Chapter Fifty-Six: All Is Lost
Disclaimer: I don't know why I'm putting another one of these so far into the story, but I feel like it. All of this belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien because he was a nerd who had enough time to come up with all of this! AHH!
A/N: OMG! Thank you for all of your reviews, especially USako, who reviewed on EVERY FREAKING CHAPTER IN SEQUENCE! Almost. Close enough. (Hope your ears get better.) Hey, USako, you sound like MY best friend, so e-mail me, airforce_engineer@yahoo.com, all right? Or just anybody else who wants to know who the hell I am. You guys are freaking awesome, I love your reviews! All right, let me make excuses for myself. I haven't been updating because I've been so caught up in the NEW story that I'm writing. I know I said I probably wasn't going to make another story (no, sadly not a sequel, there's only so much I can put poor Aila and Legolas through). But I lied. I'm a compulsive liar. So yeah. This chapter is HELLA short, but I'll update it, now that I'm ENTIRELY finished writing my second story. I will post it as soon as I'm done with this one, which will go on for (sadly enough) just a few more chapters. Thank you guys for being such great patrons and so forth, blah, blah, I love you guys!
PRONUNCIATION KEY
Glorinul: Glor-(as in glory, without the y)-in-yul-(as in the "ule" sound in mule)
Findecano: Fin-duh-KHAN-(as in Genghis Khan)-oh
…
The wraiths emptied out of the make-shift conference room. Some ran, others walked slowly, nursing hurts, while some yet crawled, their legs or arms hewn off, but still they struggled onward to the fight. Glorinul's warriors had retreated and were huddled, but Aila's wraiths attacked them with a ferocity none expected. Aila's fighter pilot had hung back a little, unsure of what to do. Her airplane had been destroyed in fires that had ravaged the halls initially. One of Legolas' warrior wraiths offered her one of his elven blades, but she shook her head and he rushed into the fray. Aila's wraiths were losing horribly, and the fighter pilot chewed her lip, not having many other skills beside flight.
Rushing past her, another military wraith stopped. The Marine handed her one of her daggers, before dashing past. Staring at the bright dagger in her hand, as long as her forearm, the fighter pilot smiled. Then, she turned her head and watched the fight for a moment. She wasn't about to rush in mindlessly. Seeing where she was most needed, the fighter pilot gripped the dagger and sprinted into the fray.
Aila's head mind wraith fought beside Legolas' own head wraith, just like Aila and Legolas himself fought beside each other in the Battle of Pellenore fields. His swords dripped with blood from Glorinul's wraiths, and around them Legolas and Aila wraiths alike fell dead beside Glorinul wraiths, which did the same. It was a hard fought battle, but slowly, it seemed as if Glorinul was gaining the upper hand. Suddenly, however, at the end of the hall, racing towards the battle in the center of the large expanse, there was the fleet-footed wraith who had been sent to summon the Wrath of Heart. And behind her, walking to meet her running steps, was the Wrath.
Larger than any could ever imagine. The wrath that Aila felt in her heart, the passion that she had so long suppressed, had swelled the heart wraith into such a monstrous creature. The wraith was dressed in blood red robes, with the familiar hood about her head, and her hair was neatly tucked away in the robes. Like a monk, but malevolent and beautiful. In her hand she wielded a fiery sword that blazed with the light of a thousand fires, eating hungrily at the air and space around it, whipping licks of fires sprung out randomly across the blade, and in its heart was an icy core, colder than the arctic circle.
Every wraith involved in the battle froze at the sight of the Wrath of Heart striding towards them. Aila's wraiths all sank to their knees and bowed down, while Aila and Legolas' head wraiths stood, smiles apparent on their bloodied faces. Glorinul's wraiths stood still standing, never moving, as if frozen as they gazed in horror upon the giant beast. Swinging her sword aloft, the Wrath began her work.
Fire swept across the hall, engulfing all of those who remained standing. Screams were drowned out by the howling of the fire as it sucked air to it, suffocating those around, but the kneeled wraiths of Aila and Legolas were safe, the fire scorching above their heads. Taking another gigantic step, the Wrath swung her sword again and laid about all who were left standing. The licks of fire had gone around them, but there was no escaping the ice of her blade once her shadowed face glimpsed you. Glorinul had no escape. Wraiths ran and tried to hide, but their end always come, through either fire or ice.
In the midst of it all, stood the head wraiths. Their hands were clasped to the other's and they stood, smiling as they watched the Wrath of Heart deal justice. As the Wrath fought, however, she began to shrink. The wraiths of Glorinul saw this, and began to counter her fiery strokes, only resulting in the breaking of their swords. However, Aila's wraiths stood and surrounded the Wrath of Heart, accompanied by Legolas' wraiths, and they fought in a huge circle while the Wrath stood in the center, shooting fingers of flame like arrows or a whip, to set articles of clothing on fire to kill the wraiths of Glorinul.
One of the most prominent wraiths amid the fighter wielded a small dagger against the mighty sword of Glorinul, but was still gaining the upper hand. MANNINGS flashed at her chest, her oxygen mask and helmet lay forgotten in some corner of Aila's mind. Battling furiously, the fighter pilot wraith took on a particularly strong cell of Glorinul. Her battling skills, unlike the Marine, who had already been killed by several wraiths upon her at once, were lacking in ways of one on one combat. Slowly, the other wraith gained the upper hand.
With one quick slice, Glorinul's wraith cut off the hand that wielded the dagger the marine gave to her. Wincing in the pain, sending a sharp electric probe through Aila's mind, the fighter pilot continued to fight by all means available. Soon, however, she found herself with a knife through her stomach. Her eyes closing against the blood that gushed into her hands as she pulled the sword from her stomach. With one last great effort, she ran it, likewise, through the chest of Glorinul's wraith. He fell to the ground gurgling and died instantly. The fighter pilot, however, had several moments of agony, while she clutched her bleeding stomach. Far off, beyond the fighting, she could see the dead body of the Marine as well, and the Army soldier, as well as the Navy seaman. The military had died, and she had failed. Slowly, she faded into nothingness, and she was lost.
Soon, there was nothing left of the battle except the smoldering remains of Glorinul's wraiths.
…
Within the conference room, the nobles had continued their discussion, but quietly, with no more yelling. Many times their eyes would escape the face of whichever elf was speaking to fervently stare at the limp form of Aila for a moment. At her side, still clinging to her hand, was Legolas, and at her other, was Findecano.
Aila became conscious once again, but she kept her eyes closed as she recounted what had happened. She was well aware that none of Glorinul's wraiths still occupied her mind. On her right finger, she felt the warm metal of Greenleaf, and in her left hand she felt a soft hand, slender and comfortable. She squeezed the hand gently, before she opened her eyes slowly, unglazed and no longer distant, to meet their piercing blue eyes of her husband. Beside her, also, was her son.
"Aila," Legolas gasped, gripping her hand tightly. His blonde hair fell limply to his shoulders, and she immediately saw the dark circles under his eyes from staying up, waiting for her. Immediately, she raised her right and ran her fingers along his lower lid. Legolas shuddered for a few moments at her touch, feeling the reality of her flesh, warm and fresh. "Aila …" he repeated and she smiled.
"I am alive again," she whispered. Suddenly, her eyes shot up, brown and shot with flecks of gold, and she stared around the counsel of the nobles, staring at the sheet of paper with her meek writing upon it. "Glorinul is planning to …" Flexing her fingers and stretching down to her toes, Aila reveled in the feeling of having control over her body once more. She could still faintly feel the evil taint of Glorinul's thoughts in her mind, but they were slowly being wiped away by her remaining mind wraiths, who had been few, but now were plentiful in reproduction to replace the killed cells.
Her heart wrenched as memories came flooding back to her. The capture of her mind, the battles that ensued. The final battle, the Wrath of Heart, her fighter pilot … All was lost. One wraith that could never be replaced was the one wraith she had to represent her love for the military. It was all lost. Her heart sinking down in her chest, one of her hands flew to her stomach, where the clutched the region where the fighter pilot had been impaled. Legolas stared at her, along with the other elves.
"Glorinul," the name escaped her chapped lips like a child whispers the name of a long-feared bully. A child who was afraid that if the name was spoken, the bully would appear out of no where. Aila had become like a child, but Legolas' still tight grip on her hand grounded her, and she recollected her thoughts, pushing aside her raging depression at the loss of one of her favorite wraiths. So it was with war. "Glorinul is planning something terrible. You think that he will wait while his men wither and die while we sit here and thrive with immortality? No. He will attack. Secretly. Change his plans, he may do, since I believe he is aware that I know of his plans. His attack with be sudden and swift. Elves will have no time to respond if we are not prepared. Put archer on the rooftops, secret and well-hidden. Walk some out among the forest. The elves of Rivendell are still far off." She took a deep breath and continued.
"He will tunnel into the castle. Such a wide tunnel that soldiers can run through, three shoulder to shoulder, and they will emerge quickly at the other end, awaiting the engineers to break through the surface, in the middle of a courtyard."
"They are not moles," said one of the nobles indignantly. It was he who had suggested to tunnel in order to rescue Aila and Legolas.
"Neither are we. But they are engineers. Men have wrought too far into technology for them to stop there. There are many ways that they can dig swiftly and quietly, and support their tunnels as they do so, so they are not simply digging their own graves. It will be a long process, but they hope to do it out of our eyes, away from the thoughts of the elves. They want us to think that they are peaceful and will wait with their siege. Secretly, they will work."
"And how do we know that you are not still occupied by Glorinul, and he is not speaking through you, to lead us on with lies and deceit?" asked another. Thranduil's eyes were intent upon Aila. It seemed he was thinking the same.
"Look at her eyes," replied Findecano, softly. His voice was calm, but Aila could hear the slight ice in it. "They are no longer glazed and distant, as they were during his occupation. With powers that it is beyond us to know, she has defeated Glorinul. For is she not the Light Bearer? Meant to have extraordinary powers of Mind?"
Disclaimer: I don't know why I'm putting another one of these so far into the story, but I feel like it. All of this belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien because he was a nerd who had enough time to come up with all of this! AHH!
A/N: OMG! Thank you for all of your reviews, especially USako, who reviewed on EVERY FREAKING CHAPTER IN SEQUENCE! Almost. Close enough. (Hope your ears get better.) Hey, USako, you sound like MY best friend, so e-mail me, airforce_engineer@yahoo.com, all right? Or just anybody else who wants to know who the hell I am. You guys are freaking awesome, I love your reviews! All right, let me make excuses for myself. I haven't been updating because I've been so caught up in the NEW story that I'm writing. I know I said I probably wasn't going to make another story (no, sadly not a sequel, there's only so much I can put poor Aila and Legolas through). But I lied. I'm a compulsive liar. So yeah. This chapter is HELLA short, but I'll update it, now that I'm ENTIRELY finished writing my second story. I will post it as soon as I'm done with this one, which will go on for (sadly enough) just a few more chapters. Thank you guys for being such great patrons and so forth, blah, blah, I love you guys!
PRONUNCIATION KEY
Glorinul: Glor-(as in glory, without the y)-in-yul-(as in the "ule" sound in mule)
Findecano: Fin-duh-KHAN-(as in Genghis Khan)-oh
…
The wraiths emptied out of the make-shift conference room. Some ran, others walked slowly, nursing hurts, while some yet crawled, their legs or arms hewn off, but still they struggled onward to the fight. Glorinul's warriors had retreated and were huddled, but Aila's wraiths attacked them with a ferocity none expected. Aila's fighter pilot had hung back a little, unsure of what to do. Her airplane had been destroyed in fires that had ravaged the halls initially. One of Legolas' warrior wraiths offered her one of his elven blades, but she shook her head and he rushed into the fray. Aila's wraiths were losing horribly, and the fighter pilot chewed her lip, not having many other skills beside flight.
Rushing past her, another military wraith stopped. The Marine handed her one of her daggers, before dashing past. Staring at the bright dagger in her hand, as long as her forearm, the fighter pilot smiled. Then, she turned her head and watched the fight for a moment. She wasn't about to rush in mindlessly. Seeing where she was most needed, the fighter pilot gripped the dagger and sprinted into the fray.
Aila's head mind wraith fought beside Legolas' own head wraith, just like Aila and Legolas himself fought beside each other in the Battle of Pellenore fields. His swords dripped with blood from Glorinul's wraiths, and around them Legolas and Aila wraiths alike fell dead beside Glorinul wraiths, which did the same. It was a hard fought battle, but slowly, it seemed as if Glorinul was gaining the upper hand. Suddenly, however, at the end of the hall, racing towards the battle in the center of the large expanse, there was the fleet-footed wraith who had been sent to summon the Wrath of Heart. And behind her, walking to meet her running steps, was the Wrath.
Larger than any could ever imagine. The wrath that Aila felt in her heart, the passion that she had so long suppressed, had swelled the heart wraith into such a monstrous creature. The wraith was dressed in blood red robes, with the familiar hood about her head, and her hair was neatly tucked away in the robes. Like a monk, but malevolent and beautiful. In her hand she wielded a fiery sword that blazed with the light of a thousand fires, eating hungrily at the air and space around it, whipping licks of fires sprung out randomly across the blade, and in its heart was an icy core, colder than the arctic circle.
Every wraith involved in the battle froze at the sight of the Wrath of Heart striding towards them. Aila's wraiths all sank to their knees and bowed down, while Aila and Legolas' head wraiths stood, smiles apparent on their bloodied faces. Glorinul's wraiths stood still standing, never moving, as if frozen as they gazed in horror upon the giant beast. Swinging her sword aloft, the Wrath began her work.
Fire swept across the hall, engulfing all of those who remained standing. Screams were drowned out by the howling of the fire as it sucked air to it, suffocating those around, but the kneeled wraiths of Aila and Legolas were safe, the fire scorching above their heads. Taking another gigantic step, the Wrath swung her sword again and laid about all who were left standing. The licks of fire had gone around them, but there was no escaping the ice of her blade once her shadowed face glimpsed you. Glorinul had no escape. Wraiths ran and tried to hide, but their end always come, through either fire or ice.
In the midst of it all, stood the head wraiths. Their hands were clasped to the other's and they stood, smiling as they watched the Wrath of Heart deal justice. As the Wrath fought, however, she began to shrink. The wraiths of Glorinul saw this, and began to counter her fiery strokes, only resulting in the breaking of their swords. However, Aila's wraiths stood and surrounded the Wrath of Heart, accompanied by Legolas' wraiths, and they fought in a huge circle while the Wrath stood in the center, shooting fingers of flame like arrows or a whip, to set articles of clothing on fire to kill the wraiths of Glorinul.
One of the most prominent wraiths amid the fighter wielded a small dagger against the mighty sword of Glorinul, but was still gaining the upper hand. MANNINGS flashed at her chest, her oxygen mask and helmet lay forgotten in some corner of Aila's mind. Battling furiously, the fighter pilot wraith took on a particularly strong cell of Glorinul. Her battling skills, unlike the Marine, who had already been killed by several wraiths upon her at once, were lacking in ways of one on one combat. Slowly, the other wraith gained the upper hand.
With one quick slice, Glorinul's wraith cut off the hand that wielded the dagger the marine gave to her. Wincing in the pain, sending a sharp electric probe through Aila's mind, the fighter pilot continued to fight by all means available. Soon, however, she found herself with a knife through her stomach. Her eyes closing against the blood that gushed into her hands as she pulled the sword from her stomach. With one last great effort, she ran it, likewise, through the chest of Glorinul's wraith. He fell to the ground gurgling and died instantly. The fighter pilot, however, had several moments of agony, while she clutched her bleeding stomach. Far off, beyond the fighting, she could see the dead body of the Marine as well, and the Army soldier, as well as the Navy seaman. The military had died, and she had failed. Slowly, she faded into nothingness, and she was lost.
Soon, there was nothing left of the battle except the smoldering remains of Glorinul's wraiths.
…
Within the conference room, the nobles had continued their discussion, but quietly, with no more yelling. Many times their eyes would escape the face of whichever elf was speaking to fervently stare at the limp form of Aila for a moment. At her side, still clinging to her hand, was Legolas, and at her other, was Findecano.
Aila became conscious once again, but she kept her eyes closed as she recounted what had happened. She was well aware that none of Glorinul's wraiths still occupied her mind. On her right finger, she felt the warm metal of Greenleaf, and in her left hand she felt a soft hand, slender and comfortable. She squeezed the hand gently, before she opened her eyes slowly, unglazed and no longer distant, to meet their piercing blue eyes of her husband. Beside her, also, was her son.
"Aila," Legolas gasped, gripping her hand tightly. His blonde hair fell limply to his shoulders, and she immediately saw the dark circles under his eyes from staying up, waiting for her. Immediately, she raised her right and ran her fingers along his lower lid. Legolas shuddered for a few moments at her touch, feeling the reality of her flesh, warm and fresh. "Aila …" he repeated and she smiled.
"I am alive again," she whispered. Suddenly, her eyes shot up, brown and shot with flecks of gold, and she stared around the counsel of the nobles, staring at the sheet of paper with her meek writing upon it. "Glorinul is planning to …" Flexing her fingers and stretching down to her toes, Aila reveled in the feeling of having control over her body once more. She could still faintly feel the evil taint of Glorinul's thoughts in her mind, but they were slowly being wiped away by her remaining mind wraiths, who had been few, but now were plentiful in reproduction to replace the killed cells.
Her heart wrenched as memories came flooding back to her. The capture of her mind, the battles that ensued. The final battle, the Wrath of Heart, her fighter pilot … All was lost. One wraith that could never be replaced was the one wraith she had to represent her love for the military. It was all lost. Her heart sinking down in her chest, one of her hands flew to her stomach, where the clutched the region where the fighter pilot had been impaled. Legolas stared at her, along with the other elves.
"Glorinul," the name escaped her chapped lips like a child whispers the name of a long-feared bully. A child who was afraid that if the name was spoken, the bully would appear out of no where. Aila had become like a child, but Legolas' still tight grip on her hand grounded her, and she recollected her thoughts, pushing aside her raging depression at the loss of one of her favorite wraiths. So it was with war. "Glorinul is planning something terrible. You think that he will wait while his men wither and die while we sit here and thrive with immortality? No. He will attack. Secretly. Change his plans, he may do, since I believe he is aware that I know of his plans. His attack with be sudden and swift. Elves will have no time to respond if we are not prepared. Put archer on the rooftops, secret and well-hidden. Walk some out among the forest. The elves of Rivendell are still far off." She took a deep breath and continued.
"He will tunnel into the castle. Such a wide tunnel that soldiers can run through, three shoulder to shoulder, and they will emerge quickly at the other end, awaiting the engineers to break through the surface, in the middle of a courtyard."
"They are not moles," said one of the nobles indignantly. It was he who had suggested to tunnel in order to rescue Aila and Legolas.
"Neither are we. But they are engineers. Men have wrought too far into technology for them to stop there. There are many ways that they can dig swiftly and quietly, and support their tunnels as they do so, so they are not simply digging their own graves. It will be a long process, but they hope to do it out of our eyes, away from the thoughts of the elves. They want us to think that they are peaceful and will wait with their siege. Secretly, they will work."
"And how do we know that you are not still occupied by Glorinul, and he is not speaking through you, to lead us on with lies and deceit?" asked another. Thranduil's eyes were intent upon Aila. It seemed he was thinking the same.
"Look at her eyes," replied Findecano, softly. His voice was calm, but Aila could hear the slight ice in it. "They are no longer glazed and distant, as they were during his occupation. With powers that it is beyond us to know, she has defeated Glorinul. For is she not the Light Bearer? Meant to have extraordinary powers of Mind?"