Disclaimer: Return of the King is the best!!!! Belongs to Tolkien though…
Author's Notes:
I am so sorry. The Internet is really screwed up these last few days. I can't get online without my Internet connection being cut!!! I am truly sorry, I really really REALLY wanted to update, but I couldn't (literally)! Please review because Legolas is coming soon! Also someone tell me, how do you count reviews? Like your 100th reviewer or something, cos I want to dedicate a fic or a chappie…
Coldfiredragon and anyone else that I have missed: Thanks for adding me to you favourites!
Rika-chan: You are subtle…very subtle…hehe
Kurafoxgirl: You have my sympathies. I am having the same problem, I can't get on the net but I'm BACK! I'LL BE BACK! (You watch Terminator?)
The plot thickens…
Herendil did not know what to say, "Githil I'm sorry." No, he didn't like the sound of that one.
"Githil – I am regretful to inform you that Ruthiun died-"
" Sir, I have to tell you some bad news…"
" Father?"
"Supervisor, there has been an unfortunate incident-"
In frustration, Herendil threw a pillow at the wall. It knocked a glass on his dresser and it fell to the floor with a crash. Instantly, a servant came trembling.
"No, don't worry. It was my fault. I'll clean it up," Herendil said. He was immediately regretted letting his anger get to him. He didn't look as he grabbed the glass with his bare hands. One of the pieces of glass embedded itself in Herendil palm when he had been too hasty. Herendil stopped moving, he looked at the blood that was coursing down his fingers. The crimson drops stained his clothes.
"Sir…excuse me, but you are hurt!" The servant immediately fetched a healer.
Herendil did not respond. He just didn't know what to do, he was too troubled to think.
The healer entered the room.
"Sir! Herendil!" The healer shook Herendil with an urgency.
Herendil was taken out of his spell. "Yes," he responded, "What can I do for you?"
"Sir…are you not aware that you are hurt?" The healer asked patiently.
"Oh, that…" Herendil answered. The cut was now throbbing, but it was more of a sharp sting.
"If you will allow me, sir, may I take a look cut?"
Herendil nodded his consent. He rose and sat on the chair that the healer had pulled out. He extended the wounded part on the glass table. The healer had to withhold his shock. The glass was protruding from Herendil's hand. It appeared to have almost gone through his hand. A closer inspection revealed that the glass had not, it was a flesh wound but the cut was still quite deep.
"This will hurt quite a bit, sir. It won't be pretty, I suggest that it would be better if you looked the other way," the healer said uncertainly. He wasn't sure if Herendil wanted to see the glass being pulled out from his palm.
Herendil followed the healer's instructions. The healer took a deep breath, quickly and carefully he removed the piece of glass from Herendil's palm. He was slightly surprised when Herendil did not even give a cry of pain. The healer had observed that he had barely even winced.
"You can look now if you like, sir. This will only sting a little. It's an antic-septic healing salve, to prevent an infections," the healer explained.
"Thank you," Herendil said as the healer continued his ministrations. The sub-supervisor was being sincere but he was distracted by his thoughts about Githil. It had been a long time since Fenath's death, and he had not taken that death well…what would he say if he were to lose his only brother? Would he have any hope left?
"Sir, you were extremely fortunate that it is a flesh wound and that the glass did not penetrate further. It was very close to a major artery in the wrist. That would have been disastrous. However, I did notice that the wound is to your right hand. You will not be able to do much with it for the next few days, until it heals. I advise that you do not put much pressure on it, don't strain it by using a dagger or a sword. If possible, try not to wet it. I will come and change the bandages for you tonight, if you wish. Do you need any painkillers as well, sir?"
"No, thank you," Herendil replied distantly. "Thank you for your time."
"No problem. Sir, what about tonight's arrangements?" the healer asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry…yes…yes they are fine," Herendil answered.
The healer left, sensing that his presence was unneeded. He could tell that Herendil was very worried about something but the healer dismissed this. He is a sub-supervisor after all, he reasoned, it must be the stress. He just came back from his errand, perhaps he is tired from his trip.
Herendil inspected his bandage. The healer had done a good job, the sub-supervisor appreciated inwardly. Herendil buried his head in his hands, he was at a loss of what to say. Stop putting it off, he berated himself. Don't be such a coward and just do it. Rising to the challenge, Herendil went to find Githil.
He felt a slight feeling of apprehension as he moved towards the supervisor office but he brushed it away. I'm not some servant in trouble, I merely have to inform him of Ruthiun's death. Giving himself some encouragement, he pushed the door open.
Githil did not look up from his desk, "Can't you stupid servants learn to knock? I'll-"
"Greeting sir, Githil, supreme supervisor, servant of the King of Mirkwood," he addressed formally. Herendil was hoping to calm him down before he heard what he had to say. Herendil was not a weakling, he just did not wish to see Githil in a rage.
"My greetings, Herendil, Son of Renendil, servant of the King of Mirkwood," Githil replied coolly. "I trust that you have reported to the King then?" his sneer was as condescending as always. "What news do you have for me, sub?"
Herendil turned pale. Why did Githil use his hated nickname? The nickname that…Ruthiun gave him? "Sir, I apologise for my interruption but I have some…urgent matters of importance to discuss with you." Herendil was starting to feel uneasy.
"Well then, tell me?" Githil said sardonically as if the sub-supervisor was an elfling. This attitude aggravated Herendil, he did not think that Githil was taking him seriously.
"On the journey to Imladris, we were attacked by a group of orcs," he paused as Githil waved his hand dismissively. This will get his attention, he thought. "Unfortunately, Ruthiun..." Herendil suddenly did not know what to say.
"WHAT? TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BROTHER?" Githil said protectively. He stood up, his hands gripped the desk until his knuckles were white. Spittle flew out of his mouth.
Herendil was taken back by Githil's aggression. "Ruthiun sustained a fatal wound," he said softly.
"NO! WHAT DID YOU SAY? TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM!" Githil reached for Herendil as if to strangle him.
"RUTHIUN WAS DECAPITATED BY AN ORC! HE DIED, I'M SORRY!" Herendil burst out, unable to put it off any longer.
"No, he didn't die. Don't lie to me, Herendil, I'm not in the mood for jokes." Githil's voice was dangerously low. This was the voice he used when he was in a rage.
"Stop denying it, Githil. Father. Ada," Herendil said. He was trying to get Githil to calm down, "Ruthiun is gone…his body is in the Mourning Room. I brought his body back. He is really gone." Herendil slid down the wall of the office and stayed there. He did not know how to comfort his father. His foster father didn't even acknowledge him.
Githil was still in shock. Abruptly, he rose and went out. The door slammed behind him. He was now entranced by the death of Ruthiun. He can't be dead. Ruthiun can't be dead. I promised myself that I would not let my only brother die. Githil was trying to convince himself that Ruthiun was still alive although a part of him knew that it was futile. As Githil went inside the Mourning Room he saw a body lying on the table. The room was deserted. He lifted the white sheet and found cloths wrapped around the body. Slowly, he unwrapped the cloths in a zombie-like state. When he reached the last layer, he prayed to Valar that it was not Ruthiun. He pulled the last layer off, revealing Ruthiun's body.
"NO! It cannot be him. Ruthiun! RUTHIUN! Can you hear me?" Githil shook Ruthiun's body. The head of the body disconnected, as Githil watched in horror, he was left holding the rest of Ruthiun's body. "NO! YOU ARE NOT DEAD! YOU AREN'T MEANT TO DIE! I WAS MEANT TO SAVE YOU…I WAS MEANT TO SAVE YOU! RUTHIUN! RUTHIUN! RUTHIUN!"
Githil's anguished cries were echoing in the Mourning Room. They soon became hoarse sobs. Githil collapsed on Ruthiun's body and whispered, "My brother…My brother…I'm sorry. I should not have ignored you all those years. I'm sorry. Now you can never forgive me brother. Ruthiun. Why did you have to die?" Githil was crying.
"I've only ever cried for Fenath. Now I have to cry for you. Why Valar? Why did you take him from me? Why did he have to die…my only brother…my only family. WHY DID YOU TAKE HIM FROM ME? VALAR!"Githil exploded in a rough scream. Then he sobbed, "Ruthiun. Now I'm alone and without anything to hold on to. You're gone…you are really gone…"
Githil rested his head on Ruthiun's tunic, breathing in his scent. It was very faint but it was there. Githil savoured the familiar smell, one last time. His words were becoming unintelligible, interrupted by his sobs. Githil held onto his body. He cling there, desperately hoping for something he could never have. He wanted to be forgiven, but Ruthiun was dead.
Githil looked at his hands. "Forgive me, my brother. I never told you that I loved you. I didn't think I needed to. You saved me from my grief before. I…"
Githil could not finish his sentence. He wept into his hands, throughout the night until the early hours of the morning. In the dimness before dawn, he murmured, "I should have protected you. I was meant to save you…like I should have saved Fenath…I should have protected you from Herendil…
…He killed you."
Please Review! More angst is coming…