Longest chapter by far I think; it's mainly two chapters but in the essence of keeping the story flowing I put them together.
side note The time of the battle is roughly 4 years after the beginning of the War of the Last Alliance. thought I would tell you now so that I didn't have to write in "four years later..." before the secone part.
I take special pride in this chapter for some reason, so please critique me honestly. Thanks.
A new sun arose over the hills of the Valley of Anduin, and blazing golden amber light peaked through the columns of silver-gray, trees and lit the whole of Caras Galadhon with an eerie mist of anxiousness, as if it was a morning preparing for a century of darkness. Time seemed to slow, and even the river was quiet in this time before the plunge, for all seemed to be the last moment for anything, the last meal, the last touch, the last words of solice and comfort...and love. And the morning dusk entered the hall of Amdir where sat the tall elven King and Amroth, prince of Lorinand, they were quiet, staring at the ground of this grand hall that now was empty of soul and body. It was not until Amdir looked at the growing light in the hall that he at long last spoke with a deep and sincere voice,
"Amroth, you have been at my side all the long years this kingdom has lived, at my side to defend me from foes, usurpers, and uncouth tongue, yet also to build a kingdom where there once were only sparse clans and tribes of our people. You made the people trust a king again, and gather beneath a common banner, there is no gift or reward I can give you..."
"There is no need, I did it freely, for my kin, my King, and Father."
"I am going to an unknown fate Amroth, a destiny that holds all in an unkind balance between death and life..."
"And you will return, and rule your kingdom again..."
"All my years, I have known that nothing is certain, whether in war, or in peace, or in love...the future is filled with uncertainties, so many that not even the wise can see every end. We, in the present, must decide what to do with that which is given so preciously to us, yet so sparingly, time. Even for the immortal, time is short to do what we wish, for it is filled with joy and sorrow, for some greater than most of either...it is our children that we hope for..."
"Do not sound as if you are a mortal gaining years toward eventual death, you will live forever as King of this realm."
"Amroth...I have named you my sole heir, I trust you greater than any of my council, or my knights, or my subjects. If I do not return from this Amroth, I know you will lead my people in a way that will outshine my own reign."
Before the youth could say anything the ancient king embraced this one he had called son, and no more words were said between them. And not far from where the hall of Amdir lay, was a small river that fed into the Anduin, one with sweet taste and that fed the great mallorns of Central Caras Galadhon; and upon it's banks sat Celebrin and Alphindil, two companions who had spent most of their lives together than apart, looking beyond them at groups of families bidding their farewells; despite the silence Celebrin let out a cough, purging his lungs of a vile taste to which his companion laughed robustly, and cursing the pipe he handed back to his friend, Celebrin said in between small coughs,
"Such a vile taste! I felt poisoned..."
"I agree this is an uncommon practice for any elda to undertake; I myself can handle little of it, but at least I can use such a device."
"It is of little matter anyway, such a practice will never catch on."
Alphindil looked beyond the river's edge and before him he saw a three families preparing one for battle, one a son, another a husband, and the last a brother; each was fitted into their armor by their mother, their wife, or their sister. The matriarch cupped water into her hands and gently washed the face of her husband and sons, singing a whispered blessing as her daughter and son's wife sang with her braiding their father, brother and husband's hair. The ritual he had seen many times before, the final blessing before battle, the donning of the armor, and the final kiss of the loved one dear. He had longed to know this ritual, but had no family to give him their strength, their final essence of love. He felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder and looked to Celebrin, who of all people had been his family these long years, who he loved dearer than familial bond. Celebrin's kind sea-gray eyes called him to follow and the two stood from their seats and walked to a small clearing where a tree rose in the midst of it, and above a roofed talan stood as their shared abode. Into the flet they climbed and there laid on the bed were two suits of armor, one golden yet altered to include the scarlet and forest hues of the Nandor, the other gray, with a dark tunic and the emblem of Celeborn emblazoned on the breast plate. Celebrin at last spoke,
"You and I have been one another's family, if you wish it, I will perform the Farewell Ritual for you, if your heart desires so."
"It must be done by the matriarch, and you are not..."
"Regardless. The two of us, may never see this land again, this is not like the battles we have fought before, we go now into the net of evil, unsure of what fate will befall either of us."
"Such an action would endear my heart, but...You must allow me to perform it for you as well."
"I would have t no other way."
And so a bucket of the cool river water was brought from below and the two dressed into plain tunics of white linen, and taking water into their hands they blessed the forehead of the other and the mouth and the hands and the feet, singing in whispered voices
Guard this face, which I hold dear
Guard these lips, which touch mine own
Guard these hands that wield sword and harp
Guard these legs that stand firm and dance
Guard this breast, where beats my own heart
Oh hear me stars above
Grant my strength to him,
Who goes to war.
Guard this one whom I love
Let no arrows pierce his heart
Nor no sword cleave his side
Oh hear me stars above
Guard this one whom I now bless
This face
These lips
These hands
These legs
This breast
This heart
These eyes
This spirit
Grant what strength was given unto me
Pass unto him, and give him strength
In the fog and fires of war
Oh hear me stars above
Let no arrow pierce his heart
Nor no sword cleave his side
Guard this one whom I love
And when the song finished the twain held each other's sword and in presenting it to one another the last of the ritual was completed, as they did so the final blessing was spoken,
"May the sun shine upon you, and light your path through the din of war
And may the stars shine brightly when we meet again"
Then the ceremony continued as a candle was placed between them even then as the matriarch below sang the song of protection. And they fitted each other in their respective armor: chain mail and leggings, then the over armor that fitted the form of the wearer, its leaf like forms and etchings lightly touching the hands that secured them. Then the fitting of the wrist gaurds, beneath which was placed a kiss and a sprig of leaves, for Celebrin it was the leaf of the cedar, for Alphindil it was the leaf of the cyprus, to each his own home land. Then the hair was tightly bound behind the face in the braid worn only in war-time; then after, as the two companions faced one another seeing the other dressed for battle and war in an unknown place and uncertain fate, they smiled quietly at one another, seeing for the first time how each had truly grown in beauty and in wisdom since that fateful day in Avernien. Taking mud from the bank of the river below, Celebrin marked the upper forehead of Alphindil saying,
"Let none come between our bond, even death itself, for I lay my hope in you."
And Alphindil took mud from the hand of Celebrin and marking his forehead said,
"Let not death come in war, lest it take us together, to the halls beyond the seas."
Then embracing one another with the last true touch either would feel the ceremony was ended with a gentle, and seemingly final kiss, upon the lips of the leaving, signifying the possible finality of war. Adjusting the swan brooch attached to his cloak Celebrin looked at Alphindil and with a gentle sigh said,
"It is time."
Then the two departed silently to the stables where they took their horses, leaving behind the whining colt, who had not come to know the tires of war and rode to the gathering beyond the borders of Lorinand. There at the very edge of the forest stood Amdir at the head, with the King Oropher at his side, their standard bearers holding high their green and white banners. Celebrin rode to the side of Amdir, leading with him the force of Celeborn and Galadriel, wearing gray armor, and the emblem of the silver tree. Behind him rode Alphindil bearing the standard of the two Lords, one who was present, the other sent grudgingly to Imladris to safeguard the hidden refuge. As they approached the head of the host Amroth stood before them and taking their hands bid them,
"Farewell brothers, though in body I am absent and draw no sword at your side, may the strength of my spirit be with you."
"May the land of Lorinand ever prosper under your hand, brother, friend."
,spoke Alphindil as the host began to move through the trees to the outer borders, where the forest was stopped by what the mortals called magic, and beyond lay the great golden and steel host of King Erenion of Forlindon and Elendil of Eriador, Arnor, and Gondor of the south. As these great and mighty kings of legend and history looked out at the forces of the woods, the mortal exclaimed,
"Alas, the very forests go to war at our side, unless my eyes are cheated!"
For the forces of Amroth and Oropher, though armed in the gilded armor of Gil-galad, wore the rainment of their woodland realm, scarlets, greens, blues, browns, and grays of the many hues of the autumnal season, which caused the leaves of Lorinand to turn and cover the woods with Doriathic evergreen and shimmering Valinorean gold. It was in this way that the Teleri of the eastern realm joined the side of the elven forces; and a high elven chieftain, who had thought these "dark-elves" too small for battle, was silenced when he saw the sheer size of their force, for they came from Greenwood the great and Lorinand and all places between, hidden in the mists of the mountains. And Amdir and Oropher met Erenion and Elendil, and in silence rode forth from the vale of the Anduin to uncertainty and the Dagorlad beyond.
The fires of war ravaged the plain that had, at one time been home to a great and ancient forest, that had once resembled a garden, a great courtyard garden filled with fruit bearing trees, home to the fabled ent-wives, who had departed far from this world, to fate unknown by any, elf, man, or dwarf. The plain lay flat and was darkened; here and there fires burned in pits and in trenches the stench of rotting flesh filled the air. No wind came to this plain, no breeze, no rain, no burst of sunlight, nor any gentle wind to calm the thirsty war-beaten soul. This was the Dagorlad, battle plain of Mordor, and the north western realms, where the first assault was laid over what seemed like ages ago. To the North of the Morannon, the Black Gate, stood the ash stricken forces of The Alliance, for five years they fought the forces of Mordor in the Dagorlad, winning a small piece of land in each battle, with many a valiant life buried in the black soils of the Dagorlad.
Now the sea wind from far to the southwest, through the burned wood of Ithilien, carried on the back of the Anduin, flew about the great host still remaining, and though blood-stained and weary from five years of unending war, all stood tall before the vastness of the Dagorlad, where, in the distance, a great might from Mordor was gathered, and marching forward to the gathered host of the Kings of the free-peoples. And far to the right of these mighty kings, sat Celebrin upon his white steed stained with orc-blood and ash, and beside him still, Alphindil bearing the tattered banner of Celeborn and Galadriel, and behind the host of Sindar and Noldor from Lorinand, decimated but not without hope. Seeing the hosts of the black land advance with unearthly speed, Alphindil held out his hand to his companion, who took it without question, giving him the strength he felt was foundering, with whispered words he said,
"I fear death this night...or is it day? I cannot say now, it has been so long since I saw star or sun."
"Take care Alphindil, I am with you still, until the end of days, I will be at your side...my strength is your strength, until the end of all things, and beyond."
"And I with you, unending strength of my strength...it is time."
And together, as they had done many times before, uncounted ages ago and only days before, they drew swords, a great horn call was given and forth rode the Twin Spears of the Eldar, the Sickle of Doriath, and the War Swan of Vanyimar. Like flashes of silver and gold they rode their white steeds, far from comfort or home, from those they loved dearly, and those they served reverently. Into the spears of crude iron they rode, and over the fence of orcs, into the midst of battle, black and blazing; so to ran forth Amdir and Oropher, Erenion and Elendil, the sons of Kings, and rulers of realms of beauty. And the day was filled with fire and blood, cries of victory and of anguished defeat, and for a brief moment of time, hope faltered for all, as a shadow flew overhead, yet the forces of Eldar pressed forth, heading not the shades of fear and doubt, giving last strength to mortal soul. Back fell the forces of black and blood red, crude iron gave way to tempered steel, made with joy and patience and love. Arrows fell into earth and into breast, and swords cleaved to side and through limb, yet still the forces of the west pressed forth into the onslaught, until the very Gate of Mordor was seen in the distance by Erenion King; calling out to the skies he cries,
"The stars, I can see the stars...Forth children of Arda! Victory is nigh!"
And arrows flew, swords flashed in the gathering moonlight, and the feet of steed and men trampled the cries of black curses, until none left on the Dagorlad heeded the call of the Deciever to return behind the Morannon, in defeat. Thus ended the Battle of the Dagorlad, passage was won to the Black Land.
When all had settled and the dust blew to the north by means of the southern wind that came from the sea, all that stood foraged for kin and friend, who lay wounded, or dead. Celebrin stood beside Mithgaer, his gentle white steed, looking with worry into the field of the fallen, where noble blood mingled with cursed mockery of true life, he saw no standing sign of the banner of Celeborn, nor heard any call from familiar voice. Leaving the steed to a page he overturned the lifeless body of many a familiar face and passed it one, looking for only one pair of eyes and gentle lips. Worry and doubt covered his face as he rushed through the field, crying out as if one who was fey, until he heard a familiar voice singing a song of lament. He ran to this voice, yet as he thought he came closer the voice fell and broke, and as the dust parted he saw a figure with golden-brown hair, kneeling beside the body of a horse, whose coat was of brilliant white, though it was heavily stained with ash and soot. Calling out to the figure, Celebrin cried with what voice he could muster through thirst and weariness,
"Alphindil"
The figure turned his face and rising ran to the open arms of Celebrin, weeping they fell to their knees, allowing memories of death and destruction to pass away with the wind, and clear their minds of war and death, at least for that moment. When their tears had subsided, they stood above the body of the white mare, who, though valiant in life, died to save the life of her master, taking the blow of a spear even unto death. The companions mourned the horse from across the sea, who lived so long a lifetime beyond the knowledge of men.
Celebrin leaving his friend to mourn the death of his fallen mare walked a little ways about finding what loss they had suffered until his eyes came upon a grisly sight, for naught but a few strides from where he stood he saw the green banner of Amdir flowing in the wind, tattered, broken, and at last flying free in the wind, torn off from its broken standard. Beneath this tattered banner lay Amdir, King of Lorinand, so frail now, where once was a strong tree that bent not to the very storms, now lay a fallen bear who struggled to rise again. Celebrin knelt by the side of this fallen King, whom none came to aid, whose very court fell around him in an ultimate defense of the King they held so dear. Taking him in his arms Celebrin cleared his bloodied face, wiping it with his cloak, only to find that Amdir still drew breath; he was about to call for a healer but was stopped by the trembling hand of the elven lord in his arms. In a whispered and distant voice, Amdir spoke as if on the very edge of a cliff, his voice breaking now and then, and the coughing of blood stopping his words,
"Uialion...do not fear, that I should die...all I have lived for, has come to this moment...I am beyond life...so long and full a life...my so...my son should know my last and final words before I go...to the halls where my King resides, and your father waits in silence..."
"Tell me my lord, and I will tell Amroth...you have my word."
"Let between you...and life, though we immortals have it...for all the ages...of ...of the world...it is so brief and lovely a thing..."
And with a last and final sigh, the rain at long last came to the field called the Dagorlad, and so passed Amdir Malgalad, King of Lorinand. And he was buried far from the site of his death, before the border of the Dagorlad, where for many years thereafter, green grass grew again, while the whole of the battlefield slowly became a marsh. And beside him were lain his fallen court and a small distance away stood a stone marking the tomb of Turgon, mare of Alphindil Gaereledh; that day also marked the death of Oropher, King of Greenwood the Great, and he was lain beside Amdir, by his son Thranduil, who took upon himself the leadership of all the silvan host, and took Celebrin as his lieutenant. And so did that day pass, as the storm clouds washed away the blood and destruction, and cleared the air of ash, before the day came, and with it the Siege of Bara-dur.
The ceremony of farewell was all devised in my head, though I was inspired by the Tale of Aldarion and Erendis, in the Farewell ritual the wife had to enact before a voyage.