Author's Note: This chapter is sort of confusing, I suggest if you have not
read The Silmarillion to at least attempt to understand it. Thanks!
In this chapter, you Silmarillion freaks will find out how Totholain is 30,000 years old when he is just an Elf. or is he?
Chapter 10
Totholain sighed as he explained to a naïve Elf for the fourth time how to maneuver his horse around the terrifying obstacle. The stallion stopped and balked, throwing its rider to the ground.
Totholain shook his head and caught the horse before it ran into the woods.
"He doesn't trust you," Totholain said to the embarrassed Elf as he got up and dusted himself off.
"You have to feel his movements, his thoughts, his actions. If you and the horse don't become one, then you may as well stick to walking." Totholain patted the horse and turned towards the remaining Elves.
"Next?" he bellowed, scanning the crowd. No one stepped forward. Totholain exhaled a long breath of frustration.
"I suppose that you are all too scared to attempt this? Do I have to show you myself?" No answer.
Totholain swung up onto the horse and settled deep into the saddle. He urged the stallion towards the scary object. The horse started to tremble slightly under his weight as it eyed the obstacle. Totholain patted its neck and kept him moving forward.
"Whoa, boy," he said softly. The general closed his eyes, feeling the horse move underneath him. "One step at a time."
Totholain opened his eyes. The horse had passed the object without anything more than a snort. He smiled and got off the horse.
"That's all you have to do," he said. "Trust the horse, and he will always trust you. Now who would like to try?"
Gabriel raised his hand. "I would, sir," he answered. Totholain acknowledged him with a nod and helped him on to the horse.
"It is not hard. Just let the horse know you understand his fear and can help him overcome it. When you are out in battle and a horse spooks, and he does not trust you, you are good enough dead. Everyone understand?"
~ They better be able to understand. I won't always be there to instruct them. ~
Murmurs of "yes," rippled through the crowd.
"Okay. Gabriel, lets get started."
****
Laurelin found her birth father strolling around in the gardens one last time. He was leaving in a couple hours, and she wanted to tell him that she forgave him.
"Father," she called gently, trying to sound as sweet as possible. "Father, I forgive you."
The Chief Guard turned, his face laden with sadness. "Nay, you do not want to forgive me. I have been an insolent and cruel person to you ever since your mother died. It was not your fault. Fate takes part in all of our daily lives, and we can do nothing to alter it."
"Yes, Father. We must live in the future." She sat down on a cool, hard bench. Beautiful flowers were blooming all over it.
"Living in the future can be fatal. Laurelin, just because we are immortal does not mean we are invincible."
"Of course not! We are the farthest thing from being invincible!"
"We do, however, have a weakness that other races do not. If we hold enough grief in our hearts, we will die."
"I know. It is a very unfortunate thing to be laid upon us, but it has been. We can't change who we are."
"No. We sure can't," her Father said sorrowfully. "Um, I am concerned for you," he blurted.
When I leave, how can I be sure that you will be taken care of? I mean, I know that Legolas will treat you like a goddess, and so will Thranduil. But Totholain. I sense a deep, dark energy in him that is troublesome to my mind. Thranduil has felt it too."
~ So have I ~
"I think he is just really stressed out. He has a host of 500 Elves to get to Rivendell with only Glorfindel and Isitur's help. Anything like that can tire you out."
"I guess. But I just wonder if he is trying to keep you from something, something that could be good or bad. That is not wise."
"Father, I would give Totholain a break. He needs one."
~ You aren't my Father. I might refer to you as one, but you aren't. Totholain is. ~
The Chief guard sat beside Laurelin and took her hand in his palm.
"We all do."
****
Totholain stood out in the gardens. Laurelin's father had just left for Valinor along with a couple other Elves who were departing also. Laurelin had been extremely upset; Legolas had held her most of the time after her father was gone. Totholain knew that neither Legolas nor Laurelin would ever see those Elves again. That was not their fate.
Out of nowhere, one single tear slid down his cheek. He didn't even bother to wipe it away.
Totholain looked up at the stars, imagining that the Valar were in the sky, stalking over him.
"When is my time?" he cried, his voice splitting the air.
"What is my purpose? I hate you all for destroying these young lovers' lives. They deserve to live for many more an Age. But you are going to take them away before they can even start to live. Well, I will tell you this. I won't have it. You may kill me, but I am going to tell her, and there is nothing you can do."
He spun on his heel and was about to go inside when he heard a slow, soft voice come up behind him. It made his blood run cold. He stopped dead, his body shaking. He then withdrew his sword, Glamdrigul, and prepared to face his attacker, knowing straight forward who it was. The sword started to shimmer a blazing red, in response to its master's anger. Totholain whirled around and found himself in front of the most terrifying spirit ever.
"Elbereth!" he screamed, as his ageless face went livid. "You CANNOT do this to me now!" he said, his hands trembling in rage. He charged at the Valar goddess, but an invisible force seemed to prohibit him from impairing her. He was hurled back against the hard stone.
"Don't do what, Totholain? I have warned you. You can never interfere with my plans. They may be cruel and unusual, but all of them have a purpose."
Totholain jumped to his feet. "You call planning to kill Legolas and Laurelin cruel and unusual? It's just my luck I figured out their fate. For now, I am the only one who knows. But soon, I am going to tell EVERYBODY in the entire realm of Mirkwood! Then your little schemes will not work!"
Elbereth laughed mockingly. "Totholain, you have forgotten who you are and why you are here. Your love of Laurelin has transformed you into a bitter Elf, not the mightiest of the Maiar. You are a Maiar, Totholain. Always remember that."
"I don't need to remember who I am. I am Totholain, Thranduil's General. That is my identity."
"No, Totholain, that is not who you are, nor why you are here. You were put here to save Laurelin from the darkness of her fate that horrible night so long ago when she was only a tiny Elf-child. You did your part. You rescued her. But now, you have no more power in her life. Meddling with fate is a foolish thing to do, Totholain. I thought you were wiser than this."
Totholain clutched his sword so hard his hands turned white. He was going to stay in Mirkwood, with Laurelin, even if it meant that he would have to be dead. The only way he could save her now was to save Legolas's own life. He knew that if Legolas didn't heed the warnings of not to go to Rivendell, he would die. Totholain had only one single option if he wanted Laurelin to survive. He quickly took it, knowing the full consequences of his actions.
"Tell me, Elbereth, do gods bleed?" he said, his eyes like burning like coals of fire.
"Totholain, no. I will not lose you to your madness. Come with me, back to where you belong. Do not give yourself up to save her."
"I love her," he said firmly, his eyes never leaving Elbereth's. "She is my daughter, and a father would die for his daughter. " He took a step back, and with one swift, non-hesitating movement, he plunged his sword deep into his heart. With a sickening thud, his wounded body fell to the ground.
Elbereth closed her eyes, grief over coming her. She faded away sadly as she heard Laurelin running through the garden, calling his name.
"Caled veleg ethuiannen," she told herself. {A great light has gone out}
With that final thought, she floated up into the heavens, her translucent head bowed.
"Totholain! Totholain!" Laurelin shrieked as she saw the general lying on the ground, bathed in his blood, the sword protruding from his chest.
She bent down next to his dying body, tears running down her cheeks.
"Totholain, what happened?" she sobbed.
He gasped and took a short, painful breath. "Love Legolas. Don't let him leave. You can't let him leave. Promise me that you will not let him leave? Promise me!"
Laurelin took his hand; it felt unnaturally cold. "I promise," she choked out, her voice breaking.
Totholain nodded stiffly.
"I love you, my daughter. I love you more than I have ever loved myself. Don't you EVER forget that," he said. He gasped again, he knew he was at the end.
"The rose," he whispered. "The rose will tell you his fate." Totholain then closed his eyes and never saw the light of day again.
Laurelin screamed. "NO! NO! You can't die! NO!" She shook the lifeless body.
"You're not dead!" she wailed. She hit him hard, again and again, but he didn't wake up.
"NO!!!!!" she cried out in despair, her tears mixing with the blood on the ground. Crying uncontrollably, she laid beside him on the wet stone. She buried her face in his blood- stained hair, trying to ease her pain.
"Please don't leave me."
****
The Seer Speaks.
Y'enillor morne
Tulinte I quettar
Hlasta! Qyetes
Hfirmain
The Ringspell.
~
The Seer Speaks,
Out of the Black Years
Comes the words
The Herald of death
Listen- it speaks to
Those who were not born to die
The Ringspell.
****
Legolas applied a fresh coat of gloss to his newly fixed bow. It had worked well today, but he wanted it to be kept in its best repair. He ran his hand along the smooth finish; checking it to make sure everything was in order. He placed the bow back on the table and sat quietly, thinking.
The light from the moon shone through his curtains, casting soft rays of shadows across the floor. Clearing his mind, he thought back to the days when he had traveled so very far with Gimli and Aragorn across the Plains of Rohan to rescue the two Hobbits, Merry and Pippin. He missed his friends, especially Aragorn, who had died 80 years before.
"That is the price for being immortal," he thought. "You live forever as your friends continue to die."
The moon's light was diminished suddenly. Legolas sat straight up in his chair. Something was not right. He could feel it. He ran to the door and opened it to see a distraught Lizule standing there, about to knock, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"What happened?" he demanded. Lizule opened her mouth, but no words came out. She took a deep breath and managed to say,
"Laurelin."
"Oh, by the Valar!" he bolted past her and out of the palace.
"It can't be that her father left, it just can't be," he thought in a rage of panic.
"Please don't let that be it," he said out loud as he flew into the gardens. A throng of Elves were standing in a circle around Laurelin. She was on the ground, hovering over something.
"Out of my way!" he bellowed, pushing all of the Elves aside. He gasped at the sight that he saw before his eyes.
Laurelin was lying by Totholain's dead body, her clothing stained in his blood. Legolas stood there, shocked.
"Are you okay?" he said, his voice unsteady.
She looked up at him. The pain and grief that was etched on her face was horrific.
"No," she said flatly. "He is dead."
Legolas's eyes grew wide. He saw that Totholain's own sword was stuck in his chest, which was quite frightening.
"Do you know who killed him?"
Laurelin closed her eyes, fresh tears working their way through her lashes.
"I didn't see." Legolas stepped forward and bent down next to her. Totholain's face was set in an image of peace, his eyes were closed and his hands were folded neatly across his torso. It was so peculiar, though. He did not understand.
Laurelin's one hand was still clutching his hair, as if she wouldn't move.
"We have to move him," Legolas said softly. "Let him go."
Laurelin shook her head fiercely.
"No. I will never let go."
"You must," Legolas persisted. "How would you like him to be remembered? We have to hold a burial, you know that. Leave him."
"No."
"Please, Laurelin, for Totholain. It is what he would want."
Laurelin glanced at the general. He was dead. There was no way to bring him back; no way that she could ever feel his presence again. The sadness tore at her insides and left her with a hollow feeling. She tried to think what Totholain would do if he were in her position, but her brain was numb and fuzzy.
She attempted to focus, but her mind blacked out and the last thing she saw was Legolas staring at her, his blue eyes extinguished. He was holding a sword covered in blood, and pulling it out of his side. She screamed, and then she knew no more.
In this chapter, you Silmarillion freaks will find out how Totholain is 30,000 years old when he is just an Elf. or is he?
Chapter 10
Totholain sighed as he explained to a naïve Elf for the fourth time how to maneuver his horse around the terrifying obstacle. The stallion stopped and balked, throwing its rider to the ground.
Totholain shook his head and caught the horse before it ran into the woods.
"He doesn't trust you," Totholain said to the embarrassed Elf as he got up and dusted himself off.
"You have to feel his movements, his thoughts, his actions. If you and the horse don't become one, then you may as well stick to walking." Totholain patted the horse and turned towards the remaining Elves.
"Next?" he bellowed, scanning the crowd. No one stepped forward. Totholain exhaled a long breath of frustration.
"I suppose that you are all too scared to attempt this? Do I have to show you myself?" No answer.
Totholain swung up onto the horse and settled deep into the saddle. He urged the stallion towards the scary object. The horse started to tremble slightly under his weight as it eyed the obstacle. Totholain patted its neck and kept him moving forward.
"Whoa, boy," he said softly. The general closed his eyes, feeling the horse move underneath him. "One step at a time."
Totholain opened his eyes. The horse had passed the object without anything more than a snort. He smiled and got off the horse.
"That's all you have to do," he said. "Trust the horse, and he will always trust you. Now who would like to try?"
Gabriel raised his hand. "I would, sir," he answered. Totholain acknowledged him with a nod and helped him on to the horse.
"It is not hard. Just let the horse know you understand his fear and can help him overcome it. When you are out in battle and a horse spooks, and he does not trust you, you are good enough dead. Everyone understand?"
~ They better be able to understand. I won't always be there to instruct them. ~
Murmurs of "yes," rippled through the crowd.
"Okay. Gabriel, lets get started."
****
Laurelin found her birth father strolling around in the gardens one last time. He was leaving in a couple hours, and she wanted to tell him that she forgave him.
"Father," she called gently, trying to sound as sweet as possible. "Father, I forgive you."
The Chief Guard turned, his face laden with sadness. "Nay, you do not want to forgive me. I have been an insolent and cruel person to you ever since your mother died. It was not your fault. Fate takes part in all of our daily lives, and we can do nothing to alter it."
"Yes, Father. We must live in the future." She sat down on a cool, hard bench. Beautiful flowers were blooming all over it.
"Living in the future can be fatal. Laurelin, just because we are immortal does not mean we are invincible."
"Of course not! We are the farthest thing from being invincible!"
"We do, however, have a weakness that other races do not. If we hold enough grief in our hearts, we will die."
"I know. It is a very unfortunate thing to be laid upon us, but it has been. We can't change who we are."
"No. We sure can't," her Father said sorrowfully. "Um, I am concerned for you," he blurted.
When I leave, how can I be sure that you will be taken care of? I mean, I know that Legolas will treat you like a goddess, and so will Thranduil. But Totholain. I sense a deep, dark energy in him that is troublesome to my mind. Thranduil has felt it too."
~ So have I ~
"I think he is just really stressed out. He has a host of 500 Elves to get to Rivendell with only Glorfindel and Isitur's help. Anything like that can tire you out."
"I guess. But I just wonder if he is trying to keep you from something, something that could be good or bad. That is not wise."
"Father, I would give Totholain a break. He needs one."
~ You aren't my Father. I might refer to you as one, but you aren't. Totholain is. ~
The Chief guard sat beside Laurelin and took her hand in his palm.
"We all do."
****
Totholain stood out in the gardens. Laurelin's father had just left for Valinor along with a couple other Elves who were departing also. Laurelin had been extremely upset; Legolas had held her most of the time after her father was gone. Totholain knew that neither Legolas nor Laurelin would ever see those Elves again. That was not their fate.
Out of nowhere, one single tear slid down his cheek. He didn't even bother to wipe it away.
Totholain looked up at the stars, imagining that the Valar were in the sky, stalking over him.
"When is my time?" he cried, his voice splitting the air.
"What is my purpose? I hate you all for destroying these young lovers' lives. They deserve to live for many more an Age. But you are going to take them away before they can even start to live. Well, I will tell you this. I won't have it. You may kill me, but I am going to tell her, and there is nothing you can do."
He spun on his heel and was about to go inside when he heard a slow, soft voice come up behind him. It made his blood run cold. He stopped dead, his body shaking. He then withdrew his sword, Glamdrigul, and prepared to face his attacker, knowing straight forward who it was. The sword started to shimmer a blazing red, in response to its master's anger. Totholain whirled around and found himself in front of the most terrifying spirit ever.
"Elbereth!" he screamed, as his ageless face went livid. "You CANNOT do this to me now!" he said, his hands trembling in rage. He charged at the Valar goddess, but an invisible force seemed to prohibit him from impairing her. He was hurled back against the hard stone.
"Don't do what, Totholain? I have warned you. You can never interfere with my plans. They may be cruel and unusual, but all of them have a purpose."
Totholain jumped to his feet. "You call planning to kill Legolas and Laurelin cruel and unusual? It's just my luck I figured out their fate. For now, I am the only one who knows. But soon, I am going to tell EVERYBODY in the entire realm of Mirkwood! Then your little schemes will not work!"
Elbereth laughed mockingly. "Totholain, you have forgotten who you are and why you are here. Your love of Laurelin has transformed you into a bitter Elf, not the mightiest of the Maiar. You are a Maiar, Totholain. Always remember that."
"I don't need to remember who I am. I am Totholain, Thranduil's General. That is my identity."
"No, Totholain, that is not who you are, nor why you are here. You were put here to save Laurelin from the darkness of her fate that horrible night so long ago when she was only a tiny Elf-child. You did your part. You rescued her. But now, you have no more power in her life. Meddling with fate is a foolish thing to do, Totholain. I thought you were wiser than this."
Totholain clutched his sword so hard his hands turned white. He was going to stay in Mirkwood, with Laurelin, even if it meant that he would have to be dead. The only way he could save her now was to save Legolas's own life. He knew that if Legolas didn't heed the warnings of not to go to Rivendell, he would die. Totholain had only one single option if he wanted Laurelin to survive. He quickly took it, knowing the full consequences of his actions.
"Tell me, Elbereth, do gods bleed?" he said, his eyes like burning like coals of fire.
"Totholain, no. I will not lose you to your madness. Come with me, back to where you belong. Do not give yourself up to save her."
"I love her," he said firmly, his eyes never leaving Elbereth's. "She is my daughter, and a father would die for his daughter. " He took a step back, and with one swift, non-hesitating movement, he plunged his sword deep into his heart. With a sickening thud, his wounded body fell to the ground.
Elbereth closed her eyes, grief over coming her. She faded away sadly as she heard Laurelin running through the garden, calling his name.
"Caled veleg ethuiannen," she told herself. {A great light has gone out}
With that final thought, she floated up into the heavens, her translucent head bowed.
"Totholain! Totholain!" Laurelin shrieked as she saw the general lying on the ground, bathed in his blood, the sword protruding from his chest.
She bent down next to his dying body, tears running down her cheeks.
"Totholain, what happened?" she sobbed.
He gasped and took a short, painful breath. "Love Legolas. Don't let him leave. You can't let him leave. Promise me that you will not let him leave? Promise me!"
Laurelin took his hand; it felt unnaturally cold. "I promise," she choked out, her voice breaking.
Totholain nodded stiffly.
"I love you, my daughter. I love you more than I have ever loved myself. Don't you EVER forget that," he said. He gasped again, he knew he was at the end.
"The rose," he whispered. "The rose will tell you his fate." Totholain then closed his eyes and never saw the light of day again.
Laurelin screamed. "NO! NO! You can't die! NO!" She shook the lifeless body.
"You're not dead!" she wailed. She hit him hard, again and again, but he didn't wake up.
"NO!!!!!" she cried out in despair, her tears mixing with the blood on the ground. Crying uncontrollably, she laid beside him on the wet stone. She buried her face in his blood- stained hair, trying to ease her pain.
"Please don't leave me."
****
The Seer Speaks.
Y'enillor morne
Tulinte I quettar
Hlasta! Qyetes
Hfirmain
The Ringspell.
~
The Seer Speaks,
Out of the Black Years
Comes the words
The Herald of death
Listen- it speaks to
Those who were not born to die
The Ringspell.
****
Legolas applied a fresh coat of gloss to his newly fixed bow. It had worked well today, but he wanted it to be kept in its best repair. He ran his hand along the smooth finish; checking it to make sure everything was in order. He placed the bow back on the table and sat quietly, thinking.
The light from the moon shone through his curtains, casting soft rays of shadows across the floor. Clearing his mind, he thought back to the days when he had traveled so very far with Gimli and Aragorn across the Plains of Rohan to rescue the two Hobbits, Merry and Pippin. He missed his friends, especially Aragorn, who had died 80 years before.
"That is the price for being immortal," he thought. "You live forever as your friends continue to die."
The moon's light was diminished suddenly. Legolas sat straight up in his chair. Something was not right. He could feel it. He ran to the door and opened it to see a distraught Lizule standing there, about to knock, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"What happened?" he demanded. Lizule opened her mouth, but no words came out. She took a deep breath and managed to say,
"Laurelin."
"Oh, by the Valar!" he bolted past her and out of the palace.
"It can't be that her father left, it just can't be," he thought in a rage of panic.
"Please don't let that be it," he said out loud as he flew into the gardens. A throng of Elves were standing in a circle around Laurelin. She was on the ground, hovering over something.
"Out of my way!" he bellowed, pushing all of the Elves aside. He gasped at the sight that he saw before his eyes.
Laurelin was lying by Totholain's dead body, her clothing stained in his blood. Legolas stood there, shocked.
"Are you okay?" he said, his voice unsteady.
She looked up at him. The pain and grief that was etched on her face was horrific.
"No," she said flatly. "He is dead."
Legolas's eyes grew wide. He saw that Totholain's own sword was stuck in his chest, which was quite frightening.
"Do you know who killed him?"
Laurelin closed her eyes, fresh tears working their way through her lashes.
"I didn't see." Legolas stepped forward and bent down next to her. Totholain's face was set in an image of peace, his eyes were closed and his hands were folded neatly across his torso. It was so peculiar, though. He did not understand.
Laurelin's one hand was still clutching his hair, as if she wouldn't move.
"We have to move him," Legolas said softly. "Let him go."
Laurelin shook her head fiercely.
"No. I will never let go."
"You must," Legolas persisted. "How would you like him to be remembered? We have to hold a burial, you know that. Leave him."
"No."
"Please, Laurelin, for Totholain. It is what he would want."
Laurelin glanced at the general. He was dead. There was no way to bring him back; no way that she could ever feel his presence again. The sadness tore at her insides and left her with a hollow feeling. She tried to think what Totholain would do if he were in her position, but her brain was numb and fuzzy.
She attempted to focus, but her mind blacked out and the last thing she saw was Legolas staring at her, his blue eyes extinguished. He was holding a sword covered in blood, and pulling it out of his side. She screamed, and then she knew no more.