Disclaimer:
As I have been saying over and over again, it's all JRR Tolkien's … not mine.
Author's Note:
Chapter five … phew, I never thought I'd make it so far! Thanks for all the reviews once again! I was beginning to wonder whether this was going anywhere …
Firstly, thanks to the following people:
Daughter-of-sunlight: I know what you mean about Legolas 'never running out of arrows.' There is after all a reason why he carries around two swords as well, right? Heh. Thanks a lot for your review. I know the bit about Arwen was sad, but it's because she misses her father, but is reluctant to tell anyone about it, in case they think she's unhappy with Aragorn. She'll be alright soon, though. And I did wanted to make it funny with Gimli talking to the Orcs. I'm glad it worked too. Gimli seems the type that'll never be dampened in spirit, especially in a battle. Hope you enjoy this!
Tyrian Woodrose: Thanks a lot for your review! Hope you love this chapter too! And once again, thanks for telling me about the spelling of Erestor's name.
Mandos is the name of the dwelling in which Námo of the Fëantúri live in, although he is also referred to as 'Mandos' as well. I know I should probably use his real name of 'Námo' in this story, but somehow, I think 'Mandos' sounds better. In any case, you'll probably come across both names, so forgive me, as I rage war with myself to settle on one name. (I honestly like Mandos better, though) The same thing goes for Mandos/Námo's brother, Lorien/Irmo.
Chapter Five: Arrival
Manwë, High King of the Valar, was seated on the grass, his face peaceful, quite the opposite to the turmoil his mind was in. Beside him sat Varda Elentári, the High Queen of the Valar, and around them sat the other Valar, Irmo, Nienna, Tulkas, Oromë, Yavanna, Aulë, Estë and Vana. Before them sat Melian the Maiar, her eyes closed as she concentrated on her song. Her voice seeped into the hearts of the mighty Valar, easing the worries in them little by little.
That was the power of Melian the Maiar. She had the most beautiful voice in the whole of the world – both in Valinor, and in Middle-Earth. It was she that had taught the nightingales their song and gave them their voices. And it was also she that was the mother of the fairest child of Ilúvatar, Luthien Tinúviel.
Melian sang of hope and of courage … mixed together with the element of happiness and peace, which Manwë thought to be quite ironic. If Darkness were to rise again, the people of Middle-Earth would need all the elements Melian sang of in this song. Varda sighed beside him as her heart was robbed of its worries, the magic of Melian achieving its purpose.
Looking around his brethren, Manwë observed their faces. Some wore faces of contentment, whilst others wore faces of anxiety. Yavanna Kementari, queen of the Earth, wore a look of anxiety on her face, making Manwë wonder if they should really be relaxing in Lórien, the gardens of Healing belonging to Irmo, or Lórien as he was called after the name of his dwelling.
The magic of Melian made its way into his heart, and he found himself relaxing … forgetting, for a while, the fears that plagued him …
The arrival of Mandos pulled him rather harshly out of his relaxation. At first, he was pleased to see Námo, the doomsman of the Valar (also called Mandos after his dwelling). The rather young Valar, in terms of the rest of them, rarely left his Halls for relaxation.
"Námo … it is good to have you with us," he said, smiling at him. "Have a seat." He gestured to the grass they were sitting on. Melian did not stop her song, although she focused her eyes on Mandos. His face was pale – it was naturally pale, but to her it seemed to be paler than usual, and his light brown eyes looked troubled as he gazed at Manwë. She knew immediately that something was wrong, and put forth her magic on him, hoping to help him ease his troubles.
Mandos glanced around at the other Valar, wondering whether it was right to speak in front of them. "There is no time to relax," he said, simply, hoping Manwë would get his meaning.
It appeared that he did. Manwë was pulled out of his state of relaxation, and he stared at Mandos, his keen blue eyes unsure of what he was implying; had darkness risen again? Or had something else happened?
The other Valar did not miss the look of weariness that passed across Manw's face, and they looked on, surprised.
"Is something the matter, Manwë Súlimo?" asked Yavanna, turning her green eyes on him. Varda looked away, having a feeling she knew what Mandos was trying to say. She could only think; I knew that this would happen.
"Why is there no time to relax?" asked Oromë, the Hunter. "Come, Námo, stand not like you are on the brink of death … sit down. And where is Vairë?" Mandos paid him no heed. Nienna the Weeper, his sister, however, rose from her place, her eyes closed in thought. Manwë observed all of this, before standing up himself. He looked at the other Valar who were still seated, and looking confused.
"Fear not, nothing is wrong," he said, in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "I have some matters to discuss with Námo … and with Nienna. Rest where you are, we will return soon." With that, he walked away from them, with Mandos and Nienna following him.
"Elentári, do you not know what is going on?" asked Yavanna, turning to her friend. Varda shook her head.
"I do not," she said. Irmo stared after his siblings, a thoughtful expression on his face, before his wife, Estë laid her hand on his, breaking him from his reverie. He smiled at her before turning to the troubled group.
"Manwë told us not to worry, so we should do as he says," he said, lightly. "Come let us listen to Melian whose singing is not being appreciated." Nodding in silent agreement, the Valar turned back to Melian.
Meanwhile:
Manwë stood before Nienna and Námo, his face troubled. Seldom did anyone travel to the Halls of Nienna, which were in the far West of Valinor, and in which Nienna dwelt alone.
"Then … you are certain that Ilúvatar knows of what we planned?" he asked, looking at Námo. He nodded slowly.
"Yes, just as she completed her re-incarnation," he said. Manwë stared at the siblings, his mind reeling.
"What did he say?" he asked, at last. Námo shivered slightly as the icy words of their Father repeated themselves in his head again. "Námo?"
"He said that he knows of our plans and that he forbids us to carry on with them," said Námo slowly. "He said that he will take means to deal with the matter if we decide to go on with our plans."
"That does not give us much of a choice, does it?" asked Manwë, his mood turning into one of despair. "It was he that suggested that the House of Fëanor should never rest in peace until its curse is broken somehow … but how can the curse be broken if we do not let one the descendants of Fëanor out of the Halls of the Dead?"
"I know of no other way," admitted Námo.
"I would suggest that you continue with you plans," said Nienna suddenly. Manwë and Námo turned to face her, looking surprised.
"But if Ilúvatar asked us not to – " started Námo.
" – How can we possibly go against his wishes?" finished Manwë. Nienna opened her eyes and stared evenly at the two Valar in front of her.
"Our Father is planning something," she said, slowly. "What it is, I do not know, though I suspect that Námo knows of it, at least to some extent." Manwë turned to Mandos.
"Do you know what he is planning?" he asked. Námo let out a long breath, which was highly unlike him. His light brown eyes looked troubled again as he spoke.
"I was against doing what you asked me to do about the spirit of Ëariel … due to the simple reason that I knew that Ilúvatar was planning on releasing the Dead Spirit of another, to aid the peoples of Middle-Earth in what will hopefully be their last battle." He paused. "As you know, it is not my place to tell anyone what our Father is doing, as my foresight and knowledge are gifts from him, so I tried everything to get you to change your mind, but you would not."
"Yet you did so because you knew that by releasing her spirit, the Curse on the House of Fëanor would be destroyed," finished Nienna. Námo nodded slowly.
"Yes, that was my main purpose in doing this," he agreed. "For the spirit of Fëanor is burning with the desire to be released from my Halls. I cannot release him from my Halls as he will only gain more punishments, not only on the Noldor, but on all the Elves that Ilúvatar brought to being. The only way to appease him was to release the spirit of one of his line …"
"Námo, do you know who it was that Ilúvatar was planning on releasing from your Halls?" asked Manwë, suddenly. Námo shook his head.
"No, for he hid the identity of the person from me," he said. "It was almost as if he was daring me to tell you and do something else." There was a short silence in the room.
"Listen to me, Manwë, Námo," said Nienna, her voice serious. "You must continue with your plans, and release her spirit to Middle-Earth at once." Manwë shook his head.
"It is not sensible to go against his wishes, Nienna," he said. Nienna either didn't hear him, or chose to ignore him. He guessed it was the latter.
"Did you plan on sending her to Tirion first, to learn of the things that have happened in Middle-Earth recently?" she asked. Manwë nodded slowly.
"Yes, I did," he said.
"That cannot be done now … Ilúvatar will prevent that from taking place …" said Nienna, thoughtfully. "Your only option is to release her to Middle-Earth at once."
"Nienna, do you not understand what I have bee saying all this time?" asked Manwë.
"Nay, wait a moment, Manwë," said Námo, suddenly. "Finish what you were saying, sister." Nienna smiled at him.
"If you release her to Middle-Earth, desperate though he may be, Ilúvatar will not do anything to stop her," she said. "He knows that matters concerning Middle-Earth have nothing to do with him as Middle-Earth is under our governance. Matters concerning Valinor, on the other hand, do concern him." Námo was starting to understand what she was trying to say.
"You are correct," he said. "Yet can he not change her future?" Nienna nodded slowly.
"He can," she said. "Though … will it matter, as long as she lifts the curse off the House of Fëanor?" Námo said nothing. To him, that sounded harsh, using Ëariel to rid the curse on the Fëanorians, and then allowing Ilúvatar to do what he wished with her afterwards?
"What you say is reasonable, Nienna," said Manwë, after much thought. "Yet … is she ready to be released into Middle-Earth? And how can we achieve this without Ilúvatar noticing us?" Námo answered him.
"She has been completely re-incarnated," he said. "She will be ready to do the task that she was re-incarnated to do, although I will have to brief her in on her History, to aid her."
"Ilúvatar will not expect us to release her to Middle-Earth soon," added Nienna. "Therefore, if we release her immediately, he will be caught unawares." Manwë stared at the two siblings, his mind running around in circles.
"His wrath will be great when he finds out she is gone …" he said, at last.
"That is something we will have to face," said Námo.
"The worst that will be done is that Ëariel will be killed," said Nienna, comfortingly. Námo did not know why she thought that was comforting. It was far from it, and it did not please him in anyway, to have raised and re-incarnated this spirit only to find out that she had no real use except to lift the curse off the House of Fëanor.
"You are right," said Manwë sighing, telling them that he was doing this against his better judgment. "Námo … can you release her now?"
"Not until I have taught her a few of her History lessons, Manwë," said Námo, shaking his head. "Nienna? Will you help me with that?" Nienna nodded at her eldest brother.
"I will be glad to," she said. Manwë nodded.
"Very well," he said. "Tell me when you are done … and if you have any inquiries as to what you should tell her and what you shouldn't tell her, do not consult me, do as you think is best. After all, you, Námo, have the gift of foresight." Námo nodded.
"Indeed."
"Let us go back to the gardens of Lórien," said Manwë, lightly. "For Irmo will not be pleased that I have taken his siblings away from him." He smiled warily at Námo. "Let us go by your Halls and take Vairë along with us …"
In Middle-Earth:
Faramir looked around him, warily. Something was amiss. He knew it at once. Looking towards Elessar, Celeborn and the twin sons of Elrond, he could tell that they felt the same too. They had made haste from Imladris, at Celeborn's bidding, and had reached the former dwelling of Celeborn and Galadriél three days later, without coming across any Orcs.
They had departed from there, speaking to the remaining remnant of Elves that had refused to leave for East Lórien, Celeborn's new Kingdom. None of them had seen any Orcs around, and they were unwilling to go into battle again, something which infuriated Celeborn, although he knew that he had no right to get so angry. It was their choice after all.
They headed towards the Southern part of the forest of Mirkwood, in which the realm of East Lórien was. Their aim was to enter from the rear, surprising the Orcs from there.
"We should split up," said Elladan, reining his horse around to face the rest of the party. "That is our best option. Half of us can attack from the front, and the other half from the rear."
"How are we to know whether trouble has befallen anyone?" asked Faramir. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances.
"Elrohir and I will separate ourselves," said Elladan. "That way, if something happens to someone on my half of the army, Elrohir will know." Faramir and the men of Gondor gaped at the twins. How was that possible?
"Being twins gives us a method of communication that normal siblings do not have," said Elrohir, smiling. "And do not worry, Grandfather, this will work. Ask Estel, we used it all the time when we traveled with the Dunédain, hunting Orcs." Celeborn turned to Elessar for confirmation. The brown haired King of Gondor and Arnor nodded.
"They speak the truth, Lord Celeborn," he said. "This has never failed us before, nor do I think it will do so today." Celeborn sighed. He glanced around at the troops around him. There were 24 of them, 14 men and 10 Elves. He knew he had to split them equally, but he feared for them all. He did not want to send all the good warriors with Elladan, and leave Elrohir without any warriors to back him up … and vice versa. There was also the problem of the King of Gondor. If he were to die … he didn't need to even think of the chaos that would befall Middle-Earth and her inhabitants.
"Very well," he said at last. "Elladan, you and Faramir will attack from the rear, with them – " he separated five elves that had come with them from Imladris. " – and them," he said, separating five of the soldiers of Gondor. Elladan nodded.
"And you will be attacking from the front," he said. Celeborn nodded, hoping he had done the right thing. "We shall go now, Grandfather, there is not time to lose." Celeborn nodded.
"Take care, I do not think your father will appreciate you going to the Halls of Mandos before he does," he said. Elladan laughed.
"Honestly Grandfather, I am not a baby," he said. He nodded at Elessar. "Take care, brothers," he said to him and Elrohir, who nodded. With that, his team rode forward, heading through the dense forests. Celeborn watched them go, before he turned to the rest.
"We should get going too," he said.
The Halls of Mandos:
She sighed in contentment as she felt herself floating. She did not know where, or how, but she felt as though she was floating all the same. Her body felt light and numb, and her mind was in blissful rest. She supposed that this must have been the 'feeling after re-incarnation' that Nienna had told her about.
"Indeed, it is what I was talking about," said the soft voice of Nienna. She looked around her, startled. No one was there. "I will show myself when the time comes … but for the moment, do you remember what I told you? About the House of Fëanor?"
Ëariel nodded slowly, although her mind screamed at her as she forced it to remember. It was enjoying its rest. "Fëanor created many items of surpassing beauty and skill, such as the Palantiri and the Silmarils," she said. "However, a curse was placed on his house when he refused to surrender the Silmarils to the Valar and when he came out of his exile – forcefully – and slayed the peaceful elves of Alqualondë."
"And?" prompted Nienna.
"He and his sons swore a dreadful oath to slay whoever it was the owned the Silmarils – be it Valar, Maiar, Elf of Man – if they refused to hand them over," said Ëariel. "He hated Melkor for having killed his father, Finwë, and for stealing the Silmarils. Fëanor died in battle upon reaching Middle-Earth, and his sons kept to their oath, bringing ruin to those who possessed the jewels afterwards." She stopped.
Fëanor, in her opinion, sounded like one foolish elf, to allow a curse to be put on his House, just for the sake of three jewels. Then again … he had also been angry with Morgoth for slaying his father, whom he loved dearly and placed above all of his creations. In that way, what he did was justifiable … but then again …
"You are correct in both aspects," said Nienna, her voice soft. "He did it for his father and for the Silmarils. We cannot rightly blame him, although he did not follow our orders to stay put in the Undying Lands. He was stubborn, and it was that trait of his that brought him to his end, and brought the curse upon his family."
Ëariel nodded slowly, although her mind was asking her one question – the same question it had asked her when Nienna had started talking about Ilúvatar, the Valar, the Maiar, and, especially the House of Fëanor.
Why was she telling her all of this?
"It is for you to know," replied Nienna, reading her mind. "You will find out why later." Ëariel nodded. "But for now, it is time to take you – " Nienna stopped as a figure entered the 'chambers' the re-incarnated Elf was residing in. "What brings you here, brother?"
"It is time," said Námo, his face troubled. Nienna's spirit, which had been hiding whilst she had been talking to Ëariel, showed itself. Ëariel got her first good view of Nienna the Weeper, sister of Námo and Irmo. Her hair was dark, and her eyes were light, its deep pools showing age old wisdom. Turning her gaze to Námo, she wondered why his face was troubled.
"What is the matter, Námo?" asked Nienna, noticing that this wasn't the 'spirit' of her brother … it was her brother himself. Very rarely did her brother enter his realms in person, instead of sending his 'spirit.'
"He has found out," said Námo.
"What do you mean?"
"I was pondering on where we should send her re-incarnated form to, in Middle-Earth," he said. "And the barrier I made to block my mind from his was weakened. He knows we are still raising her. He will move swiftly."
"Have you consulted Manwë?" asked Nienna.
"There is no time," said Námo. "I have to release her now." Ëariel watched as Námo approached her, his face slightly troubled. Nienna stared on as he placed his arm on her head. A dark cloud covered them, clouding her vision as a chilly breeze blew around her. When it all cleared, they were gone. She waited patiently in the realm, knowing that he was sending her to Middle-Earth.
Ëariel felt as though she was spinning through the air. She saw many shapes and things go past her – or rather, she saw herself passing many shapes and things. She saw clouds, and stars, and the sea … and then she felt everything pause. She turned her eyes to Námo, knowing that it was he that made them travel such.
"You are not ready for this …" he said, observing her with a frown on her face. She merely blinked at him, her clear, light green eyes confused.
"Not ready for what?" she asked. Námo shook his head.
"Remember this, Ëariel Mirëlómë," he said. "In the end, no matter what their initial purpose was, it was greed that overcame the House of Fëanor. It was greed and lust that made them do what they did, and cursed them." He paused. "Do not go down the same path they did, at any cost." Looking at her face told him that she understood what he said about the greed, and that she didn't understand what he asked her not to do.
"I … will do my best … Lord Námo …" she said at last. Námo heard a loud voice calling to him … a familiar loud voice. From the look on Ëariel's face, he could tell that she heard it too. He shook his head trying to ignore the voice for a moment. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He thought of the lush, thriving green lands, of the now beautiful trees, of the peaceful settlement and its peaceful inhabitants … He felt Ëariel being pulled away from him and concentrated harder.
He heard her gasp and he felt her confusion. He felt a cool wind pick up around him and he opened his eyes. Through the curtains of darkness that surrounded them, he could see, behind Ëariel, wide, green lands with beautiful flowers blooming in them. He watched as she was engulfed by the lands … saw her confused expression, before the picture disappeared and darkness appeared once more.
He closed his eyes again and found himself facing his sister. "It is done," he said, answering her unasked question.
"Where did you send her?" asked Nienna, curious. Námo sighed.
"To the land in between the Blue Mountains and the Misty Mountains …" he said, not willing to speak further. Nienna frowned. From what she could remember, there was no elf dwelling in the land between the Blue Mountains and the Misty Mountains. There was only … the Kingdom of Arnor, and the Shire.
"He would have expected us to send her to an elf dwelling …" said Námo, answering the question that she was aching to ask him. "That is why I sent her elsewhere … where she will be able to adjust … until the time comes." Nienna nodded. He had his reasons for doing what he did.
"Come, you have wearied yourself. Let us return to your Halls." He nodded in agreement.
In East Lórien:
Elladan pushed his sword through the goblin's chest, his face grim as his keen eyes scanned the surroundings for anymore creatures. He saw a goblin sneaking up on one of the soldiers of Gondor, and, grabbing the dead goblin's sword, he flung it at the other goblin with deadly aim. It hit it in the middle of his head, killing him at once. The soldier flashed him a grateful smile, knowing it was him.
Faramir slew the last Orc from the group that had attacked him and looked around. There were dead Orcs and Goblins littered around the woods. He glanced at the Elves sent by King Thranduil, thanking the High Powers that they had come to aid their fellow kin as well. The group of 12 led by Elladan and Faramir would not have been able to fight the large hosts of Orcs and Goblins that had lain in wait for them.
"Nárrond," called Elladan, glancing at the Captain of King Thranduil's forces. "Did you see any of our comrades fighting as you made your way here?" The brown haired elf shook his head.
"No, we did not," he said. "We saw a few Orcs – probably waiting as backup – but that was it." Elladan's face fell. The kingdom of King Thranduil lay in the North of Mirkwood, whereas Celeborn's kingdom lay in the South. To get to them, Nárrond and his forces would have had to go past the entrance to Celeborn's kingdom … where Elrohir and everyone else should have been fighting.
Could something have happened to them? He shook his head. He would have felt it. Perhaps they were outnumbered and needed help …
"We must go to their aid," said Faramir, thinking along the same lines. Elladan nodded. He turned to the elves and men that had accompanied them from Imladris, and to the handful of East Lórien elves they had found struggling to keep their watch towers safe from the Orcs and Goblins.
"We move forward. Leave these corpses here for now," he said. "We must go to your King." They all nodded and began moving forward.
"Lord Elladan," said Nárrond. "Another force of ours was heading to the entrance to Lord Celeborn's kingdom. We merely took an alternate route. Perhaps your friends are alright …" Elladan smiled at him.
"Let us hope they are," he said, knowing in his hand that he was right. He would have felt something – Elrohir would have tried communicating with him if something was wrong.
At the same time:
Elrohir looked around him, his face expressionless as he realized, with a sinking feeling, that they were outnumbered. Three out of the seven soldiers of Gondor had been slain – that much he had noticed, but had been unable to help them, being too preoccupied about avoiding some nasty Goblins from separating his head from his neck – permanently.
He gritted his teeth as more goblins entered the clearing. This wasn't looking good. The Orcs had gotten smarter, he thought wryly as he watched the goblins approach him, evil grins on their faces. Why did he think that way? It wasn't everyday that the Orcs thought of separating the armies of their enemies and attacking them separately, picking on the Men first.
He looked around wildly. He caught the flash of silver somewhere in between a few trees and knew that at least his grandfather was somewhere nearby. He raised his sword, his hand steady, as Orcs joined the Goblins heading towards him. This wasn't looking very good … at all …
The army of foes was almost upon him, when arrows came whizzing out of nowhere, hitting them. Elrohir watched in stupor as goblins and Orcs fell down, pierced with arrows. The remaining creatures he effortlessly killed, moving into action quickly. Once he was done, he looked around to see elves jumping out of the mallorn trees that grew around him.
One look at their clothes told him, with glee, that they were elves of King Thranduil. He smiled at them. "I do not know how to thank you, my friends," he said. They grinned back at him.
"How about we destroy the rest of these foul creatures before thinking of that?" suggested an elf with blond hair. Elrohir nodded.
"That would be nice," he said, grinning and sprinting lightly towards where he had seen flashes of silver. This was turning out to look quite good … he only hoped that Elladan and Faramir were doing just as well.
A few moments later, the fighting had ended. Elrohir stared in disgust at the Orcs and Goblins that littered the grass in the forests. Looking around, he saw some injured elves – the elves that had been defending their kingdom were the only ones that were injured, having fought for long.
"Elrohir, no news from Elladan?" asked Celeborn, walking up to his grandson. Elrohir shook his head slowly. Celeborn looked slightly worried.
"I wonder …" he whispered. Elrohir pretended that he didn't hear him as he concentrated all his energy on his twin, trying to communicate mentally with him. He felt his head throb with the build up of energy he was summoning into it, to form the link. The elves and men around him watched as a few beads of sweat formed on his face. They had never seen anything of the sort before – except for Elessar.
Elrohir fought away the panic that was rising up inside him. So far, he had not managed to create a link with Elladan. It worried him. Had something –
«-Happened to me? No, I'm sorry to disappoint you but I'm fine»
A relieved smile appeared on Elrohir's face as he heard his brother's voice, sounding amused.
«Oh well, there's always next time» He was sure he felt Elladan smile as well.
«Are you all alright?»
«Yes» He could tell him about the fallen later.
«Good. I'll meet you soon. Till then» Elrohir felt the link break off, and was thankful. His head had been hurting quite a lot during the whole thing. He turned to the others.
"They're fine," he said, smiling. Celeborn looked relieved. "He said they're coming here."
"Very well," said Celeborn, taking control. "All the injured elves form a line next to that mallorn tree over there." Everyone stared at him in surprise. "Well?" The elves moved hurriedly to where he had pointed. "The rest of you move away and perhaps you could make yourselves useful by clearing up this mess."
Elrohir raised an eyebrow at Elessar as they listened to Celeborn's orders. He wanted them to do what?
"Well? We don't have all day! I intend on having this mess cleaned up before we leave!" said Celeborn, glaring at Elessar and Elrohir. "And it would help if you hurried up!" Elrohir started his work, kicking a dead Orc away from the clearing as his eyes scanned an appropriate place to take the corpses to, and dispose of them.
The remaining soldiers of Gondor glanced at their king for orders. Shaking his head with a small smile on his face, Elessar nodded at them to get to work, joining the elves of Imladris and of Greenwood, while Celeborn tended to the injured.
When Elladan, Faramir and their troop reached them, they stopped in their tracks. It wasn't everyday that you got to see the King of Gondor and Arnor on his knees, rolling the dead corpses of Orcs and Goblins away from the clearing they were in. And it wasn't everyday that you got to see soldiers of Gondor doing the same, looking close to tears as the smell of rotten blood and dead corpses reached their noses, or the elves of Greenwood laughing and doing the same.
"Well … everyone looks like they're doing well," said Elladan, his voice the sound of twinkling bells amidst the heavy atmosphere. Everyone turned to look at him and the rest.
"Well, well, looks like we have more helpers," said Elessar, a smile on his face. Elladan laughed.
"No can do, you look like you're having too much fun," he said, grinning. Nárrond did the same.
"I don't believe I gave you permission to talk, Estel!" snapped Celeborn, from his place tending the injured elves. "I don't care if you're the King of Gondor and Arnor or if you're the King of your dreams. I want my dwelling cleaned of these creatures!"
"Rulers of kingdoms should clean them up themselves …" muttered Elrohir, appearing in the clearing looking dirty and grumpy. His grumpiness worsened as he saw his brother grinning.
"What was that Elrohir?" called Celeborn, turning his attention away from an elf. "Care to repeat it again?" Elrohir shook his head, still muttering under his breath. Elladan laughed again, this time with Faramir. "And you, Elladan! What are you doing just standing there? These injured elves are more than a handful. Let's see what your father has taught you."
Still grinning, Elladan moved towards his grandfather. Yes, he'd show him what his father had taught him … and why his father was considered the best Healer to have lived in Middle-Earth during the Second and Third ages.
Later:
"Who's she?"
"I don't believe this …"
"Believe what?"
"She's an elf."
"You're … serious?"
"Rosie, I've seen elves before, remember?" Rosie stared at her husband, unable to understand what an elf was doing … here. Her husband, however, had kept the bags of groceries he had in his hands on the ground, and was kneeling down next to the still figure of the elf. He took her hand in his, feeling for a pulse. "She's alive …" he said, sounding relieved.
"But … what's she doing here?" asked Rosie, kneeling down next to him, noticing the unusual and beautiful colour of the elf's hair. Sam shook his head.
"I don't know," he said, looking back at the elf. "But – " He was cut off when a small moan escaped the elf's lips. Rosie and Sam stared at the elf, Rosie half afraid, and Sam wondering whether the elf was in pain. They watched as her eyes fluttered open, and as she gasped and sat up straight, startling the two hobbits. She looked around wildly, not needing to be smart to figure out that this wasn't the Halls of Mandos.
As she turned around, her gaze landed on the two hobbits kneeling down beside her. Her light green eyes widened as she continued to stare at them in awe. The first thought that ran through her head was; they're so small. One of the small creatures, a male, had curly light brown hair, and was rather plump. The other, a female, had brown hair … and was wearing a look of fright on her face as she looked at her.
It was then that it hit her – they must be afraid of her, for her size. She attempted to smile at them as a cool breeze blew her silvery-golden hair around her.
"Do not be afraid …" she said, softly. "I will not harm you …" The male nodded, smiling awkwardly at her.
"I know you won't," he said. "You're an elf … and elves don't harm people." She smiled at him, despite the dizziness that was swimming around her head.
"Where … am I?" she asked, fighting off the dizziness. Sam and Rosie exchanged glances.
"You're in Hobbiton," said Sam. "In the Shire." The elf stared at him, puzzled.
"Hobbiton? The … Shire?" she echoed. Sam nodded.
"Yes," he said, frowning slightly as he realized that she didn't understand. "Perhaps it would help us explain this to you if you tell us where you're from," he said, hoping to tell her where the Shire was in relation to her home. She blinked twice, his request running around her mind.
Where was she from? The Halls of Mandos?
"I … I do not know …" she said, at last, getting the feeling that he wouldn't know what the Halls of Mandos were. Sam stared questioningly at her. Looking at her face and eyes, she didn't seem to be lying about saying she didn't know. She looked rather confused and … lost.
"What do you mean you don't know?" asked Rosie, suddenly, not meaning to sound so rude. "Don't you know where you lived before you … came here?" The elf turned her green eyes to Rosie.
"I … was in the Halls of Mandos before I … came here …" she said, at last. Rosie and Sam exchanged confused glances. Halls of Mandos? Where was that? Was it an elf dwelling? Or was it made up?
An idea popped into Sam's mind. Perhaps she was from the West – from the Undying Lands that … Mister Frodo had sailed to …
"Are you from – " he was cut off again when he saw the elf double over, gripping her head as nausea rose up inside her. Her head was killing her with dizziness. "Er … my Lady?" asked Sam, meekly. "Perhaps you should rest for a little while …" The elf nodded slowly, trying to smile but not being quite able to.
"Can you stand?" asked Rosie, seeing she really was in some sort of pain?
"I … can try …" said the elf, smiling weakly at her. Sam and Rosie stood up, helping her when they could.
"We'll take you t Bag-End … you should be able to rest there, and it's not too far from here," said Sam, looking at Rosie for approval. She nodded, although her mind was busy thinking where they could let this elf sleep. Perhaps … if they pushed two or three beds together, she would be able to lie down sideways …
"T … Thank you …" said the elf, fighting her dizziness back as they walked to 'Bag-End' as she knew that they wouldn't be able to carry her there if she collapsed.
Author's Note:
Phew … I was wondering whether or not I should include this last bit, but I thought, why not? I hope I didn't ruin it by including that!
Reviews are most welcome!
Hope you enjoyed this!
Till next time,
Siriusgirl1