A/N: There are some parts of the Prologue that some readers might find disturbing. If you think you might be disturbed by the graphic description of a person's possession, consider skipping this chapter. The chapters that follow will be more of what we/you are used to - you know ... Orcs, Wargs and general bad guys. LOL!
Possession
Prologue
Chapter 1
The man's day had started shortly after the sun had risen and had ended just before it had set and now, finally, he was on his way home, tired and hungry and wanting nothing more than to sit in front of a fire with a tall glass of stout ale in his hand. The man smiled to himself. His beautiful wife would meet him at the door and even before he had a chance to say hello, she would wrap her arms around his neck then kiss him as only a wife could and afterwards, she would draw him into the warm comfort of their home, take his cloak and sit him in a comfortable chair in front of the warm fire. His young son and young daughter would then run to him, attaching themselves to his legs, both calling for their father to hold them. Yes, it would certainly be good to get home.
He was just three blocks away from the warmth, love and safety of his home and family when he suddenly became aware of a figure standing in an alley off to his right. At first, he thought his tired eyes were seeing things but after blinking several times, then squinting, he could still see someone standing there. Although the figure did not try to run away or call for help the man could still sense an almost overwhelming need for assistance, and being the kind hearted soul that he was, he could not pass this person by without seeing if there was anything he could do. He turned and entered the alley.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
The Elf was glad when he reached the small town of Lanthir because it meant he was no more than a single day's hard ride from Imladris. He had just finished delivering a dispatch to the Lord and Lady of Caras Galadon from King Thranduil of Mirkwood, when Lord Celeborn had asked if he would mind making a stop at Imladris on his way home. No elf would ever turn down a chance to visit Imladris with its legendary power to soothe and comfort the weary traveler. However, the young courier was also a friend of Elladan, Elrohir and Estel and knowing this would be an official opportunity for a visit with the three brothers, he had been eager to comply with Lord Celeborn's request.
He had known the sons of Elrond for millennia, Elladan and Elrohir, that is. The human child Lord Elrond had taken in as his own, Estel as he was known to the elves, he had known since the young man was about four years old, not long after he had become a member of the Peredhil family. Now, whenever he had a chance, he would visit Imladris for there was never a dull moment whenever any of the Noldor Lord's sons were around.
The elf rode directly to the stables and after thanking the weary animal for the safe journey he surrendered him to the capable hands of the stable keeper with the promise that he would be well-taken care of. Then, grabbing his pack as well as the message pouch, the travel-weary, elven courier began the short walk to the Inn.
He was somewhat surprised at how quiet the town was. The sun had just slipped passed the top of the mountain range and the dinner hour had not yet begun so there should have been more humans about although none had passed him since he had left the stables. He let these thoughts go and smiled for he was nearing the Inn and the sounds of raucous laughter coming from inside the well-lit building signified that there was at least some life in this quiet little town.
Then the quiet of the little town of Lanthir was suddenly shattered by a scream. Raw and primal, it was the scream of someone alone, terrified and in unimaginable physical and emotional pain and no being with a heart could have heard that cry and not answered it. The elf sprinted toward the alley on his right where the scream had come from, drawing his long knives as he ran.
When he reached the alley's mouth, he paused for a moment, casting his elvish senses out, looking for anything out of the ordinary, listening for footsteps, smelling the air. No experienced warrior would have just run blindly down the alley without first determining the type and extent of the danger that might be laying in wait for him.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
When the human had entered the alley, he had put aside, for the moment, all thoughts of hearth and home. There was someone down the dark passageway who needed his help and on his honor as a human, husband and father, he would help this person if he could. He was not a man who feared much of anything. Standing well over six feet in height, the years he had spent as a blacksmith in Lanthir had left him toned and fit. This had imbued the man with a large measure of self-confidence, but though his occupation left him stronger than most of the adult men in Lanthir, his heart was as big as he was and he had soon come to be known as the little town's 'gentle giant'.
He strode down the alley toward the shadowy figure slowly, yet with confidence and purpose, both hands held palms outward as a token of his peaceful intentions.
"Hey there, friend. Do you need some help?"
Though the figure made no reply, it took a few uncertain steps backwards.
"I'm not going to hurt you." His voice was gentle and soothing. "What's wrong with you? Are you hurt, or something? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
The human followed as the being in front of him continued to move away from him, further into the deepening shadows of the alley, not noticing just how deeply into the shadows he had gone. If he had noticed, perhaps he would have changed his mind about helping the silent stranger in front of him. If he could have just sensed the danger sooner.
Suddenly, the shadowy figure moved towards him and the big human only had time to take half of a step backwards before something hit him hard in the chest causing him to stagger. He clawed at his chest, for it felt as if someone had reached inside his body with cold slimy hands and was now playing with his intestines, his heart, his lungs and his brain.
It was a violation of both his body and his mind and he felt shamed by the touch of the unseen hands. He tried to fight off his attacker but though it seemed to him that he fought valiantly, in truth he had not physically moved from the time the unknown being had first possessed him. For some time, the emotional battle waged as the big blacksmith fought to rid himself of the hands that touched him, that played with him, that explored every inch of his mind.
Then the creature found his most treasured possession, that part of his mind that dreamed of his wife and remembered the freshly scrubbed and smiling faces of his children as they held their tiny hands up to him begging for their Daddy to pick them up and hold them. That part of him that remembered these feelings of love and laughter was lost forever, as his memories were turned into horrific pictures of mayhem, dismembered corpses, bloody battlefields and the gore of tortured and mutilated bodies. He saw his wife laying in a pool of her own blood, violated and dead. His children lay nearby, their eyes open and unseeing, their mouths stretched wide by unfinished and silent screams, their last actions before having been brutally murdered.
Then, in the real world, but still retaining these false memories, the human sank to his knees and began clawing at his own eyes in an attempt to rid himself of the pictures, these haunting memories, what he did not want to see. When he finally opened his mouth and began to scream, it expressed every bit of the sadness and horror he was seeing and experiencing in his mind.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
The elf's sharp eyes and other elvish senses could only detect one person in the alley, a large man who was on his knees on the ground. Cautiously, while taking great care to be vigilant for signs of the man's assailant or assailants, the elf moved toward the stricken human.
When he got to within two feet of the huddled figure on the ground, he paused, for as yet he could see no wounds on the man. His elvish eyes scanned the ground and the surrounding walls for any sign that might tell him what had befallen the human kneeling on the ground in front of him and saw nothing, no footprints, no signs of a struggle, no blood on the walls. Yet something had definitely happened to the big human who knelt hunched over himself in front of the standing elf. Then the man raised his head and screamed again, once more clawing at his eyes.
The elf was shocked and took an involuntary step backwards as he finally got a good look at the man kneeling before him. He watched in horror as the big man's hands tore at his already wounded face, digging once more into the already lacerated flesh. Sensing the human's intentions, the elf lunged toward him and tried to grab the man's hands but even his elvish reflexes were not quick enough to keep the human from tearing out his own eyes.
The elf knelt and grabbed the man's wrists in an attempt to keep the human from causing himself further harm, then he held the trembling and tortured soul close to his heart while he spoke softly and soothingly into the blacksmith's ears. After some moments, when it seemed the human had quieted somewhat, the elf turned the man's face toward him so he could look at the damage done to his eyes.
There was nothing that could be done and this knowledge saddened the elf. No more would this man look upon his family, nor would he be able to continue in his trade, or even watch the sun rise to greet the new day. The fair being shook his head. Then he thought he saw something else, something that passed so quickly across the human's face that he almost missed it. His brows knitted in a frown as he took the human's face between his hands and looked closer.
Without warning, the shadow that he had seen scurrying across the man's now vacant eyes, rather, where the eyes had once been, returned. Only this time, the shadow was no longer just a shadow for it had taken on the form of a skull with fiery eyes. This skull did not replace what belonged to the human, but laid itself over the top like a thin blanket, faint, yet definitely present.
Whatever it was that caused this once strong man to tear out his own eyes, was not only merciless but totally evil. The elf sensed this and was terrified by it. Startled and frightened, he released his hold on the human and fell backward.
As he sat in the darkened alley, staring at the human and trying not to think of the evil that the man's body held, the human died. One moment he was kneeling, staring in the elf's direction, and the next moment, he sighed, expelling all the air from his body before toppling forward.
After the human fell, the elf remained where he was, stunned by what he had witnessed. The horror was not over, for now a wispy, indistinct form began to rise from the dead body. The form, fairly reeking of evil intentions, remained stationary for a moment, then with a rush, sped toward the elf passing through him before disappearing into the blackness of the night beyond. For a few seconds the very air about the elf vibrated and the ground trembled beneath where he sat for a short time before all was still once more.
Slowly the elf rose until he once again stood, on very shaky legs, numbed by his experience, then without thought, he retrieved his long knives, putting them back in their sheaths. After picking up the message pouch he paused, unsure of what he should do next, what would be the right thing to do. Someone would want to know what had happened here but if he found someone and told them what happened, what he had seen, would they even believe him, or would they think him mad? Regardless, it would be the right thing to do, he decided.
As he turned he saw two figures, an old woman and a young girl, standing at the mouth of the alley watching him intently. The old woman showed no fear as he approached and continued to lean on her long staff. If he had not been in such deep shock from his experience, he would have seen that the look in the old woman's eyes was not one of judgement, rather, it was one of sincere compassion.
As the elf approached the two humans, he could sense the very old and very powerful aura of magic that surrounded the old woman. Somehow knowing that his strength was almost at an end, he tried walking toward the two on legs that seemed to have suddenly developed minds of their own.
To further complicate matters, villagers were starting to gather, having been attracted by the screams, and while some had come because they really wanted to help, others had come because they just wanted to know what was going on.
When the elf finally stopped in front of the woman, and looked down into the sad brown eyes, he knew that he had indeed found an ally. He had been lucky for the evil that had touched him, however brief that touch had been, could easily have taken his life and though he had survived, the experience had left him feeling cold, drained and diminished. What little strength he had left was quickly leaving him and he knew that he would soon pass out. Taking the message pouch, he held it out toward the old woman who took it, never taking her eyes off the fair being in front of her.
"Please, my Lady, see that this message is given to Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and let him know what has happened here. He will need to know. He will want to know."
Before the old woman could reply that she would do as he requested, the elf fell unconscious at her feet, finally overwhelmed by what he had experienced.
When the villagers saw the elf's body fall to the ground, they began to whisper among themselves. Murder was something that just did not happen in Lanthir and being a simple people, with simple thoughts, the citizens of the small town quickly assessed the situation in the only way they were capable of ... simply. They saw the dead blacksmith and they had seen the elf resheath his long knives then leave the body and move away from it toward the old woman. To them the facts were clear and could only mean one thing - the Elf had killed the man. Having made their misguided conclusions without investigation, the mob began to get angry.
The angry people surrounded the unconscious elf and pulled his unresisting body up from the ground where it was then held in that position by strong human hands. Seeing that he remained unconscious, the strong hands holding him upright shook him then slapped his face, in a crude attempt to revive him but when that failed and he remained limp and unresisting, they forcefully threw him to the ground then began arguing about what to do next. Most of those gathered favored immediate execution and the few who at first had advised caution, were soon finding themselves of one mind with the majority.
In the midst of the fire of their hearts and misdirected assumptions, a quiet, aged voice spoke and though none could explain how or even why they complied so quickly, every man there fell silent whether it was their will or not.
"Are these the fair and tolerant people of Lanthir that I hear speaking of killing a being without first hearing his side of what happened?"
The old woman looked each of the men directly in the eye, piercing them with blue eyes that held both snap and challenge, daring them to answer while in their turn, being full grown and independent individuals, they suddenly felt like errant children and lowered their gazes to the ground.
"While I know not the manner of our blacksmith's death, I can tell you this one fact with certainty, and that is, that this Elf had no part in it." With her cane the old woman motioned toward the unconscious elf at her feet. "When my granddaughter and I arrived here, the blacksmith yet lived and this Elf was trying to prevent him from further harming himself." She looked at the villagers for a response.
When no response was forthcoming and the villagers continued to look at their feet, and using all the powers of persuasion her voice and presence possessed, she looked at the villagers and bid them look at her. Ever so slowly heads raised and eyes locked onto hers.
"It would serve no mans' purpose to take the life of an innocent. This elf was only here to take rest before he continued his journey. Since it now appears that his continued presence will be a burden on the good people of this town, I will take him on the last part of his journey myself."
She took a step closer to the silent humans and fixed each of them with a steely gaze.
"I will need my wagon, the elf's horse as well as provisions for a one day journey. After that, I will need two strong men to 'gently', and I do mean gently, place the elf in the wagon. After he is made comfortable, I will leave this town and none of us will trouble you with our presence again."
The old woman did not have to express her wishes more than once and it was not but 30 minutes later when the wagon she had requested as well as the elf's horse and provisions arrived at the alley where she had continued to keep watch over the sick elf. Two of the villagers picked up the fair being and placed him in the back of the wagon on a pile of furs then covered him with more furs to stave off the evening's chill. Then the same two villagers carefully helped the old woman to climb into the back of the wagon where she settled herself beside the unconscious elf. Her granddaughter picked up the reins, spoke quietly to the horse after which the wagon and its occupants quickly disappeared into the darkness.
In truth, Lanthir would see none of these beings ever again.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
In Caras Galadon, the Lady of Light stood in her garden, her husband at her side. She had been troubled for some time by visions and indistinct glimpses of a threatening and brooding darkness. Though she would often consult her mirror for an explanation, it revealed nothing that could explain the uneasiness she felt.
Then without warning the earth trembled and the air about the pair vibrated. Galadriel put her hands over her ears as her Lord and husband steadied her.
"What is it, Galadriel? What have you sensed?" Celeborn waited for her to answer him.
When she finally turned toward him, he saw the fearful look in her eyes and was immediately concerned, again placing a steadying hand on her arm. Taking her husband by the hand, Galadriel turned and led him quickly toward their Council Chamber.
"Come husband, for a great evil is approaching and we must prepare." The two climbed the steps to the great flet that housed the Council Chamber of Lórien and after entering, quietly closed the doors behind them.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
The Hall of Fire was almost empty, for the hour was late. Elladan and Elrohir were busy chasing their younger human brother through the great Hall, for some prank or other had been pulled and the twins were trying to catch the perpetrator in order to exact the appropriate retribution.
Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor were seated before the fireplace with a glass of wine enjoying the quiet and comfort of both fine wine and good friends. The last month had been a difficult one for all of them, for the Last Homely House had been the host to both allies and later, those wounded in the battle fought with the Shadow Wraiths and their army of orcs. Now, the last of the recovered wounded had returned to their homes and all was quiet once more.
Anayah sat on one of the many couches in the hall, quietly reading a book and eating an apple while she completely ignored the antics of her brothers.
Even before the others in the hall felt the first vibration, Anayah screamed softly and clamped her hands over both ears, dropping her book and the half-eaten apple as she did so. Shortly thereafter, the others did the same as their sensitive Elven ears were assaulted by the powerful vibration that filled the room. The house trembled for a few seconds, shaking the paintings on the walls, vases of cut flowers that sat on various tables and other decorative furnishings. Then, as suddenly as the phenomena had begun, it ceased, leaving everything quiet and peaceful once again.
Those still in the Hall of Fire looked in Anayah's direction for they knew that the young she-elf had a tendency to shake things about when agitated. She met their gaze.
"Don't look at me." She said innocently. "This time it was not my fault."
TBC
Prologue
Chapter 1
The man's day had started shortly after the sun had risen and had ended just before it had set and now, finally, he was on his way home, tired and hungry and wanting nothing more than to sit in front of a fire with a tall glass of stout ale in his hand. The man smiled to himself. His beautiful wife would meet him at the door and even before he had a chance to say hello, she would wrap her arms around his neck then kiss him as only a wife could and afterwards, she would draw him into the warm comfort of their home, take his cloak and sit him in a comfortable chair in front of the warm fire. His young son and young daughter would then run to him, attaching themselves to his legs, both calling for their father to hold them. Yes, it would certainly be good to get home.
He was just three blocks away from the warmth, love and safety of his home and family when he suddenly became aware of a figure standing in an alley off to his right. At first, he thought his tired eyes were seeing things but after blinking several times, then squinting, he could still see someone standing there. Although the figure did not try to run away or call for help the man could still sense an almost overwhelming need for assistance, and being the kind hearted soul that he was, he could not pass this person by without seeing if there was anything he could do. He turned and entered the alley.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
The Elf was glad when he reached the small town of Lanthir because it meant he was no more than a single day's hard ride from Imladris. He had just finished delivering a dispatch to the Lord and Lady of Caras Galadon from King Thranduil of Mirkwood, when Lord Celeborn had asked if he would mind making a stop at Imladris on his way home. No elf would ever turn down a chance to visit Imladris with its legendary power to soothe and comfort the weary traveler. However, the young courier was also a friend of Elladan, Elrohir and Estel and knowing this would be an official opportunity for a visit with the three brothers, he had been eager to comply with Lord Celeborn's request.
He had known the sons of Elrond for millennia, Elladan and Elrohir, that is. The human child Lord Elrond had taken in as his own, Estel as he was known to the elves, he had known since the young man was about four years old, not long after he had become a member of the Peredhil family. Now, whenever he had a chance, he would visit Imladris for there was never a dull moment whenever any of the Noldor Lord's sons were around.
The elf rode directly to the stables and after thanking the weary animal for the safe journey he surrendered him to the capable hands of the stable keeper with the promise that he would be well-taken care of. Then, grabbing his pack as well as the message pouch, the travel-weary, elven courier began the short walk to the Inn.
He was somewhat surprised at how quiet the town was. The sun had just slipped passed the top of the mountain range and the dinner hour had not yet begun so there should have been more humans about although none had passed him since he had left the stables. He let these thoughts go and smiled for he was nearing the Inn and the sounds of raucous laughter coming from inside the well-lit building signified that there was at least some life in this quiet little town.
Then the quiet of the little town of Lanthir was suddenly shattered by a scream. Raw and primal, it was the scream of someone alone, terrified and in unimaginable physical and emotional pain and no being with a heart could have heard that cry and not answered it. The elf sprinted toward the alley on his right where the scream had come from, drawing his long knives as he ran.
When he reached the alley's mouth, he paused for a moment, casting his elvish senses out, looking for anything out of the ordinary, listening for footsteps, smelling the air. No experienced warrior would have just run blindly down the alley without first determining the type and extent of the danger that might be laying in wait for him.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
When the human had entered the alley, he had put aside, for the moment, all thoughts of hearth and home. There was someone down the dark passageway who needed his help and on his honor as a human, husband and father, he would help this person if he could. He was not a man who feared much of anything. Standing well over six feet in height, the years he had spent as a blacksmith in Lanthir had left him toned and fit. This had imbued the man with a large measure of self-confidence, but though his occupation left him stronger than most of the adult men in Lanthir, his heart was as big as he was and he had soon come to be known as the little town's 'gentle giant'.
He strode down the alley toward the shadowy figure slowly, yet with confidence and purpose, both hands held palms outward as a token of his peaceful intentions.
"Hey there, friend. Do you need some help?"
Though the figure made no reply, it took a few uncertain steps backwards.
"I'm not going to hurt you." His voice was gentle and soothing. "What's wrong with you? Are you hurt, or something? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
The human followed as the being in front of him continued to move away from him, further into the deepening shadows of the alley, not noticing just how deeply into the shadows he had gone. If he had noticed, perhaps he would have changed his mind about helping the silent stranger in front of him. If he could have just sensed the danger sooner.
Suddenly, the shadowy figure moved towards him and the big human only had time to take half of a step backwards before something hit him hard in the chest causing him to stagger. He clawed at his chest, for it felt as if someone had reached inside his body with cold slimy hands and was now playing with his intestines, his heart, his lungs and his brain.
It was a violation of both his body and his mind and he felt shamed by the touch of the unseen hands. He tried to fight off his attacker but though it seemed to him that he fought valiantly, in truth he had not physically moved from the time the unknown being had first possessed him. For some time, the emotional battle waged as the big blacksmith fought to rid himself of the hands that touched him, that played with him, that explored every inch of his mind.
Then the creature found his most treasured possession, that part of his mind that dreamed of his wife and remembered the freshly scrubbed and smiling faces of his children as they held their tiny hands up to him begging for their Daddy to pick them up and hold them. That part of him that remembered these feelings of love and laughter was lost forever, as his memories were turned into horrific pictures of mayhem, dismembered corpses, bloody battlefields and the gore of tortured and mutilated bodies. He saw his wife laying in a pool of her own blood, violated and dead. His children lay nearby, their eyes open and unseeing, their mouths stretched wide by unfinished and silent screams, their last actions before having been brutally murdered.
Then, in the real world, but still retaining these false memories, the human sank to his knees and began clawing at his own eyes in an attempt to rid himself of the pictures, these haunting memories, what he did not want to see. When he finally opened his mouth and began to scream, it expressed every bit of the sadness and horror he was seeing and experiencing in his mind.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
The elf's sharp eyes and other elvish senses could only detect one person in the alley, a large man who was on his knees on the ground. Cautiously, while taking great care to be vigilant for signs of the man's assailant or assailants, the elf moved toward the stricken human.
When he got to within two feet of the huddled figure on the ground, he paused, for as yet he could see no wounds on the man. His elvish eyes scanned the ground and the surrounding walls for any sign that might tell him what had befallen the human kneeling on the ground in front of him and saw nothing, no footprints, no signs of a struggle, no blood on the walls. Yet something had definitely happened to the big human who knelt hunched over himself in front of the standing elf. Then the man raised his head and screamed again, once more clawing at his eyes.
The elf was shocked and took an involuntary step backwards as he finally got a good look at the man kneeling before him. He watched in horror as the big man's hands tore at his already wounded face, digging once more into the already lacerated flesh. Sensing the human's intentions, the elf lunged toward him and tried to grab the man's hands but even his elvish reflexes were not quick enough to keep the human from tearing out his own eyes.
The elf knelt and grabbed the man's wrists in an attempt to keep the human from causing himself further harm, then he held the trembling and tortured soul close to his heart while he spoke softly and soothingly into the blacksmith's ears. After some moments, when it seemed the human had quieted somewhat, the elf turned the man's face toward him so he could look at the damage done to his eyes.
There was nothing that could be done and this knowledge saddened the elf. No more would this man look upon his family, nor would he be able to continue in his trade, or even watch the sun rise to greet the new day. The fair being shook his head. Then he thought he saw something else, something that passed so quickly across the human's face that he almost missed it. His brows knitted in a frown as he took the human's face between his hands and looked closer.
Without warning, the shadow that he had seen scurrying across the man's now vacant eyes, rather, where the eyes had once been, returned. Only this time, the shadow was no longer just a shadow for it had taken on the form of a skull with fiery eyes. This skull did not replace what belonged to the human, but laid itself over the top like a thin blanket, faint, yet definitely present.
Whatever it was that caused this once strong man to tear out his own eyes, was not only merciless but totally evil. The elf sensed this and was terrified by it. Startled and frightened, he released his hold on the human and fell backward.
As he sat in the darkened alley, staring at the human and trying not to think of the evil that the man's body held, the human died. One moment he was kneeling, staring in the elf's direction, and the next moment, he sighed, expelling all the air from his body before toppling forward.
After the human fell, the elf remained where he was, stunned by what he had witnessed. The horror was not over, for now a wispy, indistinct form began to rise from the dead body. The form, fairly reeking of evil intentions, remained stationary for a moment, then with a rush, sped toward the elf passing through him before disappearing into the blackness of the night beyond. For a few seconds the very air about the elf vibrated and the ground trembled beneath where he sat for a short time before all was still once more.
Slowly the elf rose until he once again stood, on very shaky legs, numbed by his experience, then without thought, he retrieved his long knives, putting them back in their sheaths. After picking up the message pouch he paused, unsure of what he should do next, what would be the right thing to do. Someone would want to know what had happened here but if he found someone and told them what happened, what he had seen, would they even believe him, or would they think him mad? Regardless, it would be the right thing to do, he decided.
As he turned he saw two figures, an old woman and a young girl, standing at the mouth of the alley watching him intently. The old woman showed no fear as he approached and continued to lean on her long staff. If he had not been in such deep shock from his experience, he would have seen that the look in the old woman's eyes was not one of judgement, rather, it was one of sincere compassion.
As the elf approached the two humans, he could sense the very old and very powerful aura of magic that surrounded the old woman. Somehow knowing that his strength was almost at an end, he tried walking toward the two on legs that seemed to have suddenly developed minds of their own.
To further complicate matters, villagers were starting to gather, having been attracted by the screams, and while some had come because they really wanted to help, others had come because they just wanted to know what was going on.
When the elf finally stopped in front of the woman, and looked down into the sad brown eyes, he knew that he had indeed found an ally. He had been lucky for the evil that had touched him, however brief that touch had been, could easily have taken his life and though he had survived, the experience had left him feeling cold, drained and diminished. What little strength he had left was quickly leaving him and he knew that he would soon pass out. Taking the message pouch, he held it out toward the old woman who took it, never taking her eyes off the fair being in front of her.
"Please, my Lady, see that this message is given to Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and let him know what has happened here. He will need to know. He will want to know."
Before the old woman could reply that she would do as he requested, the elf fell unconscious at her feet, finally overwhelmed by what he had experienced.
When the villagers saw the elf's body fall to the ground, they began to whisper among themselves. Murder was something that just did not happen in Lanthir and being a simple people, with simple thoughts, the citizens of the small town quickly assessed the situation in the only way they were capable of ... simply. They saw the dead blacksmith and they had seen the elf resheath his long knives then leave the body and move away from it toward the old woman. To them the facts were clear and could only mean one thing - the Elf had killed the man. Having made their misguided conclusions without investigation, the mob began to get angry.
The angry people surrounded the unconscious elf and pulled his unresisting body up from the ground where it was then held in that position by strong human hands. Seeing that he remained unconscious, the strong hands holding him upright shook him then slapped his face, in a crude attempt to revive him but when that failed and he remained limp and unresisting, they forcefully threw him to the ground then began arguing about what to do next. Most of those gathered favored immediate execution and the few who at first had advised caution, were soon finding themselves of one mind with the majority.
In the midst of the fire of their hearts and misdirected assumptions, a quiet, aged voice spoke and though none could explain how or even why they complied so quickly, every man there fell silent whether it was their will or not.
"Are these the fair and tolerant people of Lanthir that I hear speaking of killing a being without first hearing his side of what happened?"
The old woman looked each of the men directly in the eye, piercing them with blue eyes that held both snap and challenge, daring them to answer while in their turn, being full grown and independent individuals, they suddenly felt like errant children and lowered their gazes to the ground.
"While I know not the manner of our blacksmith's death, I can tell you this one fact with certainty, and that is, that this Elf had no part in it." With her cane the old woman motioned toward the unconscious elf at her feet. "When my granddaughter and I arrived here, the blacksmith yet lived and this Elf was trying to prevent him from further harming himself." She looked at the villagers for a response.
When no response was forthcoming and the villagers continued to look at their feet, and using all the powers of persuasion her voice and presence possessed, she looked at the villagers and bid them look at her. Ever so slowly heads raised and eyes locked onto hers.
"It would serve no mans' purpose to take the life of an innocent. This elf was only here to take rest before he continued his journey. Since it now appears that his continued presence will be a burden on the good people of this town, I will take him on the last part of his journey myself."
She took a step closer to the silent humans and fixed each of them with a steely gaze.
"I will need my wagon, the elf's horse as well as provisions for a one day journey. After that, I will need two strong men to 'gently', and I do mean gently, place the elf in the wagon. After he is made comfortable, I will leave this town and none of us will trouble you with our presence again."
The old woman did not have to express her wishes more than once and it was not but 30 minutes later when the wagon she had requested as well as the elf's horse and provisions arrived at the alley where she had continued to keep watch over the sick elf. Two of the villagers picked up the fair being and placed him in the back of the wagon on a pile of furs then covered him with more furs to stave off the evening's chill. Then the same two villagers carefully helped the old woman to climb into the back of the wagon where she settled herself beside the unconscious elf. Her granddaughter picked up the reins, spoke quietly to the horse after which the wagon and its occupants quickly disappeared into the darkness.
In truth, Lanthir would see none of these beings ever again.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
In Caras Galadon, the Lady of Light stood in her garden, her husband at her side. She had been troubled for some time by visions and indistinct glimpses of a threatening and brooding darkness. Though she would often consult her mirror for an explanation, it revealed nothing that could explain the uneasiness she felt.
Then without warning the earth trembled and the air about the pair vibrated. Galadriel put her hands over her ears as her Lord and husband steadied her.
"What is it, Galadriel? What have you sensed?" Celeborn waited for her to answer him.
When she finally turned toward him, he saw the fearful look in her eyes and was immediately concerned, again placing a steadying hand on her arm. Taking her husband by the hand, Galadriel turned and led him quickly toward their Council Chamber.
"Come husband, for a great evil is approaching and we must prepare." The two climbed the steps to the great flet that housed the Council Chamber of Lórien and after entering, quietly closed the doors behind them.
8-) 8-) 8-) 8-).
The Hall of Fire was almost empty, for the hour was late. Elladan and Elrohir were busy chasing their younger human brother through the great Hall, for some prank or other had been pulled and the twins were trying to catch the perpetrator in order to exact the appropriate retribution.
Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor were seated before the fireplace with a glass of wine enjoying the quiet and comfort of both fine wine and good friends. The last month had been a difficult one for all of them, for the Last Homely House had been the host to both allies and later, those wounded in the battle fought with the Shadow Wraiths and their army of orcs. Now, the last of the recovered wounded had returned to their homes and all was quiet once more.
Anayah sat on one of the many couches in the hall, quietly reading a book and eating an apple while she completely ignored the antics of her brothers.
Even before the others in the hall felt the first vibration, Anayah screamed softly and clamped her hands over both ears, dropping her book and the half-eaten apple as she did so. Shortly thereafter, the others did the same as their sensitive Elven ears were assaulted by the powerful vibration that filled the room. The house trembled for a few seconds, shaking the paintings on the walls, vases of cut flowers that sat on various tables and other decorative furnishings. Then, as suddenly as the phenomena had begun, it ceased, leaving everything quiet and peaceful once again.
Those still in the Hall of Fire looked in Anayah's direction for they knew that the young she-elf had a tendency to shake things about when agitated. She met their gaze.
"Don't look at me." She said innocently. "This time it was not my fault."
TBC