Jeez... this chapter took forever. I'm *reeeeaaaally* sorry about that. And it's horrid, too. The chapter, I mean. Grrr...
Okay, my recomendations are:
"Grey Skies" by K-da-great. It's already finished, so you don't have to wait for updates! And it's got Haldir! It's really good, but it's kinda sad... not sayin' why...
"My Storm" by Equinus. It's pretty good so far, and I really think that it'll only get better.
By the way, the song doesn't belong to me, either. It's written by Roma Ryan, performed by Enya. There, now no one can sue me. Ha!
Lol, anyway, I'll let you continue with this pathetic installment of TDS. I'm off!
^*^
The Dark Star
Part Seven
Rivendell
Adariel was sitting on a rock with her knees up to her chest when Rúmil found her, coming up behind her making absolutely no noise. Oblivious to him and to her steadily falling tears, Adariel sang in a surprisingly clear voice, believing that no one heard her.
"Pilgrim, how you journey
on the road you chose
to find out why the winds die
and where the stories go.
All days come from one day
that much you must know,
you cannot change what's over
but only where you go."
It was a rarely sung song with a double meaning that few understood until they'd actually felt both sides. It was a song about journeying, yes, but that didn't necessarily mean that it implied the typical journeying. The journey of the soul to the Halls of Mandos could easily be fitted to this, with the right frame of mind; the only way to find out "why the winds die" would be to see it happen. The living couldn't see that.
"One way leads to diamonds,
one way leads to gold,
another leads you only
to everything you're told.
In your hear you wonder which of these is true;
the road that leads to nowhere,
the road that leads to you.
"Will you find the answer
in all you say and do?
Will you find the answer
in you?"
It was a song that was typically voiced by children who were just beginning to speak and needed the practice, completely and happily unaware of the double meaning of the words they sang. Kept in perfectly content inadvertence to the grip the words had on the hearts of many, flippantly throwing the words about, believing that, as immortals, they would never have to deal with the pain of death.
He had once, a very long time ago, been one of those children, and he himself had never expected to be so involved with death, nor did he ever expect to meet someone such as Lady Adariel whose world had been torn to shreds by it.
Of course, what child ever fought to find the depressing hidden meaning?
"Each heart is a pilgrim,
each one wants to know
the reason why the winds die
and where the stories go.
Pilgrim in your journey
you may travel far,
for pilgrim it's a long way
to find out who you are..."
She looked down, and Rúmil continued forward. "Your words are voiced beautifully, my Lady, but are rather depressing" he commented.
Adariel whirled, having not heard the Sentinel's approach. Once she saw who it was, however, she turned back around, letting her feet slide to dangle off the rock. "Depressing words for depressing times, Lord Rúmil." She sighed, watching the snow fall. "I learned the words as a small child, but I never realized their meaning. Their alternate meaning, I mean. It is rare that a young one believes that death will ever touch them, and so they sing, never considering that for all we do not die of age, though we do age in a mortal sense, we can still die."
"No child should grow up thinking of nothing but death," he said gently as he came forward.
"No child should grow up without a father," she countered with an air of grieving absence.
"No one mentioned children without fathers," he said.
She laughed bitterly. "You're right. But then, what does this make my niece? A dancing bear? The child has no father."
Rúmil blinked. He remembered Adariel speaking of Nurardaion's wife and daughter, but hadn't really given it another thought. If Haldir or Orophin had been married with a young child, and both had died during an attack under circumstances similar to Adariel's, he would probably feel intense grief as well.
'But her grief is beyond intense;' a quiet voice countered, 'it borders suicidal!'
Ignoring the thought only because he knew she wouldn't yet be open to it, he continued forward, then leaned on the rock beside her. "You believe that is your doing?" he asked neutrally, choosing the subtle way of going about things. He had the funny feeling that bluntly telling her that her siblings' deaths were *not* her fault and she was blind for not seeing that fact wouldn't be very well received.
"Yes," she whispered, and Rúmil fought to sigh in pity, and even a bit of frustration.
"What could you have done? Had you stopped whatever happened from happening, you only would have died."
She looked at him, and her gaze was surprisingly cold and harsh. "I should have stopped it," she snarled. "My sister has more friends than hairs on her head, and my brother is married with a child, and yet because of my cowardice both of them are gone." Suddenly he found her on her feet, and her glare was so totally opposite of her personality it was frightening. "And nothing can bring them back." Her grated snarl was the same, and before he could recover from his shock she whirled and marched back the direction from which she came.
Rúmil sighed. Perhaps there was more behind the Lady's reaction than what appeared, but it seemed to him, though it was a somewhat far fetched concept, that she was *afraid* to let anyone but herself take the blame for her siblings' deaths. Maybe it was wishful - yes, wishful; he didn't want to think that any Elf would *want* to bring that sort of pain to themselves - thinking, to believe this, but somehow it made sense. Adariel Morelen was clearly not one to allow others to suffer in her stead, and assuming the blame for Nurardaion's and Aradalien's deaths kept most of the hurt from others. Hurt that should have been evenly distributed was placed squarely on her shoulders, and for all she had clearly brought it upon herself willingly, she was stumbling under the weight.
^*^
How *dare* he suggest that there was nothing she could have done?! *Everything* was her fault, there was no way around it! What could anyone could have done? Uncle Elrond hadn't been there, her 'second siblings' hadn't been there, no one had been there, the blame was hers, and hers alone! She would *not,* under *any* circumstances, attempt to shift the blame onto someone who didn't deserve it!
Positively fuming at the prospect of evading what she felt she deserved, Adariel stormed through the gently falling snow back to the others. But she never expected them to be gathered around her brother's form, looking grim and rather confused.
She froze, but her slight movement had been noticed; Haldir, followed by the others, looked up at her, and several suddenly looked rather awkward. Of course their commander didn't, he was never awkward; he was emotionless... to all appearances, anyway.
Her thoughts weren't displayed on her face, and instead she simply stared at them. "What happened?" Adariel demanded.
"My Lady, perhaps you should see this," Haldir said. His tone was odd. Well, perhaps not odd; it was puzzled. The odd thing was that Haldir of Lothlórien was never puzzled. Or, at least, Adariel had never seen him that way, and she found it hard to believe that the Marchwarden was confused often.
Pushing that thought and her badly contained anger away, Adariel slowly approached them. Haldir held something out to her, which she took but very nearly dropped not half an instant later.
The arrow head of the Rivendell bolt was bloodstained, and the thing was snapped in half. The feathers were mangled and dirty with flecks of blood. The frightening thing was that it was clearly not orc blood; it was Elven.
Her hands began to shake as Adariel moved fearful eyes to the Marchwarden, for once not caring about her transparency. "Where did you find this?" she asked, voice trembling.
"Your brother," he said simply, his voice quiet.
She nearly let the arrows fall from her hand, but instead her fingers closed around them. Surely she hadn't... Her own brother... But she was always careful about aiming... Adariel cast her eyes downward, then squeezed them shut and asked in a stronger voice, "Where?"
"His back."
Her eyes snapped open. "His back?" Adariel repeated. How on earth...?
"Yes," Haldir replied, his voice half an instant slower than normal.
If she hadn't been severely instructed at a *very* young age that women did *not* curse, she would have started swearing enough to rival the crudest Man. Cursing her grief, her confusion, her guilt, every orc that had ever and would ever walk the face of the earth, and a particular Elf - and not the Marchwarden of Lothlórien. Because there was no way that she could have shot her brother, not in the back.
But her guilt, grief, and confusion wouldn't leave it at that. Of course it wouldn't; she didn't deserve the peace of knowing without proof. She didn't deserve anything.
"Let me see," Adariel said directly.
Sûlthalion blinked. "What?" he demanded.
"My Lady, is that wi-"
"Let me see," she repeated, her voice lower and more commanding; a tone she rarely used.
It wasn't a surprise that they all looked to Haldir for approval. But it was a disappointment. The absolutely (confusing...) infuriating Marchwarden seemed to believe what he felt was best for her was a sort of regulation that she should follow. And that was simply from pure duty! To be quite honest, Adariel would not have liked to see what he was like if he truly had some sort of feeling.
But she was surprised when Haldir met her gaze, then suddenly said, "Do as you will, my Lady. I'll not stop you."
Adariel ignored her trembling hands and the voice inside her that screamed that nothing good would come of this as she knelt beside her brother's form once more. Her resolve nearly crumbled at the sight of her brother's lifeless and pale face, but Adariel knew that she would reach no answers by crying and singing old children's songs.
She reached out once more, fighting the nearly over wheeling urge to cry, which seemed to be an urge that attacked often. She swallowed and gently rolled her brother over, feeling like a monster for disrespecting him so.
Realizing what had to be done, she let her healing training take over, and she studied the wounds in Nurardaion's back. The cut from the blade was there, on his right side, from his shoulder blade to the bottom of his rib cage, and deep enough to bleed incredible amounts but not deep enough to mean inevitable death. Probable death, yes, but not inevitable.
The arrow wound, however, was right were his heart was supposed to be.
Adariel lowered him back down numbly and stood, shocked to the core. "My Lady?" someone - she didn't notice who - asked, concerned.
"It was the arrow. The arrow killed him," she murmured faintly.
"But who shot it?" someone else asked.
Adariel moved, half in a daze, toward where she and Aradalien had stood on the night of the attack. She turned and faced the place where Nurardaion had stood and murmured, "I stood here." Then she moved forward again, to where she'd caught him. She faced the direction Nurar had; her back was directly facing the pile of large rocks. "And Nurar stood here..."
She whirled. "It came from the stones, didn't it?" she demanded.
Haldir didn't respond, and neither did any of the others. But they didn't have to, she knew the answer.
"Do you know of anyone who would want to see your brother dead?" Orophin asked.
"Yes," was her grim response. "Yes, I do."
^*^
Six days later
She'd spoken little since they'd come to the place where her brother had died, and had eaten even less. If they noticed (they were acting rather distracted, in fact, so it was doubtful), none of the men commented on this, of course; they left that to Haldir. Let *him* tell her that she was too thin, even for an Elf. Though she was at the very least half a foot shorter than any and all of them, she could still be quite intimidating if she wanted to be. The problem, however, was that Haldir himself didn't seem to notice. Whatever reverie had its grip on Adariel also seemed to have a grip on the Marchwarden, though he did actually eat.
The sky over head was a depressing gray, and the mood of the clouds was mirrored in her eyes. Their vibrant color looked as if it had faded, but no one noticed that either; she kept her eyes from ever meeting anyone's, bar Gil-luin.
She would meet the eyes of a horse, but not those of a fellow Elf. The irony.
It couldn't be helped, she decided, when the thought that Noviel might never forgive her crossed her mind. And it would have been understandable. How could she expect someone to forgive her for deaths that she caused? Would Adariel forgive Noviel, if the roles were reversed? Yes, but that wasn't the point. Adariel herself deserved no forgiveness, and wouldn't be surprised if they banished her from the company of Elves until the end of the earth. It was no less than she deserved.
But whatever it was that her Rivendell counterparts felt she deserved, she would know of soon. They would be arriving at Imladris within moments.
Adariel knew the area around Rivendell almost as well as she knew the Elven-haven itself. Most of her younger years had been spent, after all, chasing and being chased by her friends and siblings and 'second siblings.'
The naive innocence of her childhood was enviable. Her chastity hadn't nearly been compromised, and her siblings were as far from dead as Adariel herself was from joining a band of orcs. Responsibilities were next to nothing, and the most she had to worry about was making it home in time for dinner.
Peering at the colorful forest around them dully, she wondered, where did it all go? When had she changed from child to adult, gaining all the troubles with it? She had gone from blissful child to happy yet incredibly busy adult to pathetic excuse of an Elf who had lost the will to live.
Both changes had seemed so sudden. Adariel had gone to bed one night a child, then seemed to wake up the next morning the First Healer of Lord Elrond's infirmary, the Head Librarian of Rivendell's grand library, an assistant instructor at archery, an assistant midwife, occasionally a cook in the kitchens, and the one who would listen to anyone and everyone vent their problems, then do her best to help them. She had dedicated so much of her life to others, and the one time she did *not* do that, her siblings were killed.
'Siblings?' she thought suddenly. 'Only Nurar is assuredly dead; you don't know what happened to Aradalien.'
Adariel's throat and chest tightened, and once more she fought tears. 'If only I could just let them fall... But I must not. Those in my position are not permitted to cry.'
Unconscious of what she was doing, Adariel moved forward until she was at the front of the small throng, lifting her chin stubbornly and blinking back the tears she refused to let fall.
Everything seemed to slow as she entered through the archway that led into Imladris. The wind itself, that had been tossing her currently wavy hair, slowed, creating a strange sort of vacuum that stole her breath and blew her hair gently. The gray gown swirled. But everything abruptly stopped as she passed the entryway, and all movement within the Elven-city was included.
Adariel walked forward enough to allow those following her to enter completely. The sentries around Rivendell - which Adariel had been too far in the possession of apathy to notice - had already reported the arrival of Elves coming in from the south, and from the gathering of Elves in the courtyard, all of whom were beaming at her, it seemed that Adariel and her siblings were expected.
Celebnoviel was the first she noticed, holding little Elencaran, and with her stood Malfalothien, or Mal, the declared queen of the kitchens. Not far from them stood Arwen, flanked by her two brothers. Elrond gazed down at them from the steps. She never noticed the figure hiding in the shadows, watching her very breath.
There were others, but Adariel couldn't seem to focus; they could have been orcs and she never would have known. There were children, though. "The children must go," she said quietly, and the joyous smiles fell to looks of concern.
"Adariel?" someone queried. All of these people knew full well that she would never make children leave unless they absolutely had to...
"They cannot see-" She broke off and her composure crumbled as someone ushered the children away, taking Elencaran with them.
No sooner had they gone than the makeshift platform carrying the body of Nurardaion was brought forward just enough for it to be seen. There was a tormented cry from someone in the courtyard before her.
Noviel stood staring, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide with horror. She glanced at Adariel then sobbed and was gathered up Mal, who stood there, holding her and doing her best to comfort the severely distraught Noviel. Adariel squeezed her eyes shut, quite ready to collapse and never wake up.
Standing behind her, Haldir saw her strength begin to crumble at the same time Elrond and his children did. A woman standing in the courtyard to Haldir's right let her hand fall slowly from her mouth. "Lady Adariel," she breathed, "what happened?"
Haldir scowled darkly without realizing it. The 'What did you do?' undertone of *this* woman's tone was obvious, and uncalled for. Part of Lady Adariel's silence over he past several days suddenly became clear: Adariel was afraid of her people's reactions. So far, if he was any judge, they either didn't acknowledge her existence (bar the Lord of Rivendell and his children), or felt that she was to blame.
Perhaps it was because not even Elrond and his family moved forward to greet and comfort Adariel, or perhaps it was the accusatory gazes that some of them held, but he stepped forward, as if to place a protective hand on her shoulder, but managed to smother the uncharacteristic urge, though he did not move back, remaining two steps behind her.
A she-Elf to his left - Nurardaion's wife, unless he was mistaken - let out an anguished sob, and several Elves flocked to her as she struggled to keep her tears silent. One of the dark haired she-Elves turned and pointed at Adariel.
"You!" she screeched. "You did this!"
"No!"
The cry came from the sobbing wife of Nurardaion, surprising them all. "This couldn't have been Adariel's doing, he is her brother!"
"Your point?" the original Elf demanded icily. "We all know why she left in such a hurry-"
"Really, can't you tell that the poor girl is grieving? You should retain accusations until *after* the accused is through mourning, should you not?"
Upon seeing the speaker, Adariel took a step back without realizing it. The speaker came forward, looking far too casual for the situation. The man had dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark demeanor, his smug half smirk easy to dislike, particularly amongst so many tears. The smooth voice was dripping with sarcasm and ill intent, but to whom this was directed, Haldir was uncertain.
His advance toward Adariel became more hunter-like; a predator nearing its prey. She stepped back another half step. "Of course," he continued, "there is always a chance that she is lying." Haldir heard her soft intake of breath, but the man before them paid no heed. "But that is doubtful."
Adariel watched him, suddenly feeling trapped. He knew she was afraid. He always knew, nothing would change that. She stepped back again, subconsciously trying to place as much space between her and Dimalphion as possible, only to run into something warm and solid. Not realizing what she had backed into, she pressed herself against it, clearly terrified.
Dimalphion saw who, exactly, Adariel had backed into, and stopped. Haldir couldn't decide if the gaze held contempt or curiosity, but soon the smirk reappeared. He nodded mockingly, said, "Lady Adariel," in parting, and turned on his heel to leave.
Arwen rushed forward as Adariel stumbled forward. The Undómiel gripped the Morelen gently yet tightly as she made her way toward the Lord Elrond. Adariel looked up at him, then collapsed in his arms, the Elf Lord assuming the role of a father instead of counterfeit uncle as he helped her into the House.
The two twins exchanged words, then one came forward as the other followed his father and sister. "I am Elrohir of Imladris," he said, offering his hand.
Haldir gripped his forearm. "I am Haldir, and these are my brothers, Rumíl and Orophin."
Elrohir smiled slightly. "You are renouned, Marchwarden." He sighed heavily as his gaze shifted to the covered form of Nurardaion. "He was like almost like a brother to me, to us." He looked up. "This way. Someone will clean him up. The memorial will be later."
Haldir nodded and gestured to his men to follow him as he followed the son of Elrond.
^*^
Ick ick ick!!! That was horrible! I'm soooo sorry about the wait, too. Give me an honest assessment; how terrible is this chapter? Be honest!
- Hugs from
Carlee
Okay, my recomendations are:
"Grey Skies" by K-da-great. It's already finished, so you don't have to wait for updates! And it's got Haldir! It's really good, but it's kinda sad... not sayin' why...
"My Storm" by Equinus. It's pretty good so far, and I really think that it'll only get better.
By the way, the song doesn't belong to me, either. It's written by Roma Ryan, performed by Enya. There, now no one can sue me. Ha!
Lol, anyway, I'll let you continue with this pathetic installment of TDS. I'm off!
^*^
The Dark Star
Part Seven
Rivendell
Adariel was sitting on a rock with her knees up to her chest when Rúmil found her, coming up behind her making absolutely no noise. Oblivious to him and to her steadily falling tears, Adariel sang in a surprisingly clear voice, believing that no one heard her.
"Pilgrim, how you journey
on the road you chose
to find out why the winds die
and where the stories go.
All days come from one day
that much you must know,
you cannot change what's over
but only where you go."
It was a rarely sung song with a double meaning that few understood until they'd actually felt both sides. It was a song about journeying, yes, but that didn't necessarily mean that it implied the typical journeying. The journey of the soul to the Halls of Mandos could easily be fitted to this, with the right frame of mind; the only way to find out "why the winds die" would be to see it happen. The living couldn't see that.
"One way leads to diamonds,
one way leads to gold,
another leads you only
to everything you're told.
In your hear you wonder which of these is true;
the road that leads to nowhere,
the road that leads to you.
"Will you find the answer
in all you say and do?
Will you find the answer
in you?"
It was a song that was typically voiced by children who were just beginning to speak and needed the practice, completely and happily unaware of the double meaning of the words they sang. Kept in perfectly content inadvertence to the grip the words had on the hearts of many, flippantly throwing the words about, believing that, as immortals, they would never have to deal with the pain of death.
He had once, a very long time ago, been one of those children, and he himself had never expected to be so involved with death, nor did he ever expect to meet someone such as Lady Adariel whose world had been torn to shreds by it.
Of course, what child ever fought to find the depressing hidden meaning?
"Each heart is a pilgrim,
each one wants to know
the reason why the winds die
and where the stories go.
Pilgrim in your journey
you may travel far,
for pilgrim it's a long way
to find out who you are..."
She looked down, and Rúmil continued forward. "Your words are voiced beautifully, my Lady, but are rather depressing" he commented.
Adariel whirled, having not heard the Sentinel's approach. Once she saw who it was, however, she turned back around, letting her feet slide to dangle off the rock. "Depressing words for depressing times, Lord Rúmil." She sighed, watching the snow fall. "I learned the words as a small child, but I never realized their meaning. Their alternate meaning, I mean. It is rare that a young one believes that death will ever touch them, and so they sing, never considering that for all we do not die of age, though we do age in a mortal sense, we can still die."
"No child should grow up thinking of nothing but death," he said gently as he came forward.
"No child should grow up without a father," she countered with an air of grieving absence.
"No one mentioned children without fathers," he said.
She laughed bitterly. "You're right. But then, what does this make my niece? A dancing bear? The child has no father."
Rúmil blinked. He remembered Adariel speaking of Nurardaion's wife and daughter, but hadn't really given it another thought. If Haldir or Orophin had been married with a young child, and both had died during an attack under circumstances similar to Adariel's, he would probably feel intense grief as well.
'But her grief is beyond intense;' a quiet voice countered, 'it borders suicidal!'
Ignoring the thought only because he knew she wouldn't yet be open to it, he continued forward, then leaned on the rock beside her. "You believe that is your doing?" he asked neutrally, choosing the subtle way of going about things. He had the funny feeling that bluntly telling her that her siblings' deaths were *not* her fault and she was blind for not seeing that fact wouldn't be very well received.
"Yes," she whispered, and Rúmil fought to sigh in pity, and even a bit of frustration.
"What could you have done? Had you stopped whatever happened from happening, you only would have died."
She looked at him, and her gaze was surprisingly cold and harsh. "I should have stopped it," she snarled. "My sister has more friends than hairs on her head, and my brother is married with a child, and yet because of my cowardice both of them are gone." Suddenly he found her on her feet, and her glare was so totally opposite of her personality it was frightening. "And nothing can bring them back." Her grated snarl was the same, and before he could recover from his shock she whirled and marched back the direction from which she came.
Rúmil sighed. Perhaps there was more behind the Lady's reaction than what appeared, but it seemed to him, though it was a somewhat far fetched concept, that she was *afraid* to let anyone but herself take the blame for her siblings' deaths. Maybe it was wishful - yes, wishful; he didn't want to think that any Elf would *want* to bring that sort of pain to themselves - thinking, to believe this, but somehow it made sense. Adariel Morelen was clearly not one to allow others to suffer in her stead, and assuming the blame for Nurardaion's and Aradalien's deaths kept most of the hurt from others. Hurt that should have been evenly distributed was placed squarely on her shoulders, and for all she had clearly brought it upon herself willingly, she was stumbling under the weight.
^*^
How *dare* he suggest that there was nothing she could have done?! *Everything* was her fault, there was no way around it! What could anyone could have done? Uncle Elrond hadn't been there, her 'second siblings' hadn't been there, no one had been there, the blame was hers, and hers alone! She would *not,* under *any* circumstances, attempt to shift the blame onto someone who didn't deserve it!
Positively fuming at the prospect of evading what she felt she deserved, Adariel stormed through the gently falling snow back to the others. But she never expected them to be gathered around her brother's form, looking grim and rather confused.
She froze, but her slight movement had been noticed; Haldir, followed by the others, looked up at her, and several suddenly looked rather awkward. Of course their commander didn't, he was never awkward; he was emotionless... to all appearances, anyway.
Her thoughts weren't displayed on her face, and instead she simply stared at them. "What happened?" Adariel demanded.
"My Lady, perhaps you should see this," Haldir said. His tone was odd. Well, perhaps not odd; it was puzzled. The odd thing was that Haldir of Lothlórien was never puzzled. Or, at least, Adariel had never seen him that way, and she found it hard to believe that the Marchwarden was confused often.
Pushing that thought and her badly contained anger away, Adariel slowly approached them. Haldir held something out to her, which she took but very nearly dropped not half an instant later.
The arrow head of the Rivendell bolt was bloodstained, and the thing was snapped in half. The feathers were mangled and dirty with flecks of blood. The frightening thing was that it was clearly not orc blood; it was Elven.
Her hands began to shake as Adariel moved fearful eyes to the Marchwarden, for once not caring about her transparency. "Where did you find this?" she asked, voice trembling.
"Your brother," he said simply, his voice quiet.
She nearly let the arrows fall from her hand, but instead her fingers closed around them. Surely she hadn't... Her own brother... But she was always careful about aiming... Adariel cast her eyes downward, then squeezed them shut and asked in a stronger voice, "Where?"
"His back."
Her eyes snapped open. "His back?" Adariel repeated. How on earth...?
"Yes," Haldir replied, his voice half an instant slower than normal.
If she hadn't been severely instructed at a *very* young age that women did *not* curse, she would have started swearing enough to rival the crudest Man. Cursing her grief, her confusion, her guilt, every orc that had ever and would ever walk the face of the earth, and a particular Elf - and not the Marchwarden of Lothlórien. Because there was no way that she could have shot her brother, not in the back.
But her guilt, grief, and confusion wouldn't leave it at that. Of course it wouldn't; she didn't deserve the peace of knowing without proof. She didn't deserve anything.
"Let me see," Adariel said directly.
Sûlthalion blinked. "What?" he demanded.
"My Lady, is that wi-"
"Let me see," she repeated, her voice lower and more commanding; a tone she rarely used.
It wasn't a surprise that they all looked to Haldir for approval. But it was a disappointment. The absolutely (confusing...) infuriating Marchwarden seemed to believe what he felt was best for her was a sort of regulation that she should follow. And that was simply from pure duty! To be quite honest, Adariel would not have liked to see what he was like if he truly had some sort of feeling.
But she was surprised when Haldir met her gaze, then suddenly said, "Do as you will, my Lady. I'll not stop you."
Adariel ignored her trembling hands and the voice inside her that screamed that nothing good would come of this as she knelt beside her brother's form once more. Her resolve nearly crumbled at the sight of her brother's lifeless and pale face, but Adariel knew that she would reach no answers by crying and singing old children's songs.
She reached out once more, fighting the nearly over wheeling urge to cry, which seemed to be an urge that attacked often. She swallowed and gently rolled her brother over, feeling like a monster for disrespecting him so.
Realizing what had to be done, she let her healing training take over, and she studied the wounds in Nurardaion's back. The cut from the blade was there, on his right side, from his shoulder blade to the bottom of his rib cage, and deep enough to bleed incredible amounts but not deep enough to mean inevitable death. Probable death, yes, but not inevitable.
The arrow wound, however, was right were his heart was supposed to be.
Adariel lowered him back down numbly and stood, shocked to the core. "My Lady?" someone - she didn't notice who - asked, concerned.
"It was the arrow. The arrow killed him," she murmured faintly.
"But who shot it?" someone else asked.
Adariel moved, half in a daze, toward where she and Aradalien had stood on the night of the attack. She turned and faced the place where Nurardaion had stood and murmured, "I stood here." Then she moved forward again, to where she'd caught him. She faced the direction Nurar had; her back was directly facing the pile of large rocks. "And Nurar stood here..."
She whirled. "It came from the stones, didn't it?" she demanded.
Haldir didn't respond, and neither did any of the others. But they didn't have to, she knew the answer.
"Do you know of anyone who would want to see your brother dead?" Orophin asked.
"Yes," was her grim response. "Yes, I do."
^*^
Six days later
She'd spoken little since they'd come to the place where her brother had died, and had eaten even less. If they noticed (they were acting rather distracted, in fact, so it was doubtful), none of the men commented on this, of course; they left that to Haldir. Let *him* tell her that she was too thin, even for an Elf. Though she was at the very least half a foot shorter than any and all of them, she could still be quite intimidating if she wanted to be. The problem, however, was that Haldir himself didn't seem to notice. Whatever reverie had its grip on Adariel also seemed to have a grip on the Marchwarden, though he did actually eat.
The sky over head was a depressing gray, and the mood of the clouds was mirrored in her eyes. Their vibrant color looked as if it had faded, but no one noticed that either; she kept her eyes from ever meeting anyone's, bar Gil-luin.
She would meet the eyes of a horse, but not those of a fellow Elf. The irony.
It couldn't be helped, she decided, when the thought that Noviel might never forgive her crossed her mind. And it would have been understandable. How could she expect someone to forgive her for deaths that she caused? Would Adariel forgive Noviel, if the roles were reversed? Yes, but that wasn't the point. Adariel herself deserved no forgiveness, and wouldn't be surprised if they banished her from the company of Elves until the end of the earth. It was no less than she deserved.
But whatever it was that her Rivendell counterparts felt she deserved, she would know of soon. They would be arriving at Imladris within moments.
Adariel knew the area around Rivendell almost as well as she knew the Elven-haven itself. Most of her younger years had been spent, after all, chasing and being chased by her friends and siblings and 'second siblings.'
The naive innocence of her childhood was enviable. Her chastity hadn't nearly been compromised, and her siblings were as far from dead as Adariel herself was from joining a band of orcs. Responsibilities were next to nothing, and the most she had to worry about was making it home in time for dinner.
Peering at the colorful forest around them dully, she wondered, where did it all go? When had she changed from child to adult, gaining all the troubles with it? She had gone from blissful child to happy yet incredibly busy adult to pathetic excuse of an Elf who had lost the will to live.
Both changes had seemed so sudden. Adariel had gone to bed one night a child, then seemed to wake up the next morning the First Healer of Lord Elrond's infirmary, the Head Librarian of Rivendell's grand library, an assistant instructor at archery, an assistant midwife, occasionally a cook in the kitchens, and the one who would listen to anyone and everyone vent their problems, then do her best to help them. She had dedicated so much of her life to others, and the one time she did *not* do that, her siblings were killed.
'Siblings?' she thought suddenly. 'Only Nurar is assuredly dead; you don't know what happened to Aradalien.'
Adariel's throat and chest tightened, and once more she fought tears. 'If only I could just let them fall... But I must not. Those in my position are not permitted to cry.'
Unconscious of what she was doing, Adariel moved forward until she was at the front of the small throng, lifting her chin stubbornly and blinking back the tears she refused to let fall.
Everything seemed to slow as she entered through the archway that led into Imladris. The wind itself, that had been tossing her currently wavy hair, slowed, creating a strange sort of vacuum that stole her breath and blew her hair gently. The gray gown swirled. But everything abruptly stopped as she passed the entryway, and all movement within the Elven-city was included.
Adariel walked forward enough to allow those following her to enter completely. The sentries around Rivendell - which Adariel had been too far in the possession of apathy to notice - had already reported the arrival of Elves coming in from the south, and from the gathering of Elves in the courtyard, all of whom were beaming at her, it seemed that Adariel and her siblings were expected.
Celebnoviel was the first she noticed, holding little Elencaran, and with her stood Malfalothien, or Mal, the declared queen of the kitchens. Not far from them stood Arwen, flanked by her two brothers. Elrond gazed down at them from the steps. She never noticed the figure hiding in the shadows, watching her very breath.
There were others, but Adariel couldn't seem to focus; they could have been orcs and she never would have known. There were children, though. "The children must go," she said quietly, and the joyous smiles fell to looks of concern.
"Adariel?" someone queried. All of these people knew full well that she would never make children leave unless they absolutely had to...
"They cannot see-" She broke off and her composure crumbled as someone ushered the children away, taking Elencaran with them.
No sooner had they gone than the makeshift platform carrying the body of Nurardaion was brought forward just enough for it to be seen. There was a tormented cry from someone in the courtyard before her.
Noviel stood staring, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide with horror. She glanced at Adariel then sobbed and was gathered up Mal, who stood there, holding her and doing her best to comfort the severely distraught Noviel. Adariel squeezed her eyes shut, quite ready to collapse and never wake up.
Standing behind her, Haldir saw her strength begin to crumble at the same time Elrond and his children did. A woman standing in the courtyard to Haldir's right let her hand fall slowly from her mouth. "Lady Adariel," she breathed, "what happened?"
Haldir scowled darkly without realizing it. The 'What did you do?' undertone of *this* woman's tone was obvious, and uncalled for. Part of Lady Adariel's silence over he past several days suddenly became clear: Adariel was afraid of her people's reactions. So far, if he was any judge, they either didn't acknowledge her existence (bar the Lord of Rivendell and his children), or felt that she was to blame.
Perhaps it was because not even Elrond and his family moved forward to greet and comfort Adariel, or perhaps it was the accusatory gazes that some of them held, but he stepped forward, as if to place a protective hand on her shoulder, but managed to smother the uncharacteristic urge, though he did not move back, remaining two steps behind her.
A she-Elf to his left - Nurardaion's wife, unless he was mistaken - let out an anguished sob, and several Elves flocked to her as she struggled to keep her tears silent. One of the dark haired she-Elves turned and pointed at Adariel.
"You!" she screeched. "You did this!"
"No!"
The cry came from the sobbing wife of Nurardaion, surprising them all. "This couldn't have been Adariel's doing, he is her brother!"
"Your point?" the original Elf demanded icily. "We all know why she left in such a hurry-"
"Really, can't you tell that the poor girl is grieving? You should retain accusations until *after* the accused is through mourning, should you not?"
Upon seeing the speaker, Adariel took a step back without realizing it. The speaker came forward, looking far too casual for the situation. The man had dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark demeanor, his smug half smirk easy to dislike, particularly amongst so many tears. The smooth voice was dripping with sarcasm and ill intent, but to whom this was directed, Haldir was uncertain.
His advance toward Adariel became more hunter-like; a predator nearing its prey. She stepped back another half step. "Of course," he continued, "there is always a chance that she is lying." Haldir heard her soft intake of breath, but the man before them paid no heed. "But that is doubtful."
Adariel watched him, suddenly feeling trapped. He knew she was afraid. He always knew, nothing would change that. She stepped back again, subconsciously trying to place as much space between her and Dimalphion as possible, only to run into something warm and solid. Not realizing what she had backed into, she pressed herself against it, clearly terrified.
Dimalphion saw who, exactly, Adariel had backed into, and stopped. Haldir couldn't decide if the gaze held contempt or curiosity, but soon the smirk reappeared. He nodded mockingly, said, "Lady Adariel," in parting, and turned on his heel to leave.
Arwen rushed forward as Adariel stumbled forward. The Undómiel gripped the Morelen gently yet tightly as she made her way toward the Lord Elrond. Adariel looked up at him, then collapsed in his arms, the Elf Lord assuming the role of a father instead of counterfeit uncle as he helped her into the House.
The two twins exchanged words, then one came forward as the other followed his father and sister. "I am Elrohir of Imladris," he said, offering his hand.
Haldir gripped his forearm. "I am Haldir, and these are my brothers, Rumíl and Orophin."
Elrohir smiled slightly. "You are renouned, Marchwarden." He sighed heavily as his gaze shifted to the covered form of Nurardaion. "He was like almost like a brother to me, to us." He looked up. "This way. Someone will clean him up. The memorial will be later."
Haldir nodded and gestured to his men to follow him as he followed the son of Elrond.
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Ick ick ick!!! That was horrible! I'm soooo sorry about the wait, too. Give me an honest assessment; how terrible is this chapter? Be honest!
- Hugs from
Carlee