Forgive me for having this be so long, but it is really action packed so I couldn't very well stop in the middle now could I. I hope you all enjoy it...Warning, this part isn't very dwarf friendly, but its taken from a sindar POV so I can't be too balanced now can it
This chapterhas been edited thanks to Shpinx and her/his very attentive reading (forgive me I do not know your gender)
As the wind rushed by his ever moving figure tassels of his braided hair flung around in a raging tidal wave, flying as though it were naught but storm clouds in the wind rushing to drown the valley in its wake. He spoke no word, heeded none who rode behind him, the heavy breaths of his lungs still beat with a ferocity of a cornered fell beast, who upon meeting the hunter finds only rage and anger to help him survive. Fey and without hope he seemed, filled with a primeval rage that had not been seen since the Day before the Sun, when fire tore down the hill country into the very land of Neldoreth. Long ago, in the twilight of the world, he rode as he did now, having lost another father. The band behind him began to fall away, and he felt the horse beneath him falter until in utter exhaustion the steed tripped over its own feet and he was tossed from his seat to the soft and supple earth, where anger and madness gave way to final sorrow as he pawed the ground mourning the loss he had not yet mourned for. A voice called to him from where his body lay in desperation,
"Hir Celeborn, it is time to rest the night, we cannot catch the murderers weary and longing for sleep, already we have done much today."
"We must go on, there must be none left…"
"There are few survivers, I doubt anything evil can come from them."
Celeborn lifted his head at the cold trail where the survivors had fled upon, no voices could be heard in the distance, and yet to his ears he heard the cold sound of deep laughter that once graced the Halls of Menegroth in friendship. The sound of this bellowing laughter never filled his heart with joy, only now it filled his being with anger-anger upon seeing his lord and King, father and uncle, hewn as if he were firewood upon the floor of the smithies. The murderers had a few hours head start on them, yet they were only on foot, he and his band were on horses- horses given as gifts to Thingol King, long ago. Earlier in the day they caught up to the stunted people, still drenched in the crime of greed, pawing at that cursed thing, the jewel that shone so beautifully in their hands. The ambush was laid almost perfectly- he was too eager for vengeance, he triggered it too soon, and now, now half had retreated into the fastness of the forest…
No! They won't get away so easily.
He stood again, and called the horse to him, wearily the horse trotted to him, yet with his hands touching the head of the noble beast he looked straight into the eyes of the horse. And in that brief moment, their weariness became strength, for as they stood an encouraging wind blew around them and storm clouds gathered above, lightning flared, and drums could be heard in the distance, the drums of the Naugrim. The elf beside him looked worried, and mouthed,
"It cannot be. They could not have risen the alarm so quickly."
"Peace Mablung, these dwarves are tricksters, they make these sounds to dissuade our cause…Ride with me sons of Doriath, to vengeance for our King!"
And with that the silver haired lord once again mounted his white steed and rode forth into the tangled webs of leaves and branches, hacking at anything that hindered him; so to followed his host behind him to the very shores of Aros in the southern borders of the land. There they came to an open shore, free of Dwarf or weapon. And they stood aghast, thinking they had lost their prey, when suddenly from the very tops of the trees a battle cry went out and from the height of the tree leapt a flashing figure of girth and ruddish beard, and he landed upon an unsuspecting soldier, bringing him and his horse to the ground. Anyone would have helped if the remainder of the dwarves had not come from the shadows of the trees. So it was there at the very ford of Aros that the battle that had happened that morning continued, and the Sindar of Doriath rallied around their Prince and rode down many a dwarf with the hooves of their mighty steeds, and the Naugrim thinking their plight lost began to wade across the very fords of Aros. As Celeborn turned to see their retreat he saw the shining shimmering Silmaril dangling from one of the necks of the dwarves, its beauteous and perilous light calling to him, its amber light glinting forth and yet from that distance he could see the jewel was still covered in the blood of his King and father-brother. In rage he ran into the very ford, not heeding the call of Mablung from the opposite shore, and there in the midst of the river he met the dwarf.
"Stop where you are murderer! And taste the just sting of my blade!"
The tall dwarf turned and laughed and cruel and hearty laugh, bringing his battle axe to his shoulder,
"I obey no princling, not even one as old as yourself, pointy ear!"
And Celeborn in rage and anger ran toward the dwarf, and iron met the shining steel, as the sounds of metal crashing mingled with the crashing of the thunder above.
In Menegroth she sat, stubbornly shifting in her seat- she was not used to this, sitting idly by while others performed feats of bravery uncounted. Hearing the thunder above she looked at the dark cavernous ceiling of the caves, the tall tree-like stone columns shaking even under the wrath of the storm, Something is not right
She thought to herself, she stood and saw how even the eldest of the she-elves noticed the oddity of the storm shaking the foundations of their kingdom. The servants would not dare to move themselves when she called to them, save one, she walked with a bearing that denoted her the head of their order, her golden-brown hair flowing to the ground in tight yet pliant braids. She stood before the tall she-elf, and bowed gracefully, given the circumstances, and as she bowed her head another shock of lightning struck the side of the land that covered Menegroth. The servant shifted in fear, yet courageously stood her ground beside the noblewoman by her side. Galadriel looked into the recesses of her eyes, knowing the servant knew only fear, yet despite being a new mother stood where a rock could easily crush her if another strike hit. She admired her willingness to stand, even when others coward,
This must be what the elders have and I do not…the love, the courage in fear that drives them to go on.
"Tathiril, where is my lady the Queen."
"Queen Melian is…she went to the Hirilorn early this morning, and then bid me depart from her…"
"Take me there."
She knew not what power sustained her at that moment, whether it was the fear for her husband's life, or that all she had known to be stable in this world had been brought to ruin, and there was nothing left for her to do than be brave. Easily they moved through the halls, no attendants could be seen and no guards hindered them, save those who stood guard over the body of Thingol King; before they detoured through the hall she caught a glimpse of the ancient elf, so peaceful he seemed as if asleep, yet the scars that were newly sown up began to bleed again and attendants would arrive to dab them spotless again. Tears welled in her eyes, her husband knew him as a father- true he was boorish, and strong-headed, but he was wise, and loving to any who came to him, without pretenses of course. Even her own family had not treated servants the way he did; she thought at first his open flirtations with his attendants were crude and savage, and yet they were innocent musings, jests and jokes that eased the tension of living in the time they did. It gave all a chance to laugh, and chance to know their king in an informal manner,
They love him dearly for that, perhaps that is why he is cared so dearly for in death, he was as their father.
The doors of Menegroth stood before them, and with a strong push they opened enough space for them to push themselves through; outside the winds blew this way and that, taking whatever was not tied to the ground from the earth and propelling it to the very sky. Her heavy robes stalled her movement, for the wind blew them in all direction to where she could not find any means of controlling them. Tathiril quickly removed them and let them fly into the wind, yelling,
"You only tolerated them anyway!"
Even at this time such a person could find joy, this was common among the Sindar- they laughed, for if not they would soon cry. And Galadriel smiled, she had always cherished the hand-maiden at her side, a constant in a world that grew increasingly imbalanced, a reminder of the subtle power of this world. In Valinor power, what mortals called "magic", was everywhere, you could see it in the eyes of the Vanyar, the works of the Noldor, and you could hear it in the songs of the Teleri. Whenever the Valar or Maiar would walk the streets of Eldamar one could see the aura surrounding them, and the effect they had was so quick to come forth that it was taken for granted, as if it would always be there- then Melkor came, and the Valar hid their wisdom and their power, for fear or caution she could never understand. In Beleriand she found a power that was not as omniscient, yet was as potent as anything she had ever experienced. Here the effects of their arts were slow to be seen, yet invisible to the eye they worked every day, making things endure and grow ever more beautiful as the years passed.
The Hirilorn stood in the midst of Neldoreth and its tall smooth branches curved from its large and smooth trunk and pointed toward the heavens that now were torrential in a dark and dooming storm that engulfed all the land within the Girdle. The wind was heavy with a hale and fey voice speaking words in a language that long remained unused in the land of Beleriand. Only Galadriel herself new their meaning and was loathe to translate them for the she-elf beside her. Yet the look upon the servant's face spoke of knowledge of these dark and dooming words. Their melody hard and sounds unknown by many an elf could be heard in the wind; all that Galadriel herself could translate she kept in her heart and spoke them not until these accounts were placed onto record. They followed thus,
The woods burn beneath this wrathThe ground is naked by this hate
Shaken the Earth, Broken the stone
The woods are awakened
The Skies grow blood red
Thunder be my sword
Lightning be my arrow
River be my tears that sweep the Earth of evil
Oh waters of Aros
Listen to my words
Bring death upon the wings of a betrayed heart
Flow you waters of Thingol's realm
Against the Stunted Folk
It was upon hearing the end of these words that the skies became dark as the pitch of tar and a great crack of thunder rushed through the skies toward the Hirilorn. Both maidens felt their hair rise, and braced one another for a strike that would turn them to ash. Yet the strike of light and fire turned before striking them and fell before their feet turning the ground into glowing embers of rock and illuminated earth. Heaving large breaths in fear and wonder they continued their journey toward the mighty tree, and upon reaching the opening that could only be reached by a ladder they saw two guards cowering under the branches and covering themselves with their broad leaf-shaped shields. One whose hair was of nightshade and ridden with starlight stood upon seeing the two ladies and brought them to safety beneath the thick branches of the Hirilorn; scolding he reproached his wife saying,
"Why do you come hither in such a storm?! Is it not enough that our child could loose one parent thus, only to loose another in the same manner?"
The gilded brown haired servant in a sense of jest in a most inopportune moment gave her husband a kiss upon his lips saying,
"Celebrin should have no fear of loosing you, who has lived by the sea, where such torrents are common, I however seem to be in the grace of she who commands this strom."
"It cannot be the lady!"
"I fear it is Uial, her resolve has broken, I and Tathiril must climb the tree, we must stop her before she brings to ruin all that we have built…where is the ladder?!"
"My Lady Galadriel, I fear the winds took it away from this place, I myself could barely keep ahold of it, these winds are unlike any I have ever seen!"
"WE MUST SCALE THE TRUNK!"
As these last words were shouted a crack of thunder broke a branch above them, and fell steaming with heat and glowing as one of the lamps of Gondolin. In a quick maneuver the gilded-brown hair of Tathiril was tied behind her head as she climbed upon the sea-faring shoulders of her husband and took hold of the branch nearest to the ground, and she swung around the light and simple limb, balancing herself upon its ever moving form, making herself lighter than the air that moved it. With a hand outstretched she took the hand of Galadriel and pulled her up to the level she now stood upon. And with what speed their fortunes could lend them they climbed higher and higher until they reached the very point where the ladder should have reached. And upon entering the doorway they saw a figure surrounded in mist and smoke, as if the very skies had enveloped her in their coming. Her silver-gray hair turned lightning white in the flashes of thunder and words of terrible foreboding could be heard, shouting across the vastness of Neldoreth. Before her shimmered a bowl of water that glowed in the light of the figure, and within an image was played, a battle, between silver steel sword and iron axe.
Celeborn dodged the first swing of the dwarvish axe as water flew in his wake, his sword gleamed and his silver hair flew in wild patterns in the gathering wind. The Silmaril gleamed greedily as the eyes of the bearded one before him, the blood upon it shimmering in the light of the lightning. He thrust and dodged, allowing anger to rip through his very body, as sword clashed with axe and the sounds of arrows flew by him toward the opposing shore followed by cries and the falling of silver and gold into the rivers. On the battle went, one would swing as the other bent low or turned to avoid the fatal blow. The golden chain hung heavily upon the neck of the dwarf, and delayed his blows; yet the strength with which he gave them was no less than what he would normally match. Scratches were given and flesh opened to reveal red streaming blood, yet an arrow flew through the air and into the very hand of the elven prince it drove, forcing his steel sword to fall heavily into the rushing waters of the ford. A dwarvish arrow it was, its red feathers gleaming above the gray of his tunic, and a cry went forth from his mouth as the swing of dwarvish axe flew into his stomach and swept him from his feet causing him to fall into the rushing of the water. He saw only darkness and a piercing pain rippled through his body, No it cannot end like this!
Silence seemed to follow as the dwarf now stood above the body of the elven prince, and his laugh that once filled the halls of Thingol with joy, now rang with victory and a harsh tone of greed as he kissed the jewel that hung about his neck. He raised his axe high above his head and spoke cruel words,
"I shall spit happily upon your grave, impetulant princling!"
Gasping for air Celeborn took in the sweet water of the Aros, and heard a voice in the storming winds,
Flow you waters of Thingol's RealmAgainst the stunted folk!!!
And taking a broad knife from its sheath at the curve of his back he thrust toward the neck of the dwarf as the swing of the axe came down to claim his life. The handle of the axe crashed into his shoulder and the blade of the knife flew between the thick iron armor of the dwarf and cut through skin. The axe fell into the river and the figure of the dwarf held his neck from where now blood poured out and soiled the river with its red hue. Mouthing words in gasping breathes of air he gazed at where his axe struck the abdomen of the silver haired elf, where now was revealed a shining mail of mithril, wrought by his own hands,
"I …curse the day… I ever made that for you…"
Taking in heavy breaths of air Celeborn watched the figure fall into the ford and the Nauglimir fell from its now broken chain into the waters of the river. Celeborn took it in his hands and felt the weight of all its blood shed in his arms, yet before thoughts could form in his mind a call came from across the shore.
"My lord!!! Fly, death is upon you!!"
And before him several dwarves ran with axes poised to strike him to death, mail or no, and he turned and took the hand of Mablung, who rode out upon his steed to meet him and jumped onto the back of the horse that now ran at full speed to the shore where archers stood ready to let fly their gray feathered arrows. Yet the band of dwarves stopped in their chase and began to run to their shore, yet they never reached their safety, for the river Aros came rushing down and swept them from the face of the earth as thunder crackled and flashed in pale bright images and the image of a lady wielding a sword could be seen amid the white torrents of rushing water. Yet the rushing of the river did not stop but began to take trees and rise above the shoreline as survivors and wounded of the Naugrim were soon swept away by the river. Yet the water began to reach the feet of the elven side and Mablung rode to higher ground in hopes that the vengeful water would not take them as well.
Galadriel hesitated not in her task and signaling for Tathiril to strike both lay hold of the queen's arms and could feel the power rushing through her immortal veins, like the rushing of the sea it crashed and moved. Into them surges of lightning went, filling them with her power and her presence; Galadriel tried to speak yet her words were silenced in the cracking of thunder. Again she cried out into the ears of the violent vengeful queen, whose gray thunder ridden eyes kept gazing at the bowl of water that rushed and whirled in the wind. Tathiril took the shimmering pale bowl and despite its normal weight, was forced to use her full strength, tipped it over to where it crashed and the lightning pale water spilled onto the floor of the Hirilorn. In anger the great queen sent out cry and threw the golden haired Noldo from her arm and grabbed hold of the Sindar maiden's neck with all her strength. Choking the dutiful maid servant she cried out in a voice filled with hatred and woe,
"Why did you touch the water!!!? You are NEVER to touch the water!"
"Stop Melian!! You do not mean to do this!"
The queen threw the gasping servant and turned with burning eyes toward the tall figure crowned in golden tresses and was about to strike her crying,
"Do not order me KIN-SLAYER, I AM THE QUEEN OF DORIATH!"
"YOU WOULD NOW BE THEIR DESTROYER HAD WE NOT STOPPED YOU!"
And Galadriel with all her strength blocked the blow of the queen and forced her toward the window where her fiery gaze was met with the storm torn lands of Neldoreth. Trees were uprooted from their ancient foundations and the land suffered a great and terrible wound, as a charred scar of earth tore across the land, where fires now blazed in the Girdle of Melian. It was then that the wrath of the Queen was broken and she knelt in tears before the window crying out in fear and sorrow; and as she wept a gentle rain fell from the war torn skies, as tears follow the anger of betrayal- far in the distance Mablung and Celeborn saw the river Aros calm and the skies become clear again, and embracing one another, wept at long last for their lord who lay in the great chamber awaiting burial fit for one as he.
Rosie & Sphinx: Thank you for your preliminary comments, hope you enjoyed this next enstallment
Edit: Thank you Shpinx for pointing out the mishap in the writing, forgive me, that would not have been a small problem considering the two people envolved, You saved me much embarassment thank you once again