Author: Arinya
Rating:R
Disclaimer: All Lord of the Rings characters belong to J.R.R Tolkien, however, this story itself belongs to me and that also applies to the plot. The character "AldÃren" also belongs to me, he is mine, no stealing is permitted. This disclaimer applies for all chapters, of this fanfiction.
Summary: Sam is forced to retell all the things that happened after the Fellowship had succeeded in destroying the Ring. All the members of the Fellowship have their own problems. Darkness returns, and Love struggles to conquer all. But as the problems mount up to a peak, can they survive? And can Sam bear telling his audience the true story?
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Eyes are the Mirrors to the Soul
"Stop! Who passes into the threshold of Galadriel the Great?" snarled an orc, blocking the way of several dwarves on ponies, with his own band.
"We are a caravan of trading dwarves! Let us through scum!" said the leading dwarf viciously.
"If you were a true dwarf, you would have killed us on sight!" challenged the orc.
"We've had enough trouble with your disgusting kind! Now move out of our way!" roared the dwarf so loudly that spittle was flying out of his mouth.
"Disgusting eh? I'll show you disgusting you filthy midget!" said the orc, getting annoyed.
"NOW!" shouted a dwarf from behind the pack, and all the dwarves in sight ducked while several throwing axes whistled through the air, each hitting their mark.
"Well done my Lord!" said the arguing dwarf agreeably, getting up.
"You did a fine job Gedril! A fine job!" guffawed Gimli, giving an extremely satisfied look.
"Hide the bodies in the trees, we move on!"
Two Weeks Later
Aragorn washed his face with a splash of cold water from a trickle that went off the Anduin. Looking at his fragmented reflection, he saw nothing unexpected. His face, older, more guant, and darker than before, and the stubble of the beard, setting back in. His hair, in an attempt to look neater, had been tied back with a loose string, but was constantly slipping, and his nails had dirt under them. All...so normal, after all, in his heart, he was still a Ranger, not a King.
He smoothed his hair back with wet hands, then got up on his feet again, addressing a standing by messenger.
"Send that word to Eomer's men that we should reach the settled encampment at Emyn Muil by nightfall."
"Yes Sir!" said the messenger curtly, going off.
Gimli took a whiff of the air and crinkled his nose.
"Orc stench..." he said, obviously disgusted.
"Should we go ahead?" asked a dwarf.
"No, let them come" said Gimli,
One Month Later
Galadriel surveyed the area. Jagged rock points jutted out of every possible space, and she smirked.
"So this is where the great King Aragorn wishes to battle me...if that is what he desires, that is something I would be more than happy to fulfill"
She slid off her horse, and motioned to one of her elves.
"Unload the captives, keep them under Uruk-hai guard"
"Yes My Queen" said the elf curtly, and went away at a hurried pace to untie Elrond, and Legolas, and hand them over to the Uruk-hai.
Legolas opened one eye very slowly, and muttered a short apology as his fist shot out to catch the unfortunate elf's nose.
"Ai!" cried the elf, and Legolas swung another fist into the gut.
The elf gave him a funny look, a mixture of relief, fear, and anger as he went down and Legolas finished it with a short blow to the head. He felt a twinge of guilt in doing so, but doused it by thinking of Elrond, and untied the bonds holding him to the saddle of the horse.
"Wake up Elrond!"
He gave a shake and the Lord gave a very quiet moan. Legolas was no healer, his words, although he was of elvenkind, would not have the same effect as when a person such as Elrond would speak them. He was need help of another kind later, his first priority was to escape.
Dreamscape::
He was standing at the balcony, the fresh wind of Rivendell racing past him. His mind, like the wind, was loose, and wandering, and were abruptly jostled back into place when two arms enveloped him from behind.
"The view is breathtaking, no?" she asked.
"But you are so much more" he murmured.
"You flatter me" she said, and he placed his hands on hers.
Suddenly her hands became very hot and he gave a short cry as he pulled them back sharply.
"Celebrian-?" he asked, turning around.
"Did you honestly think this was escaping?"
This was not Celebrian, this was not her voice. His jaw set firmly.
"Get out, get away from here Galadriel"
He was trying to keep his calm, trying not to blown apart by the angry red aura of her presence.
"Don't be foolish Elrond, however, your attempts are...admirable."
This may have been Galadriel, but her features, alike to Celebrian, her movements, like Celebrian, and her eyes and voice, the same.
"Elrond, why are you talking to my mother? ...Is something the matter?" asked Celebrian.
She looked very worried and an unfamiliar crease went through her forehead.
"E-" she started, but he swallowed and cut her off.
"Nothing is wrong, I just wasn't paying attention" he said, although feeling confused and threatened by the sudden transformation.
"You look tense, let me-"
Her voice faded as she gave the Lord a massage to the shoulders. He couldn't relax, yet in his wife's touch, perhaps...maybe somehow, she had overcome Galadriel.
"Mmphhh--!"
He whirled around, with a grimace on his face, feeling a wetness on his back, between the shoulder blades. He ripped the dagger out with a fury and was about to stab the woman in front of him with it, stopping a centimeter in front of her eyes.
"Are you sure you want to do that?"
Her coy voice had come back, his hand hovered stiffly above her.
"Elrond, what-what are you doing?!" asked Celebrian, her voice filled in fear, on the edge of hysteria.
His eyes changed for a moment, his lip twitched and his hand made no motion to lower.
"Elrond?" she asked, tentative, and put her small hands around his dagger hand.
"Stop this" she said softly, and turned the dagger down very slowly.
He looked at her with penetrating eyes, and his hand trembled slightly.
"--"
He grunted and looked down at his hand. The dagger was now in his stomach, her hands over his, pushing it in. He pulled it out and slashed her shoulder deeply with it.
"ELROND!" she yelled in alarm, clapping a hand on her shoulder.
"DO NOT TOUCH ME! DO NOT TALK TO ME!" he roared and made another cut on her thigh.
She started to laugh, a crazy glint present in her eyes.
"Elrond! I-I'll fight you if I must!" said Celebrian, trying not to run.
"THEN FIGHT ME! FIGHT ME!" he shouted in insanity.
She couldn't bear it any longer, and without a true weapon, gave him a slap before running off. He felt the impact of her hand and then five sharp claws rip through his cheek. He saw her run, and then felt a pulling sensation on his arm. The dagger whirled through the air, and landed in the back of Celebrian's head. She toppled over and there was a dull thud as she came in contact with the floor. He still felt the blood flowing down his back and saw burry edges in his vision. He staggered over to the body and looked down.
It was not Galadriel.
It was Celebrian.
Celebrian.
He stared for a second and a whimpering sound escaped, he clenched his jaw and fell onto one knee, and Galadriel's laughing echoed throughout.