Disclaimer: The disclaimer here is that I'm sick of repeating myself…you've probably memorized it already anyway. The whole point of putting the word DISCLAIMER here is to remind you to recall it from the depths of your memories to save me time from putting it into sentences.
Echoes of the Narbeleth
Spirit Star
Chapter 18: In which it is a Good Morning
The slaughtered bodies of the orcs were piled and burnt, although the remaining trees shrunk back in fear. Of course they used the deadwood left over from the last burning, but as the smoke billowed and the foul stench of burnt flesh wafted up skywards, the faces of all present were grim.
It was the elves who looked gloomily into the dying fire. It was early night, and the sky was barely visible through the clearing smoke. Slowly, the flame died down and a few embers carelessly glowed in the induced darkness. The figures stood still until one looked expectantly at a figure who stood a little detached from the rest, hugging herself lightly in the lonely cold; the fires for melding had been put out.
As if suddenly aware that eyes were upon her, Adariel looked up suddenly. Then, as one who had suddenly freed herself from a dream, she stirred and looked about with wide eyes as she took in the damage thoroughly as if for the first time. There was silence as one by one, the elves followed her gaze and stared in disbelief at the scene surrounding them.
The battle had been short, but grim for the elves who had fought against the orcs were on the most part unarmed as they were laboring elves. They themselves were blood-soaked and weary and most wished for the trance-like sleep that took them upon the roads of dream.
The roads had been trampled and ruined, and most of the buildings had been torn apart, including the Great Hall. It lay in ruins in a heap of useless metals and dark shadows had fled in terror from the wrath of the elves. The red earth had taken a rusty hue as if soaked with blood. Nothing could live in the ruined valley on its free will.
"We must first send the dead off in a manner fit for them." It was Adariel's voice that brought them back from their disbelieving meditation. She was looking at the slain bodies of her kindred that they had carefully laid gently on a dry patch of ground.
The carried the dead to the lake and laid them on the grassy banks of the water.
"Time is short," Adariel sighed. "Although we cannot sail them into the West, we must hope that at least the waters of this lake can comfort them." Then as an afterthought, she added, "I mân an Mandos garo drego."
The dead were sent into the lake and they watched as the water swallowed them lovingly and held them in its embrace. There was just one more body to be taken. Adariel motioned for some help and together they dragged Eltheran's body to the water's edge. Somehow a peaceful smile had settled itself upon his lips.
There were some present who drew back, and some who muttered "Elbereth!" under their breath. Adariel looked at them sharply, and annoyance flashed in her eyes but she said, "I do not begrudge your dislike for this soul for he has wronged you. But the dead must be laid at rest, and so they shall."
The lake water swallowed the body silently.
As one, they moved and out to the ruins of Lakewood-Morladris and once again looked mournfully upon the ruined place although no regret touched their hearts. The beauty of the once-tall Lakewood had diminished into nothingness. None who beheld it wished to stay any longer.
"Whither to?" they asked one another.
"Imladris," a voice answered.
"To the city of the Galadhrim…long fabled," Another said.
They were a divided people, estranged from one another. It hurt the silent observer's heart to see her own people in such a way. It would be inevitable, of course, that each would go their separate way to whichever city they longed as their own. They tried to convince one another to join them, although each heart was set upon a destination already.
Sorrowful voices rose until a farewell lament started, and then died again.
"Enough!" Adariel said for the first time debate had risen. "We are a separated people, and will be no more nor shall meet again for a while until the Undying Lands greet us. Then perhaps we shall recount these times as a mere past memory. But now each of us must make our own choice according to the wishes of our hearts. Who will head to Imladris?"
Most of the group stood to a side, nodding their heads in agreement.
"And you must be the ones who desire fair Lorien," Adariel acknowledged the remaining elves, regarding each in silent contemplation as she remembered Galadriel and the light in her city. At last she gave them a small, satisfied smile.
"Take what is at hand, and we shall leave under the cover of night under the stars of Elbereth. Stay a little while for farewell and look for me with the rising moon at the gate of this place. Are there horses left with us?"
Someone went to look and brought back seven white horses whose eyes were rolling in terror. They were calmed, and Adariel allotted five to the group who were heading to Imladris and two to the smaller group who would go to Lorien. They all separated then, to find things that would be needed for the trip, and weapons to defend themselves if need be.
The moon rose, and they were back and the broken gates that lay in a clatter on the bare ground, each with a weary look at the other and a sad smile or a laugh issuing after. The last of them appeared and they formed their traveling parties. The weak on the horses and the rest on foot, they stood and faced their old city for the last time, most regarding it as an artist would regard a ruined piece of work.
Then they turned back to the North one by one.
"You know that they would most likely be under attack," Adariel said. They nodded slowly, looking uneasily at the young elf who stood calmly facing them, the light of freedom shining pale through her manner and a wisdom that was not hers to carry in her eyes.
"You know your ways, do you not?" the figure said with a smile. The nodded, and she continued, "Then there must only be one thing left to be said before we part. To you of Imladris, I beg you to tell Lord Elrond that all is well, and to you of Lorien, I beg you to tell the Lady that the Mirror had proved false, at least for the time being."
Another wave of agreement, and they looked ruefully at one another as they turned to head their separate ways North. Suddenly, one turned back. It was an elf that looked familiar somehow and part of the group heading to Imladris. "You will stay hither?"
They all stopped and turned to look at her. Already she was far behind. They fancied a strange smile lit her lips when a small voice traveled to them, "No," it said half to itself. "I will head…south."
When she was sure they were safely on their way, Adariel looked back at the still form of Morladris. An eerie birdcall echoed through the night; it was an owl of some sort. Suddenly, the empty space seemed to fill with a presence and she sensed that creatures were moving this way. It was time to go.
She began to run south, jumping over the fallen logs and breaking into the trees. They were silent as they regarded her, and she groaned half to herself when she remembered that trees were slow forget and slow to forgive. It may be another thousand autumns before one would even regard her civilly. With trees, acts of forgiveness were not automatic, but considered then granted.
It grew slightly lighter as she fled out of the Fangorn, the trees opening to grassy ground and dirt patches near the Entwash. Then suddenly the tree line stopped and she was out in open ground again, gazing out toward the faint signs of distant mountains.
It looked to be a long trek. She took a big breath and put one foot in front of the other. After all, the longest journeys started with a single step…still, she couldn't help but wonder somewhat bitterly what happened to her horse. There was wind about the flat land and the constant sound of water running in the distance. It felt strangely good to walk alone once more, without the added stress of being watched.
But it did not escape her that she was walking into the very mouth of danger. Fleeting glimpses of dark places came to her mind, and stooping shadows sometimes prowled on open roads in daylight, and shadows in starlight took on beasts that lurked behind imposing nooks.
Soon, she knew she would at least be spotted; there was no hiding in open ground.
It was a full day before she spotted the first patrol galloping hurriedly north some way away, out of the sight of Men, heading for the Isen. She stopped to watch them as they reared their steeds and let the beasts rake the air before journeying onward. She remained standing after they had long gone out of her sight, pondering and musing, wondering what their manner meant and the events surrounding it.
The north wind followed her as she picked up her pace on her road south.
She was stopped by riders in sight of Musefield. They had a different look upon their faces, less weary than Eomer's eored but instead were grim and unforgiving. There were less of them, and their mounts paced impatiently beneath them for they were heavy men and the horses were less in strength than the long distance riders.
"Halt!" they called to her and immediately surrounded her in a circle, their spears pointing toward her in every direction and arrow-tips glinting in the pale sun. "Who art thou and what is thy business?"
"I have to see the Lord of Rohan," she said. "Time is very short and I must get to the safety of your halls."
"We will not let you pass, for fear that you are a shadow creature. Do you not know that the shadow in the East looms over us and the cries from Isengard come ever closer?"
"I know this, but I will say that I mean no harm in your country."
"What is thy business here, and what is thy name? You have told us naught of what we asked."
"I am looking for the rest of my company, and my name is my own."
They stared wondering at her and some let a smile out the corner of their lips. It became quite clear soon that she would not volunteer any information other than what she had already told them.
"You will be a prisoner, not a guest, if you do not answer us in a fashion that we may feel safe with," they warned her.
"But I have answered you," she said and looked up, knowing what a sight she must be in worn and bloodied clothing. Her cloak shifted slightly from her shoulders revealing a few golden strands of hair that flickered silver in the pale light.
They hardy men looked skeptical as they muttered in their own tongue to each other solemnly and flickered their gaze occasionally on the strange visitor. She waited patiently, letting her mind drift a little to warmer places and fonder memories.
The voices raised slightly, then dimmed to a hush as they all nodded to each other with some looking unsure and doubtful.
"We will take you to the Lady who rules in her the king's absence," one said to her. "She is of great blood and will know what to do with you."
"That is well," Adariel said, smiling and rousing to join them. "It is what I have wanted all along, to see the great lady in this fair country."
"Pretty words do not cloud our judgment," they said in answer and then brought her up in front of one of the riders on a rusty battle horse who looked worn from memories. It stumbled a little in surprise at the new load, then straightened proudly and bore the new weight with dignity.
Knowledgeable feet take the fastest road, as they say, and the companies of riders were indeed at the door of the Golden Hall by the sun-set.
The warm water lapped gently at her throat, and Adariel let herself float up a little to savor the warmth and luxury of the long dreamt of bath. She batted at the water with her hands wistfully, thinking of the lake where she used to play in left far behind in its lonely place haunted by the spirits of the unfortunate.
Suddenly, the hay-scented water lost its warmth.
The handmaidens were waiting on the other side of the screen and their shadows shifted slightly as they noticed that their charge had finished bathing and the gown that their Lady had sent had disappeared from its position hanging over the top of the blinds.
It was Deep Night, and they did not object nor fuss when Adariel stepped gingerly out dressed in the gowns that the women of Rohan wore that was suited more to work than admiration although the design was admirable in many different ways.
The bath was taken away by the sleep deprived servants to be drained.
"Lady Adariel?" Éowyn called from the door that had been left open after the bath was carried away. "Would you honour me with a walk underneath the stars on this sleepless night?"
"The honour is all mine and more so," Adariel answered in a courteous tone, having just finished the braiding of her hair. "Have you any news?"
"I'm afraid not," Éowyn answered sadly, "All we can do is wait. The scouts have told us that there is silence from the borders that way, and the smoke has died down."
The look on Éowyn's face caused Adariel to flinch. It was a mixture between anger, anxiety and restlessness and a little bit of something else that made her suspect that something in her companion's heart was not at peace. Saying nothing, Adariel followed her host up a spiral of stairs that lead to the open upper sentry stands of the Great Hall.
"Come," Éowyn said without looking behind her, "this is where I stand when I watch for them."
It was like a window to the lands north, although it only showed the northern territory of Rohan. There were the soft stars that melted in and out of the velvet blackness and the mellow moonlight that parted in beams through a hazy storm of clouds.
"Rohan is truly a majestic place," Adariel commented.
"Rohan is honoured," Éowyn answered absently, her eyes glazed and staring into the direction of Isengard and toward the Gap of Rohan and Helm's Deep where the smoke had indeed cleared and the red glow of dying fires were absent. The silent landscape unnerved Adariel for she had never thought of living things as ever silent. It felt so still and even the wind did not chatter as it usually did on clear nights.
Éowyn was as still as stone.
Thinking back, Adariel was again surprised at how the Lady of Rohan had been indifferent her sudden presence from the start. It was as if she had been foretold. And by who? Mithrandir, Gandalf? Surely not! Adariel mused. Her companion shifted her weight and continued her vigil.
Cold was the comfort offered in Éowyn's face. It was both thoughtful and blank, emotionless and sorrowful; terrible and radiant. There was a person that Éowyn searched for, she knew. But the silence was like a tide that toiled between the two figures, and not a word was said.
Sweeping her eyes across the landscape, Adariel sighed deeply and drew her eyes back up toward the moon, sailing slowly across the sky. It reminded her of the sun-waning, now fading into the velvet setting. The great tides would fall and bow to its command.
A movement to her left chased her vision back to the near distance. It was Éowyn, squinting a little into the distance having not moved from the stance that Adariel had last seen her in.
"Come advise me, friend," her host said urgently. "What is it that you see?"
Following the direction of Éowyn's gaze, Adariel tried to shrug off the shadows of the night and peer into the dim pools of moonlight. At first she saw nothing but a ring of soft starlight being chased across the hoof beaten ground. Slowly, however, the tall figures of trees melted to reveal swift movement.
It was a rider.
Behind him came another, and then a third. And perhaps a fourth, but Adariel had turned back into the eager face of the Lady of Rohan. She paused to catch her breath at the intensity of the gaze she was given, and smiled.
"Is it true?" Éowyn wondered.
"Yes," Adariel laughed. "The wanderers have returned and the birds flown back south…perhaps it will be a good morning after all."
Together, The Lady of Rohan and her fair guest departed in eager anticipation of the coming of Arien's chariot.
End of Chapter 18
Please don't kill me (please?) –Spirit Star