Just Me: I'm the queen of cliffies. :D You will just have to wait and see. I'm not giving out any information that's gonna give away the ending or some significant detail. Oh Finland! How wonderful! Have a safe and wonderful journey!
Lady of Light: Yes, there is some romance, but its going to be light. At least I hope so, that's what I was aiming for. :D There's gonna be some meanness in this chapter... Hal gets wicked. EG
Zammy: I update when the reviews come in and prompt it.
Naomie: Patience... patience precious. snickers and goes into bad Gollum impression that leaves her throat raw Ok.. never mind... bad on the vocals.. moving on. LOL Be warned, Haldir gets mean in this chapter. :D
AnathTheGoddess: I tried hard to keep this out of MS land. My beta sent me a list of things NOT to do and I have been using it as a guideline. IN fact, I use it for all my stories now, just so I don't fall into that category of "oh man, another writer went to ME" Lets face it, its been done to death and I wont add to that. :D I "DO" put in my own little quarks and personalities... like you said, each character has a piece of the one that created them. There is always a detail that pertains to the writer in every character and creature they create... it cant be helped. :D I try to keep my updates on a schedule but with the Orc known as REAL LIFE that likes to visit my house on occasion, it is hard to make things regular. I appreciate each and every one of my readers, even the ones that don't leave me any messages. I know they are out there and I just hope they all know that they are very appreciated. I hope your shoulder gets feeling better and I can sympathize.. its my right that's bothering me. ( Word to the masses: Don't wash and wax two cars in one afternoon. Those little circles get ya every time. LOL
Seeing Spots: I was hoping to build everything up. I wanted to set a good pace. My beta said I did good, and its nice to hear others getting giddy when I planned it that way. :D Hope you aren't disappointed with this chapter and be warned, Hal gets a bit ill-tempered. :D
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Chapter Sixteen: The Gates of Hell Hath Opened
The Elves split up, circling the voices of the men coming from the distance. The Elves easily surrounded and surveyed the landscape, taking to the trees for a better view and element of surprise. The men's constant bantering and crude remarks floated to the hiding places, helping the Elven snipers to better pinpoint their targets.Haldir remained cast in shadows, his eyes surveying the small glade in which the camp had been made. An oblong, shabby-looking building stood on one side of a clearing, its hasty construction obvious from the leaning posture and roughly hewn planks that made up its walls. The dilapidated, three-sided building was littered with hay and small tools, its use obviously for the care of horses. Opposite of the shabby stable was another building, squat, wide, with a large, flat roof and one visible door. This building was constructed by rock, and sunk deep into the ground, where the rear dipped sharply. It was evident that the building was built a long time ago, though its purpose was unknown, but which was in use once again, contrary to the decay it showed on its face.
Between the two buildings was a sunken pit, which had several men seated around it on trees they had felled. Others were piling a large stack of wood, more than likely just gathered, and were ribbing good naturally with each other.
"Mark my words," one was saying with a deep voice. "He will return and complain about the work."
"I do believe you will be right," another joined in, sitting beside his friend and offering him a large wooden cup. The two toasted merrily and began drinking down the contents.
Able to sense the others hidden among the trees, Haldir whistled a small bird chirp; the Elves signal to remain where they were. If the men were indeed only making merry and not the ones responsible for the kidnapping of their kin, then the Elves would offer no opposition.
Several minutes passed by with the language becoming more vulgar and lude, and Haldir opened his mouth to give the signal to retreat, but his attention was drawn to one of the men who said "Elves."
"How long are we to keep them?" one asked gruffly.
"As long as the master wishes," the one with ale said, then burped richly and poured more into his cup from a small barrel nestled among the branches of the fallen tree he sat on.
Haldir chirped again, the pitch different this time, signaling to the Elves to take aim and prepare for battle. He silenced the small voice in his head that was chastising him for wanting to leave the merry band alone, when they were the ones that evidently had taken the elves that the orcs had captured for them.
"They are taking too long to break," one snapped grumpily. "By this rate, we will take years to break enough of their kind for the master's plan."
"Do not fuss," another man with a deep bass voice said. "We are paid well for our troubles. The master said we have time."
Haldir's mind raced at what it just heard, but anger rose up as he heard the next words.
"Who cares if they die? Good riddance if you ask me. They are of a foul race that thinks of itself too highly. It is time they are put to a good use and shown who is superior."
Haldir's face was burning as he gave the sharp command. The air was suddenly full of white-feathered arrows, whistling through the group of men and landing perfectly on target. Each Elf released his projectiles; their victims falling silently to the ground. One by one they dropped, no noise escaping their bodies as their life ebbed away. In less than a minute, fifteen bodies littered the ground where they sat, several still twitching as the arrowheads irritated nerves. The Elves leapt lightly onto the ground without disturbance, their ears alert for any sounds of threat.
Hearing only the ordinary sounds of the wood, the Elves ventured to the squat building with a flat roof. Slinging their bows over their shoulders, and drawing their swords, the Elves flanked the doorway. Haldir gestured their attack plan to the others, then entered the open doorway with the others following in close formation behind.
It took less than a second for the Elven eyes to adjust to the dismal light. The doorway opened into a small hall that lead to a set of crumbling stone stairs, dropping down into a darkened abyss. Rough, wooden beams were anchored along the walls, shoring up the decaying building to make it safe for usage. The scent of decaying wood and soured sweat lingered in the air. The Elves cautiously descended, weapons poised, eyes scanning the dimly lit passage.
A few steps further down a foul stench greeted the Elven intruders. They flinched from the odor, curling their noses and becoming on higher alert, recognizing the smell as the scent that lingers after orcs.
The steps parted onto a corridor where with the silent stealth of the Elves, the snores and grunts of several inhabitants now resting, could be heard. By the grunts, some orcs also resided among the human contingents. Haldir frowned in the dark, wondering why these two races were in such close acquaintance, and why did the thought send a cold chill down the March Warden's spine?
Descending past the hall, the Elves continued down the stairs, careful not to make a sound and alert the sleeping warriors to their presence. Continuing on, Haldir halted the group again at a second hallway. No sounds could be heard from the shortened corridor. Motioning for everyone to watch his back, Haldir ventured quietly down the hall and peered into the first room. A lonely table with shining metal objects resting on it met the keen gaze of the Warden. Frowning, he moved to the next room, which contained several shelves of jars and a flimsy cot with straps falling onto the floor. Shuttering, Haldir returned to the group and led the way down to a third and final level, the stairs ending with a long hallway lined with large bolted doors.
Múrendil remained on the stairs, his eyes and ears trained for signs of the warriors upstairs stirring. The only sound was the thundering silence pressing in on the heightened Elven ears.
The hallway was long with thick beams of wood that held the stony, low- slung ceiling with corbels supporting the girders that stood in intervals along the passage. The smooth walls showed cracks and crevices, signs of aging on the building that proved it had been outdated, and put back into use with the new modifications to make it safe.
Haldir and Orophin went first down the passage, taking to the left, creeping up and peering through the thin slot allotted at the top of a door. A dark dank empty room glared back.
Rúmil and Láiraen started on the opposite side, peeking through the small slots and examining the rooms beyond the doors.
After a couple of empty rooms, Rúmil gazed into a dank room and gasped. The others turned to him as he pointed, "Devatir!"
Orophin left Haldir's side to go see to the elf that Rúmil had discovered. If it was indeed Devatir, then not only were Mirkwood and Lorien being under threat, but Rivendell as well. The thought that Imladris had suffered losses had not been considered by any in the Elven company.
"Aravitan?" Haldir exclaimed softly upon seeing a Mirkwood elf inside the next room he peered in to. With a flick of his wrist, the sword slashed the lock. The bolt hung limp on a hinge, then swung squeakily back, allowed access inside.
Rúmil copied his brother's gesture and easily pushed open the door, the lock mangled and hanging uselessly on its hinges.
"He is dead," Orophin whispered sadly as he knelt by Devatir's side. The fallen elf lay peacefully with his hands clasped over his still chest, vacant eyes staring blankly up at the stone ceiling.
"We shall take him back to Rivendell so he may be buried and honored by his kind," Láieaen spoke softly, standing in the doorway and bowing his head to honor the dead. Devatir was a frequent visitor to Lothlorien, bringing the letters from the twins to their grandparents several times a year. He was well liked among the Lorien elves and would be sorely missed by both realms.
"Aravitan is still alive," Haldir hissed urgently from the opposite side of the hall. Orophin rushed in as Haldir left to check on the rest of the rooms lining the left side of the hallway.
The next room Haldir looked into was devoid of anything, including furniture. The next held a small solitary form on the rickety bed inside. The door fell away like the previous ones as Haldir carved up the locking mechanism.
Haldir rushed to the elf's side and found it to be Iavasriel, Oradhir's bondmate from Lorien. Her face was ashen pale; her breathing shallow and her eyes were closed.
"Iavasriel?" Haldir said gently, laying a delicate hand on her shoulder to alert her of his presence.
Iavasriel's eyes fluttered open, their normal crystalline sea blue depths now dulled and shadowed.
"'Tis a dream," Iavasriel rasped with a broken voice. "I dream my last."
"I am no dream, Iavasriel," Haldir said with a hushed voice. "You will be safe. We have come to take you back home."
Iavasriel's eyes widened, "You are not a dream?"
"Nay. You are going home."
"I feel you have come too late," she sighed, her eyes drooping partially shut. "My life drains away from me. I shall never see my home again."
"Do not speak such words," Haldir said sadly, fighting a strong sudden urge to weep.
"It is true, Haldir," Iavasriel said with a rattling breath. "I know Oradhir no longer lives, and I can not continue knowing he will not be by my side to sail to the Undying Lands."
Haldir felt his eyes mist at her words, remembering all the times he had shared with the couple, which apart from his brothers, knew him better than anyone else. They had spent centuries in each other's company and it was Iavasriel and Oradhir who consoled Haldir and his brothers when their parents were killed when they were a few centuries old, apart from the Lady of Light herself.
"Haldir, tell Rúmil and Orophin that they have done well in the rescue of their kin. Do not let them mourn so for Oradhir and I," Iavasriel sighed, her breath shallow. "Do not despair, young March Warden."
"To three lonely souls, you were as a mother," Haldir held Iavasriel's hand firmly in his own, his thumb stroking the back of her pale hand. "To lose another parent is to suffer the greatest pain. Do not ask me to allow you to pass so easily."
Iavasriel shuddered slightly, her lips curled into a smile, "I am honored to have been thought of as such." A spasm of pain shot through her body, causing her breath to come with a struggle.
"Iavasriel, please," Haldir pleaded, bringing the she-elf's hand to his cheek and allowing the tears to flow down, washing her skin with his grief.
Iavasriel calmed, her eyes dimming to a dark blue that matched the sky on a clear summer's night, "Guard fair Lorien well, Haldir. Take care of your brothers and enjoy the life you have. Do not forget the love that awaits you afar."
Haldir smiled through his tears, knowing that no amount of pleading was to change the inevitable. He held Iavasriel's hand lovingly against his cheek, his mind blocking out the sensation of the coolness. "We will miss you fair Iavasriel. You have been a gift from the Vala to us."
Iavasriel smiled sweetly; a tear rolled silently down her fair cheek as her breath escaped her body one last time. Her eyes became distant and her hand fell limp in Haldir's.
Haldir felt as if some one had dowsed him with cold water and sucked his heart out of his chest. Laying Iavasriel's hands together across her chest, he said his last farewell before leaving the room.
Orophin was attending Aravitan; Rúmil was opening up the last door on the right side and disappearing into the darkness within. Seconds later he emerged with a fair-haired elf in his arms.
Haldir quickly searched the remaining doorways on his side, the second to the last housing the last elf thought missing. With a quick swipe, Haldir destroyed the lock and entered the room, kneeling by the elf's bedside. Lómetar was a currier from Lothlorien to Rivendell, and last heard to be staying for the coming winter in Rivendell to avoid the passes in the mountains.
"Lómetar?" Haldir whispered but garnered no response. He strained his eyes in the dimness and noted that Lómetar's eyes were closed; yet still he breathed. Closer examination revealed blood soaking the Elf's golden hair.
Orophin entered quietly and began a quick inspection of Lómetar and whispered as he worked, "Aravitan awoke long enough to tell me he was drugged. We found Wethíar in the cell next to Devatir. He has two broken ribs and has been beaten, but he will survive."
Haldir nodded mutely, watching Orophin's practiced hands go about their normal routine.
"Lómetar has a concussion and several deep bruises that worry me," Orophin said as he hastily bandaged the fallen elf's head.
"Iavasriel is dead," Haldir's voice was soft and distant.
"I know. Rúmil knows as well." Orophin said in a strangled whisper. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he fought down the emotions, knowing that now was not the time to grieve.
Any further conversation was cut off by Rúmil panting in the doorway, his face ghostly pale and a sheen of sweat on his face. A look of pure terror and panic was shining in his wide blue eyes.
"Haldir, you must come!"
Haldir left quickly and followed Rúmil to the very end of the hall, where there was a door that had recently been slashed by Rúmil's blade.
The stench emanating from the room hit Haldir so forcefully; he staggered, then held his breath and entered the dim. What met his eyes unnerved him and sent his heart racing so fast it practically hummed. His blood froze in his veins, circulating along an icy path and chilling him to the point he had never experienced before.
The room was filled with Elves- Elves that had been dead for some time. Approximately a dozen bodies littered the floor, each in a varying stage of decay. Some of the faces were turned towards the door and with a pang of remorse and pain; Haldir recognized some of the dead. Many of them were from Rivendell; Elves Haldir had met in his travels to the land over the past few millennia.
Hurrying from the room, Haldir gasped, leaning against the stony wall of the hall, his eyes closed, fighting to get the image out of his mind. Bitter bile rose up in his throat, his chest constricted and a wave of nausea threatened to take him down. Rúmil closed the thick door and propped the latch over to prevent the door from gaping. He went to his brother's side, trying desperately to quell his own feelings and reactions. Both brothers were shaking like leaves caught in a mighty wind.
"How do we take them all back to their kin? What are we to do?" Rúmil's voice was the softest it ever had been to Haldir's memory.
Haldir cleared his throat and straightened up; throwing back his shoulders indignantly and adopting the haughty manner he hid behind when emotions ran rampant. With his face impassive, unreadable, he looked up and down the hall, his mind formulating a plan.
"They will be buried here. Rúmil, help the others with the survivors. Take them quickly to the horses and ready yourselves to flee."
"What are you going to do?" Rúmil asked hesitantly.
"See to it that our kin are put to rest and the ones responsible for their deaths pay," Haldir said brusquely and started down the hall, his eyes roaming the stone underground structure.
"Take the survivors to the horses and prepare to ride," Haldir ordered the others when he drew near.
Láiraen nodded obediently, scooping up Aravitan carefully in his arms and ran up the stairs soundlessly.
Orophin and Rúmil surveyed Haldir with concern and worry, wondering what was going through their brother's mind. Before either could ask, Haldir motioned to the two injured elves that remained.
"Take Lómetar and Wethíar to the horses."
"It is not wise," Orophin started but Rúmil interrupted him.
"Haldir, what are you going to do?"
"Orophin, give me your sword," Haldir ordered, holding out his hand expectantly.
Orophin shook his head, "Nay, Brother. I fear what you may do."
Haldir's eyes flared to life with intensity, "I am going to give our murdered kin closure and make sure those responsible pay. Now give it to me. That is an order."
Orophin obeyed reluctantly, his expression mix of apprehension and fear.
"Now take the others to safety," Haldir repeated, grabbing Orophin's weapon.
Casting one last worried look at Haldir, the two gently picked up the two injured elves and started up the stairs, their hearts heavier than the ones they carried. Múrendil gave his leader a curt nod and followed behind the others, guarding their exit in case of unexpected exposure.
Alone in the darkness, Haldir looked wearily up and down the corridor, the stench of bodies lingered in his nose and turned his stomach. He fought back a sob, his eyes welling with tears at the thought of the elves lining the room at the end of the corridor. How he desperately wished to take their bodies back, but under such circumstances, they would have to be left behind. Wiping a stray tear from his eye, Haldir took a deep breath, trying to push down the anguish gnawing at his soul and the faces that haunted his waking hours.
The doors that held his kin captive hung flaccid on their rusty hinges. Anger replaced the heartache, and swelled in the March Warden's chest as he glanced between the two doors that led into the rooms that held two dead elves, Iavasriel included. His lungs constricted painfully, remembering Iavasriel's last words and the pain of knowing her soul mate was gone reflecting in her eyes. The hatred against those that did this filled Haldir's being. His eyes narrowed dangerously, shining through the dimness as he withdrew his sword from its sheave with his free hand. His breath hitched and heaved as he gritted his teeth and tightened the hold on the two swords gripped in his fists so forcefully that his knuckles turned white.
Hoping the others made it unimpeded to their mounts, Haldir went to the door that housed the bodies of the elves and whispered in Elvish, "Peace be yours my friends. Journey safe to the Halls of Mandos."
Looking back up to the end of the hall, to the stairs that lead to freedom, Haldir fought back the wave of tears and heartache and focused himself on what he must do. With an animalistic growl, the swords flashed in a blurry series of well-timed and honed strokes. The blades sang a deadly song, echoing up the hall with the wielder, twisting, turning, maneuvering them expertly, the precision well trained and deadly as surfaces were scarred, sliced, and severed, exposing the tenderness of the support beams. Haldir felt his muscles burn and ache as he extended, retracted, and used all his strength to force the blades into a series of slashes that gauged from top to bottom along the beams.
Reaching the stairs, Haldir sprinted up their incline, the sounds of cracking and deep rumblings touching his ears as the decimated walls on the bottom floor began to crumble. Cracks split from the marks that severed the foundation, splitting and angling off in chaotic directions. The weight of the upper two levels strained the weakened foundation, and in one second, silence hovered over the collapsing building.
With a final groan of the support structures, the bottom corridor gave in to the strain of withholding its burden and compacted down, the resonating shockwave and trembling weakening the upper two floors and sending them into a crashing pile of rubble. Shouts issued out of the sleeping quarters on the first floor as the men were awaken by the devastation happening below. The second level groaned, then collapsed on itself, sending a powerful vibration up to the top floor, which was already sporting crevasses and cracks from the collapse of its foundations.
As Haldir exited, the swords flashed in the sunlight, their sharp edges severing the supports around the doorway. For a moment, it creaked, the rumbling of the last and utmost corridor finally bowing to the inevitable and surrendering to the death throes. Dust and shards fell out of the doorway and peppered Haldir's back and hair. The door, no longer able to remain upright with slashed beams, crumpled down expelling a dust cloud around the solitary figure that stood a few feet away. Angry and scared shouts were soon drowned out by the sound of the once flat room caving in and creating a perfect cap. A headstone to those permanently held within.
Haldir approached the others, all of whom were mounted on their horses. The three survivors were held protectively in front of Rúmil, Orophin, and Láiraen. Haldir walked to Orophin, his face gray, brow drawn, mouth pressed in a thin line and handed his brother back his weapon. Dust and debris flecked off his shoulders as he moved. Orophin took the sword and nodded only once to his brother, and then replaced the weapon on his side. Múrendil bowed his head at their leader as Haldir mounted his steed, his expression stony.
Haldir opened his mouth to give the command to ride out, when shouts and hoof beats thundered around them as men emerged from the trees.
"What have they done?"
"Vile creatures!"
"Kill them!"
"Ride hard!" Haldir shouted, the destroyed camp becoming cluttered with angry men on horses, all shouting obscenities and curses to the elves.
The elves shot off with their horses, those holding the injured prayed they remain unconscious and not become damaged further from the jostling.
Haldir barked at the others to ride hard and far, Múrendil was to accompany him away from the others, hoping the humans would abandon their chase of the injured and pursue them instead. The plan didn't work completely; as the men split up, one of them yelling to his comrades, "Bring them down! They will pay for what they have done!"