Honora. . ." His voice croaked, then he fell into blessed unconsciousness.
TBC
Reviews:
theparanoidone: Heh, only if you ask nicely. :D
silverdust: Yay . . . I mean damn. LoL "Cause of death, story-update tension"
Elfaer: I'm glad your still stickig to it. :D
Nelinde: I know, I loved that bit too. I was like "awe" as I was writting it. AWE.
The beasts before her did not fear her words, one of the Balrogs even snapped it's whip at her, drawing a small trickle of blood down her cheek. She looked emotionlessly at the beast and her blood flowed golden down her cheek.
"This is Iluvatars own blade, crafted by his hand when he first walked this land. This is Airehyanda. This is your last chance, bow down or die."
The Sauraulca gave a loud roar, smoke billowing from it's mouth, for indeed it was truly related to a dragon. The Vilsks hissed loudly, trying to take over her mind, but her will was much too strong. The Moroks gnashed their teeth together preparing to rip her to shreds. The Balrog's snapped their whips, daring her to come down.
"Iluvatar!" She cried and leapt down from the wall, Airehyanda sank deep into the chest of the nearest Balrog, the one who had whipped her, and tore the beast open as the forces of gravity pulled her towards the ground. She pulled her blade out, unafraid of the beasts before her. The next closest demon to her was a Vilsk, it's fangs dripping with venom.
"Rucin unquale." (Feel agony)She said darkly as she sliced open the skin beneath the snakes chin. She rolled out of the way as the beasts venom poured out of the wound, scorching the earth beneath. It cried out in pain, a horrible high-pitched hiss, very painful on Honora's sensitive Elven ears.
She turned from the dying Vilsk and faced the Sauraulca who had stepped forward. "Aina ramba." She whispered in a spell moments before the giant lizard let loose a giant stream of flame. She felt no heat as the fire passed by her, the magical walls around her reflecting or absorbing the heat.
She charged forward, sinking Airehyanda deep into the beasts stomach. She pulled it free and looked up, the beasts red eyes loomed closer to her, glaring at her for causing what little pain the wound had caused it. It's skin was think and it's nerves unsensitive so as that it would not feel pain. She glared back but as their battle of will was passing, a Morok swiped it's paw against her, ripping the flesh on her back and tossing her almost five fathoms away, right into the coils of one of the Vilsks bodies.
She jumped up and, with as much strength she could put into it, sliced the head off the the great snake. It's body went limp, falling to the ground with a thud. She wiped her blade off on her cloak, glaring at the giant Morok lumbering towards her, teeth gnashing the whole way.
She slid off the carcass of the Vilsk and ran towards the giant bear. She dodged it's swiping claws and leapt up onto the beast knee then back. The Morok shook angrily, it's claws tearing it's own skin as it tried to remove her. Eventually the beast collapsed, tired from it's own efforts. Moroks were fierce, but grew tired easily. Honora sank her sword into the back of the beasts neck.
She stood behind it's carcass, catching her breath from her exertion. There were still many beasts to kill. She looked down at her arms, the were completely coated with the golden liquid that was her blood, it had taken magic to make her blood look red when she had cut herself in the forests of Ithilien. (She had not wished to reveal herself to Legolas at that time)
She smirked and held out her arms, watching the blood pool into a drip about to fall underneath her elbow. As it fell, though, another Morok crawled over the corpse of it's comrade and knocked her several feet away. She landed on her back and she felt the bone in her right arm snap. She cried out in pain and the Morok lumbered closer, it's teeth gnashing, the same as the last, as it came towards her helpless form.
"Angamando uru tuilindo nya cotumo!" She cried, the words of the spell flowing from her lips as she struggled to get away before the beast fell.
The Morok stopped, cocked it head to the side, then burst into flames. It gave a loud roar as the last of it's life force was taken from it and it fell to the ground mere inches away from Honora's prone form. She lay back, staring up to the slowly lightening sky. She smiled when she saw hundreds of white dots coming down from the sky. The army of the heavens.
The Valar flew down in legions on their swift wings, golden swords gleaming in bright contrast against their pale skin and hair and white robes. Their faces fierce at the spilling of their Lady's blood, but still more beautiful than any Elf could be. She turned her head towards the forest and was graced with the sight of the Varya walking out of the woods, chanting the holy spells of above. They stood taller than any man, at ten feet tall, their face and hair was as pale as that of the Valar, but they were not as gentle and beautiful, due to ages of training and tests to acquire the most powerful spells.
The demons cried out at the holy attack against them. The Valar charged the beasts, their swords blazing as they spilled the unholy blood of the demons. The Varya continued to chant, some wore pendants around their necks, in which the gems glowed brilliant in the color of the stone, aiding them in their spells. The demons merely stopped and fell over dead once they were under the spells of the Varya.
She sighed thankfully, her father, at least, had not taken away her armies. She struggled to her feet, holding her injured arm close to her chest so as not to cause it any more pain. She didn't know where to go though, she couldn't go back into the city, not while her armies were still fighting. There was nothing left to do but to continue to fight. She staggered over to the Varya and fell into the arms of one of the closest.
"Heal my arm. Please." She begged, Airehyanda was held loosely in her left hand.
The Varya nodded and gently pulled her injured arm away from her body, firmly holding it out straight at her side, then he began to chant. Honora winced in pain as the bones were melded together again. The Varya let her go and she stumbled for a moment beofre steadying herself on her feet. She transfered Airehyanda back to her right hand and tested her arm for strength. It was strong. She gratefully gave her thanks to the Varya that had saved her and ran back into battle.
She jumped on the back of a Morok and sank Airehyanda into the back of it's neck. It cried out and fell forward. She flew off it's back, rolling across the rough ground. Her hand let go of Airehyanda as she toppled and landed many feet away from her as she lay on her back once more on the battle fields. She looked around and saw the holy sword, laying in the filth of the battlefield, covered in the black blood of the demons around her.
"Lady!" She heard one of the Valar cry from above. She looked over to she the body of the Sauraulca falling towards her. She had no time to move as the giant body fell over her. She moaned as the weight of the beasts thick neck landed on her. She felt the bones of her rib cage crack under the tremendous weight and her breath would not come as easily. She was trapped now, and dying.
Her brow furrowed at a vibration she felt regularly for the next few moments. She looked around and was disgusted to find that the Sauraulca was still living. She looked again to her right, Airehyanda lay in the mud, much out of her reach. She took a deep breath, gathering all that was left of her strength as she reached over her shoulders and pulled her brother's blades from their sheaths.
"My fate." She whispered. She closed her eyes and saw the loving face of Legolas behind her lids. Then her eyes snapped open and she drove both blades into the beasts neck. The vibrations stopped then and the demons syrupy black blood oozed out onto her, falling across the silver and emerald pendant hanging from her neck. She had meant to give it to Legolas, though now, she thought, she would not have the chance. She closed her eyes and relaxed, letting darkness claim her.
Legolas finally jerked free of Aragorn and Eomer's restraints and ran as fast as he could to the gate. "Open the gate! Open the gate!" He cried as he neared the gate.
At the look in his eyes, the gate was opened, none wanting to be victim of his wrath. He ran past the gate and looked out at the devastation of the battle before him. He scanned the area for his beloved but he could not see her green cloak anywhere in blurs of black and green and so much white.
As she sun rose higher though, it glinted off of something laying in the mud ten fathoms away. He ran to it, just barely missing the swiping claws of one of the giant bears. It was what he had feared, Honora's white blade. He looked around, fearing what he knew he would find. He body would be somewhere around here. He scanned the ground until he eventually found her, the only thing giving her presence away was a pale hand sticking out of the mud. He ran over to her and was shocked to find it wasn't mud at all, but the blood of the beast on top of her.
"Honora. . ." He whispered in shock, dropping to his knees beside her body, lifting her pale hand to his lips. "Melda." Tears came to his eyes and ran, unchecked, down his cheeks. He gently lifted her head into his knees and continued to weep. "Save her, Iluvatar! Spare your daughter from this!" He begged.
It seemed an eternity before finally the sounds of battle around him faded to silence. A golden blade was pressed to his throat, he looked up without fear at the being before him. A Vala, a Guardian of the People, stood above him glaring.
"Rya serce na or lya ma." (Her blood is on your hands) It said darkly in elvish. Legolas looked down and saw that truly there was her blood on his hands, running sticky and golden between his fingers.
Legolas looked back into the Vala's eyes. "Ta na nya nyere" (It is my fault) He whispered.
The Vala turned and spoke quickly to another of the Vala in a tongue Legolas did not understand. The second Vala nodded and soon there were twenty or more Valar lifting the carcass of the giant beast off of Honora's body. Legolas, to the dismay of the Valar around him, scooped up Honora's body into his arms and hugged her tightly to him.
"Ma ho i Heri!" (Hands off the Lady) The Vala that had held his sword to Legolas snapped and took Honora from him arms. "Bring him! Her father would like word with him." He said in the common tongue to another Vala.
Legolas was roughly hauled into the Vala's arms and then the army of the heavens departed once more. Legolas looked to the city below, constantly growing smaller and smaller and time passed. When at last he could stand that no more, he looked over to the Vala that carried Honora, and stared at her pale face, blood still oozed from the wound on her cheek.
It seemed that for hours they traveled upwards and eventually it began very hard for him to breath. The air was thinner and less nourishing, making his head swim and his breathing come in short gasps.
"Sleep, Elf. I would not have you dead before the Lords decision." The Vala carrying him said harshly. The Valar, unlike how legends portrayed them, were a fierce and loyal people. They were created to protect the chosen ones of Iluvatar. These Valar were obviously fiercely loyal to Honora.
Legolas nodded and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall into reverie. As she slept, he was haunted by dreams of grief. He kept seeing the body of Honora, broken and bloodied, lying in the black blood of the giant lizard.
Legolas woke when he was thrown onto the floor. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked several times. The land around him was completely white, as though there was no end to it. His eyes fell now on Iluvatar, a dwarvish battleaxe rest in his hands.
"You did not heed my warnings, Prince." Iluvatar said unemotionally.
"Your daughter is dying and all you can think to say is of how I did not heed your warning?" Legolas exclaimed as he got to his feet.
"She is dying because of you." The god replied.
"And do you have no care of her? Why are you not with her? As her last comfort?" Legolas demanded.
"And you still feel it your duty to tell me my place?" Iluvatar asked angrily. "Do you feel no guilt in what harm you have caused?"
Legolas held his tongue at this comment. Yes, indeed, he felt guilt. More guilt than the god would ever be able to comprehend for the rest of his ruling. It pained him, was how much guilt he felt, it physically pained him. Yet he would not let this being know that. He refused to show more weakness to Iluvatar than he already had.
"You have nothing to say to this? I am not with her because she has already passed. Does that ease your anger, Legolas of Mirkwood?" The deity asked.
"Already passed?" Legolas asked in shock, falling to his knees."This cannot be . . . not yet."
"Why do you think she came to you, Legolas? She didn't come to say 'I love you', she came to say goodbye." Iluvatar said spitefully.
A figure of serene white came into the room, long flowing platinum hair hung down her back and the ribbons of her slender white dress flapped out behind her as she moved. Her pale face was contrasted by the violet color of her eyes and the pale pink of her lips.
"Rise, Prince. You must not despair." She said gently and offered her hand to Legolas.
"Melwa! Why are you here?" Iluvatar yelled.
"She is my daughter too, and you may not trust this Elf, but I do. He is my chosen." The woman said gently, the sound of her voice like music more beautiful than any that could be created in the lands below. "I trust to love."
Legolas hesitantly took the proffered hand and rose to his feet. He could see the rage on Iluvatars face, hating that things would not go his way, that his axe would go unbloodied.
The woman, Melwa, as Iluvatar had called her, steadily guided him away from The Creator, and it was then that Legolas noticed, that this was not a landscape of endless white, but truly walls, colored flawlessly so as to not see the seams.
Legolas was led through the halls, not knowing where he was being led or who this woman as his side was. She was beautiful, Legolas admitted, but yet she seemed surreal. He realized now where Honora had gotten her beauty from, yet Honora's beauty was more real, he figured from living in Middle- Earth for so long, as he doubted Melwa had.
Finally she stopped, but he still could see nothing other than the white around him. Melwa made a motion like opening a door, although Legolas could not see it, and he saw Honora lying on a bed with three of the Varya standing over her chanting and bandaging her and putting on foul smelling salves and pouring gooey liquids past her lips.
"Honora. . ." He whispered at the sight of her.
One of the Varya looked up to the door. "My Lady, she is not well. She will need a willing life force if she is to survive." He said, looking straight at Legolas.
"Now is your chance to prove your love for my daughter." Melwa said, giving the Varya a secret look. Iluvatar entered the room, obviously over his tantrum.
"My life force. . ." He whispered, kneeling beside her and taking her hand. "It's hers."
He did not see the smile exchanged between the Varya that had spoken and Melwa. Indeed, they were both pleased that Honora had chosen such a loving and selfless person. The Varya nodded and led him to a special chair in the corner. Legolas sat down on his own, then noticed the leather straps on the arms and legs of the chair. He looked back to Melwa as the Varya tied the straps tight. He caught sight of Iluvatar smiling darkly at his position.
"Don't worry, it will hurt." He said mockingly, but received a stern look from Melwa. He smiled cruelly and watched the procedures he knew well.
Once Legolas' wrists and ankles were bound to the chair the Varya took a pendant, a large golden disk with a dark crystal in the middle, and placed it around his neck. The Varya looked pitifully at the Elf who would soon be going through one of the hardest Varya tests there was. Varya and Valar were physically and mentally much stronger than even the strongest who walked upon Middle-Earth. That was why they were in the service of Iluvatar and his children.
"If you wish to back out, Elf, we could find another more devoted." He said, noting the slightly frightened expression on his face.
"My decision is made. Save her." Legolas said surely.
"You have my pity." The Varya said and gestured to the other two Varya to come forward.
They began to chant in an unknown tongue, each swinging their own pendants in a slow tedious rhythm. Legolas' vision began to blur and a glowing warmth began to grow on his chest. His head lolled forward and he slowly opened his eyes. The gem in the pendant was glowing a bright orange. He looked up into the eyes of the leading Varya as the chants became faster.
Suddenly he cried out in pain, he felt as though some unseen hand was griping his heart and trying to wrench it out of his chest. Then he felt the feel of dozens of whips cracking against his back and shoulders on top of the unseen hands wrath.
His head lolled from side to side and the pain continued to grow. He fought open his eyes and watched as blood flowed down his arms and shoulders. He moaned as now he felt as though daggers were being repeatedly thrust into his thighs.
Legolas willed himself to slip into unconsciousness to free himself of the pain. The rapid chanting seeped into his mind, controlling him, not allowing him to sleep. He jerked on the restraints, trying to get free of the pain they were causing him. Blood ran down his cheek from a wound he could not remember receiving and he tasted the sweet flavor of Elven blood on his lips.
"Think of your beloved, Legolas. Think of love." A gentle soothing voice flowed to him, like thick honey, from a source he could not see. He tried to look for the maiden who had spoken, for surely she was his beloved. Offering comfort in this time of torture.
No! his mind screamed. Honora was his beloved, she would be forever, even though he would not see her again. He brought images of her to his mind. Her laughing and some joke he could not at that moment remember telling. Her lips upon his, her eyes closed with a look of utopian peace upon her face. Her sleeping, snuggled against his form, claiming to be cold from a trek across a river. Why had they crossed the river? Where was she? Why could he not touch her? Kiss her again? Surely that would ease his pain more than mere thoughts of her beauty and love.
Then he remembered the image of her lying broken in the mud, covered in a black blood of the beast that lay upon her. He shuddered at the sight and tears began to flow from his eyes. "Honora. . ." His voice croaked, then he fell into blessed unconsciousness.
TBC