When the Snow Falls Red
Chapter 9: Valandil's Mistake
Don't own.
-- -- -- --
Valandil stood quietly behind the tree, continuing to listen to the four elves that had escaped. He also found out that they had slipped Finwë the stomach flu. They gathered it from a sick animal, and had managed to get it to the Captain.
Feeling he had heard enough, and since the sky was beginning to darken, Valandil started to move away from the tree. As he stepped backwards, the back of his head made contact with a dry branch that was hanging from a tree. The end of the branch broke off, causing a slight cracking noise. Valandil stopped dead in his tracks.
The four elves heard the crack, and they stood, drawing the swords they had stolen. Moving forward, they caught glimpse of another elf standing behind the tree. They recognized this elf as the advisor for King Thranduil. They grinned at each other, and surrounded the elf.
"You made the mistake of following our footprints." Elerossë said.
"Indeed you did. Now you shall pay dearly." Fëanor said.
"Our days of sparing innocent lives are over." Daeron added.
"Good bye." Saeros finished, and the four moved closer to Valandil. The advisor turned, hoping to find a weak spot between them, but he was too slow. The four advanced on him, and unleashed their fury on the innocent elf.
"Come, my friends. Let us move." Elerossë said after they had finished with Valandil. They nodded and moved away from the elf. They put out the fire and disguised the area and made it look as if no one was there. Laughing to themselves, they left Valandil in the snow, his silvery blood escaping form the wounds on his body. His eyes fluttered, but they slid closed slowly.
-- -- -- --
It was some time before the Hall of Healing was calm again. Órelindë was finally able to sit down, with Uruviel and Lólindir taking care of her patients. She had allowed Thranduil and Aranel into the room; Thranduil was sitting with his daughter, and Aranel was sitting with Legolas.
None were aware of how late it had gotten. Not until the doors opened, and a member of the patrols stepped into the room. His dark hair held clumps of snow, and there was a light layer of snow on the stop of his head, and on his shoulders. His cheeks were rosey, and he looked tired. His uniform was damp as well, most likely from melting snow.
When he stepped into the room, the snow in his hair began to melt, leaving tiny puddles of water on the stone floor.
He bowed.
"Your majesty, may I have a word with you?" He asked politely, though somber, directing his attention to Thranduil. The king nodded and rose from his position beside Náessë. He followed the soldier from the room and they closed the door.
"What is it?" Thranduil asked, not enjoying the pained look on the elf's face. The soldier pulled himself up to full height, and took a deep long breath.
"Sire, I have bad news." He said. Thranduil's face fell. More bad news? He didn't think he could take much more.
"Proceed."
"While out on patrol in the forest, we..." He trailed off. This was hard. How could he tell the king, who was already under much stress as it was. Thranduil's face willed him to go on. "We found Valandil in the forest. He was beaten... bad. A pulse was found, but a very weak one. I fear... I fear he may not have much longer. He is being brought to the palace as we speak. They wanted to be careful. His wounds are great, and were obviously made from swords. Though, he found no trace of a struggle save from the print in the snow from Valandil's body, and the blood surrounding it."
Thranduil's mouth dropped open in a very unkingly way. What was Valandil doing in the forest alone... without guards? What had happened? Why no signs of a struggle? The questions coursed through Thranduil's mind. The soldier cast his eyes down to the floor, hating that he had to break the news to the king.
After a few awkard moments, Thranduil spoke. "Yes, bring him here." He said. The soldier nodded, bowed, and left the king in the hallway.
Thranduil held a thin hand to his forehead. He could not take much more of this. While he stood there, the door opened, and he smiled when he saw the form of Finwë appear at the door. "What was it?" He asked the king. Órelindë must have finally given him leave of his bed. The flu had been minor. Thranduil looked at his old friend. Brief memories of four young elflings flashed through his mind.
"Something has happened to Valandil." Thranduil said, looking at his friend in the eyes. Finwë's eyes widened in return.
"What... what happened to him?" He asked. His hands balled into fists.
"That I cannot answer. Only that he has many sword wounds and may not..." He could not finish. The tears he was holding back sprang to his eyes, and Finwë could only guess at what the rest of the sentence would be. Tears came to his eyes as well, and Captain and King let them fall, for the tears were always welcome in the company of close friends.
-- -- -- --
Luckily, Órelindë was prepared when they brought Valandil's body into the Hall of Healing. Unfortuanlty, she wasn't ready for what she saw. One glance at his body told her this was way beyond her skills, and no amount of novies could help. Elrond would be needed for this. She sighed. "Sire..." She said quietly. Thranduil moved to her side. She lowered her voice. "I cannot do this alone. You must send for Lord Elrond." She said.
"I do not know if he is back in Rivendell." Thranduil commented, his eyes bloodshot.
"Find him!" She cried out suddenly, unable to control herself. Valandil was not only the friend of Thranduil and Finwë, but also of herself.
--Flashback—
Órelindë sat on a small bench, picking the flowers that were growing nearby, and watching the training session for the young elflings of Greenwood. Amoung the group was her three best friends, Thranduil, the son of the king, Finwë, and Valandil. It was apparent to all that Valandil was not a fighter. Everyday he begged to be released of the training sessions. He didn't want to be a fighter. Though his Adar said that he would be a disgrace if he quit, Valandil didn't care. The last thing he ever wanted to do was have to fight.
Finally, Valandil took a harsh blow from an older and bigger elf, and it caused him to have a nose bleed. The outspoken, absolutely terrible fighter walked right up to the trainer, looking him square in the eye, and said, "I'm sorry, but I cannot do this! I quit!" Then he stomped away, one hand over his nose, and he took a seat beside Órelindë. She laughed at his misfortune, but admired the way he spoke to the trainer, who was still staring after the elfling.
"Let me help you with that. I just learned how to treat an injury such as this." Órelindë said, smiling. She pulled some herbs from a pocket in her dress, and stripped them of their leaves. "Chew." She commanded, and dropped them into his hand.
"How will chewing this help?" Valandil asked, his voice nasally from the hand over his nose.
"Because it will. Now do it."
Órelindë was always the controller, but she was always fighting with Finwë for command of their group. Finwë always called her a harsh mother, and she knew it was true. Her Naneth was the same way, harsh, yet gentle and loving.
Finwë was a natural leader, and Órelindë usually let him win their arguments, since she didn't want to hurt his feelings. She always had a little thing for the elf, but she would never tell anyone.
Then there was Thranduil, the son of the king, the next ruler of the kingdom. He was also a natural leader, but he was quieter than Finwë, and liked to read. It was only when he was angry that elves were truly afraid of him. He had the attitude of an angry bear when something upset him. Lucky for Middle Earth it didn't happen too often. He was a good fighter, like Finwë, and as she sat there, gathering flowers, she watched the two square off against each other.
When the day's entertainment, at least for Órelindë, was over, the four of them would wander off through the woods, talking, and listening to the songs of the trees.
On this particular day, they found a grassy area, and they sat down. "I think we should make a pact, here and now, to be friends forever." Thranduil said, leaning against a tree, looking up at the quivering leaves.
"Of course we will be friends, Thrandy." Finwë said, using the much hated nickname of Thranduil. Thranduil shoved his friend.
"No, honestly, let us never leave Greenwood. And we will not pass on. We have to promise to stay alive. And when we grow bored of Middle Earth, let us travel together on a gray ship, at the same time. That way, we will remain friends forever in the Undying Lands." Thranduil said.
The four friends looked at each other, and they smiled.
"Alright." Valandil confirmed. "But how will we seal the pact?" He asked.
Thranduil pulled a small dagger out of his boot. "Oh no..." Órelindë commented, eyeing the dagger.
"Oh come on, Orely, nothing too bad." Thranduil said, and he held the tip of the dagger against his palm. He pressed hard, and soon, a small bead of silvery blood appeared on his hand. He passed the dagger to Valandil who did the same. When the dagger reached Órelindë, she was hesitant.
"I don't know..." She said, looking down at the dagger in her hands.
"Come on Órelindë." Finwë said, his eyes sparkling. She smiled. She would do it for him. She pressed the dagger against her hand, and the blood appeared. She winced at the slight pain. She passed it to Finwë, and he too cut his hand. Then, after about thirty seconds, they pressed their hands against each others, making sure they made contact with the other three.
"This blood pact seals the promise we all made...to stay friends forever." Thranduil said.
"Aye!" His friends shouted.
--End Flashback--
Órelindë absentmindedly rubbed the scar that was still present on her hand. It was a wonder that the scar never faded. That day had been many, many years ago. As far as she knew, Thranduil still had that very same dagger.
Thranduil must have been thinking the same thing, for he looked at Órelindë, his hand rubbed the palm of the other. The tears in their eyes fell, rolling slowly down their cheeks, and meeting their jaw bones, before falling to the floor.
-- -- -- --
Woo! They pulled a Ya-Ya Sisterhood thing.
Also, I know that the blood thing is bad... cause of STDs and whatnot.. but hey... Middle Earth may not have them... haha. Oh well.
Reviewers:
Celebrain: That's always a good thing when they are fun. It's hard when there is no one you're age, and the only other person your age locked himself away in his cabin that his family rented because his favorite cousin wasn't at the reunion because she was going to college. Oy.KissTheRainGirl12489: I'll think about it... hehe.
Kelsey: Wanna know a secret. The way I found the elf names I use is that I went to a website that translates names into elvish, and then used a book I have of like, a ton of common and uncommon names, and just translated a whole bunch of them to get the names. That's all. Hehe. And Legolas wasn't trying to escape... heh.
Later all-
Blue September Rain