Synopsis:
In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one
was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin
has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no
memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that
separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them
and reclaim the one he lost?
Hi All! Here is Chapter 9 for your reading pleasure. Thanks to those who reviewed.
M – I realised when I started writing that the Elvish used by The Grey Company (www.grey-company.com) was slightly different from correct Sindarin but since my Elvish is non-existent, I decided to make a small exception and use GC elvish. I actually think that 'mellon nin' sounds better than 'mellonamin' (which I use) but I wanted accuracy in syntax and so took the easier way out. Sorry! (But I'm glad you're enjoying the story).
Also, can I just say that I too feel very sorry for my poor Valraen. Believe me, it pains me more than you know to see her in such a state. But… as I am merely relating the story to you as she tells it to me… I can do no more than wait to see with what happens with the rest of you. She does tell me however that it is a long and harrowing tale (as all true love is) and so to buckle up for the ride. ;)
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian)
belong to Tokien The Great.
None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser
on his glory.
Chapter 9: Before the gates of hell
"NO!"
An unearthly scream spewed forth from the houses of healing and into the halls beyond. Within the palace walls, those who heard were momentarily disorientated and stopped dead in their tracks.
The young kitchen hand carrying a pail of hot water carefully down the high-ceilinged hallway outside the chamber felt the hair on her waif-like arms rise. Saying a quick prayer to all the Gods she had ever heard of, she sped past the room as quickly as her legs would carry her.
The King's Guard standing resolutely outside the door paled beneath his heavy armour. Holding onto his shield and sword more tightly, he found himself wishing ruefully that he too could move as the young girl flew past him.
Further down, the old wife Ioreth, in the middle of a long-winded converstation with the Warden of the Houses, found herself for once silenced. The Warden shook his head sorrowfully as Ioreth looked horrified down the hallway towards the source of the scream.
"Not for all the world," the Warden said with a shudder as a young girl sped past him, slopping water on the floor as she went, "Not for all Middle Earth and all the gold within it would I be in that room now."
***
One person however wanted more than anything to reach the room that Valraen lay in. Legolas had felt the unnatural scream pierce the air and sink its talons into his heart. What colour was left in his fair skin had drained away. Breaking away from Arwen, he ran with all the speed his Elvish blood allowed him into the Houses of Healing.
Even Gimli, now trailing far behind, for once could find no words to lighten the mood and focused intsead on following his friend and the Queen as quickly as he could.
The site that greeted him when he finally made it into the chamber emptied his lungs of what breath he had left.
"Durin's beard!" he gasped as he stepped inside.
***
Rows of candles lined the wall behind the high-set bed where the pale figure of Valraen lay, her shallow breathing like the whisper of a distant wind. The light threw long shadows across her drawn features and her black hair, forming an eerie halo around her head.
Within the darkened room, the King sat slumped forward with his forehead pressed against his cousin's hand. Arwen had come to stand quietly opposite him on the other side of the bed, while Legolas stood unmoving behind the King, seeming for all the world like a man caught in a dark nightmare.
Aragorn did not seem to have registered their arrival.
Legolas move forward slowly, his eyes fixed on the woman before him. His eyes lingered on her features as he noted the faint bruising underneath her eyes and the moist paleness of her skin.
Hesitating for the briefest moment, he place his hand tentatively on the King's shoulder. "Aragorn," he said. "Amin naa sinome." Raising his head wearily, Aragorn turned towards his old friend. "Legolas," he breathed. "Thank the Valar."
Looking into the King's bloodshot eyes, Legolas felt the last of his resentment slip away. "Forgive me my friend," he said quietly. "I should have come sooner."
Relief flashed across Aragorn's tired features as he stood and placed a hand against his friend's face. "N'uma Legolas," he said earnestly. "It is you who should forgive me."
"Tell me," Legolas asked tensely. "How is she?"
Aragorn's eyes filled with pain as he turned to look at his cousin once more. "Not well," he said gesturing for Legolas to sit. "Not well at all." Aragorn moved across to the other side of the bed and stood beside his wife.
"I cannot reach her," he said, his frustration evident as he leant against the edge of the bed. "I have tried everything but to no avail and the more time passes, the worse it gets!" Pausing as his voice cracked with emotion, he lowered his head briefly before continuing.
"I do not know what demon haunts her dreams," he said. "But I do know that we are losing her."
A deadly silence filled the room as Arwen placed a protective arm around her husband's waist.
Legolas sat next to the woman he loved and took her pale hand in his. "Where are you a'maelamin?" he whispered so that no-one could hear. "Where have you gone that I cannot follow?"
If only I could walk in your dark dream, he thought I would fight Sauron himself to win you back… if I could only… walk… in your dream…
Legolas closed his eyes and cursed himself loudly in Elvish.
"Kaimel'triall," he said. "Why didn't I think of it before."
Arwen's gaze shot to Legolas, alarm registering in her eyes. "Mankoi ila," he said gazing steadily back at her. "I would go before the gates of hell itself to bring her back."
"Would someone mind telling me," came a voice from behind them. "What exactly you're talking about?" Moving away from the corner where he had been standing silently, Gimli stepped forward into the candlelight and looked at them intently. "And no more riddles," he said.
"Kaimel'triall," Arwen said quietly. "Dream walking. An ancient Elvish ritual…"
"And a dangerous one!" Aragorn interrupted angrily. "Absolutely not. I would not lose both my cousin and my dearest friend in one go."
"And what, pray tell," said Gimli, cutting Legolas off half-way through an angry response. "Might dream walking be."
Arwen turned towards Gimli, fatigue and grief showing in her face. "Our ancestors once practiced it long ago. But," she said, glancing worriedly at Legolas, "It has not been tried in many an age."
Seeing Gimli's uncomprehending stare, Arwen tore her gaze from the Elf opposite her. "A ritual," she continued. "To join two psyches as one in order to save one of them from the abyss of grief or madness. It takes a highly skilled practitioner of the form, one who possesses all the gifts of the Valar. It is so dangerous that even my father would not risk it to save my mother. The risk of losing both is always too high."
"Furthermore," she said, looking once more at Legolas. "I have never heard of Kaimel'triall with a human. I do not even know if it is possible."
Legolas felt frustration building as he stood up and looked at his friends. "Don't you understand?" he said urgently. "Don't you see? I have no other choice. We have no other choice."
He looked down at Valraen again and felt a fierce protectiveness in his very bones. He watched as her long lashes fluttered against her colourless cheeks and listened to her shallow breathing and realised that he could not lose her again. He would not. Not while there was still a chance that he could save her. Not while he lived.
"I will not let her die," he said. "Not again."
Arwen, Aragorn and Gimli looked at him silently. Finally, still looking concerned, Aragorn nodded resignedly.
"Very well," he said. "Tell us what you need."
***
In the dark abyss of her dream, Valraen sat in the middle of a grey desert, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head buried between her hands. A wild cyclonic wind blew dirt and sand in billowing clouds around her, covering her in layers of dust and turning her beautiful black hair a dull shade of grey. The clothes she wore had been reduced to grey rags that barely covered her slender form. Her bare feet were scratched and bleeding.
In the distance, a fell voice travelled on the wind.
"A…r…i…e…n…e…l… I know what you've done… Arienel. I know that you've killed. You are a murderer… Arienel … And you are mine …"
Valraen sobbed hoarsely as the wind echoed across the desolate plain.
"No… no…" she pleaded despairingly as she buried her head further into her arms. "Let me die… please just let me die…"
"Die Arienel? I think not," the voice said with a manic laugh. "At least… not yet."
**
Elvish translation c/- The Grey Company (www.grey-company.com)
Amin naa sinome = I am here
N'uma = No
Mankoi ila = Why not
Explanation of the word Kaimel'triallNeeding a word for my 'Ancient Elvish Ritual', I turned to the Grey Company dictionary and simply looked up the verb 'to dream' and the word for 'walking'.
To Dream = Kaimela
Walking = Triallien
Thus Kaimel'triall.
I originally played around a bit with Kaimelar-triallien and Kaim'triallien but thought this sounded bizarre and somewhat like a diseased foot (aka 'Ive got a bad case of the kaimelar-triallien') so I shortened it and voila!
…ahem… (cough)…