Chapter Nineteen: Victory and Loss
Mélanyë looked around her in awe. She stood in a vast stone hall of glittering walls and tall pillars. Lindir stood silently beside her. She knew he saw her but it was as if he was unable to look at her. Before them stood Mandos.
He looked them over critically, first Lindir, then Mélanyë. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mandos raised a hand, and she felt herself pushed backwards.
'Not you...'
She opened her eyes with a start and found herself back in Fangorn Forest, laying over the body of her beloved. She felt her cheeks, and found her skin cold. Trembling, she looked back to Lindir's face that was now drained of all color. She grasped one of his hands, and dropped it suddenly.
It felt like ice.
Looking up she now saw that the eastern sky was growing light. She looked back to Lindir. 'This wasn't supposed to happen!' she lamented, caressing his face with her hand, 'It should have been me! It was me in the dream!' She picked up his hand again and clutched it to her chest, pressing her lips to his cold fingers. She felt warm tears slide down her face and watched as they fell like rain onto his tunic. At that moment she felt as if she had been struck by some fell blade and felt her heart breaking within her, thinking she would die beside him.
She looked down again at Lindir's hand in hers and saw them both stained red and black. She replaced Lindir's hand on his chest and drew Laspis. It shone a dim jade in the growing light and her small hand gripped the hilt tightly. Anger swelled in her once more.
In blind fury she ran back to the battle, slaying any Orc who dared come near with swift efficiency. Fear was gone. She no longer cared for her own safety; all that mattered to her at that moment was avenging Lindir, vainly attempting to take back what had been stolen from her. The ground was littered with dead Orcs and the battle still raged fiercely, but she saw that the enemy's numbers were dwindling.
She spotted her bow on the ground and in one fluid motion she picked it up, fitted it with an arrow and fired at the Orc that was running towards her. It fell dead not two metres in front of her. Reaching for another arrow, she found her quiver empty. Without thinking, she pulled an arrow from the nearest dead Orc and fired it at another that had come up behind her. It struck it in the shoulder, and the thing pulled it out. Before she could draw Laspis, the huge creature knocked her to the ground. Desperately trying to remember her training, she pulled herself to her feet and fought with it until finally she had it on the ground where she could stab it with her sword.
Several more Orcs came at her, and she managed to dispatch with each of them, but the battles began to take their toll on her quickly. She was bruised all over, and the blow to the head began to impair her vision. Black spots swam over her eyes and she staggered through the battlefield.
Another large Uruk attacked from behind and knocked her down. Dazed, it took her a second to react. She rolled under the huge beast and stabbed its leg with her sword. Not waiting for it to attack, she scrambled to her feet and with all of her strength, shoved the creature to the ground After stabbing it in the chest with her elven blade, she turned away, disgusted. The sight of the dead Orc stayed with her, however, and she felt her stomach turn.
"No...not again.." she groaned and swallowed hard. She saw the other Orc charging towards her just in time to block the blow aimed at her head. What she didn't see was the dagger in it's other hand which it stabbed into her side. She cried out and stumbled backwards, falling over the dead Orc behind her as blinding pain seared her abdomen. Suddenly she felt herself overcome with an extreme weariness and realized that she couldn't get up. Looking up, she saw her attacker raise its blade for the death blow and she closed her eyes to accept her fate. The blow never came. Opening her eyes, she blearily saw an arrow buried in the Orc's neck before giving in to the darkness.
A red dawn stained the sky when Mélanyë woke. The first thing she was aware of was the pain. Her entire body ached, and her side was on fire. Memories of the battle flooded back to her: images of Lindir's lifeless eyes, dead Orcs, and her own hands stained with blood. Her stomach turned once more and she groaned. Almost immediately, a silver haired elf with a kind but worried face hovered over her.
"You're awake," he said. "You've been wounded, but you'll be all right." He began to peel back a layer of cloth that covered her left side. When she looked down at what the other elf was doing she wished she hadn't. The entire front of her tunic was stained dark red. The elf took a clean cloth and began to tend to the wound.
Trying to take her mind off the pain, she slowly turned her head away and saw the other elves busily clearing away the last remnants of the battle. There were piles of used arrows being sorted and cleaned, Orcs being dragged away and, she guessed, burned. "Such a mess," she thought, "how will the earth ever be clean again?"
"There, now," the elf said, grabbing her attention. "That should feel a little better." It did. Whatever he'd done, the fire had reduced itself to a dull ache. She thanked him and asked his name. "Ganya, a healer of Mirkwood."
She nodded and tried to sit up, but Ganya held her down. "I wouldn't do that just yet," he said. "You need to heal. You'll be off your feet for a week at least."
She finally gave in and lay back. She was exhausted anyway. She looked up as she heard footsteps approaching. It was Haldir. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for what she knew was coming.
"How is she?" he asked Ganya. The other elf stood and spoke to Haldir in a lowered tone so she couldn't hear. She was suddenly fearful. How bad was it if he didn't want her to hear? Shouldn't he be telling her this as well? Haldir knelt beside her.
"Mélanyë," he said, "We're preparing to leave soon."
"Ganya said I shouldn't be getting up for a few days." she said, but knew what he would say even as she spoke.
"You're not coming." She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with his hand. "You've been injured," he reasoned, "all that waits for you if you go on is another battle, and this time you may not survive." She tried to think of some way to argue with him, but there was none. She knew he was right, and at once both relief and despair filled her heart. She'd thought that if she went to fight for men, that she'd be helping Frodo somehow. But in that moment, she remembered how insistent he was that she not go with him, as far as he knew, to their deaths. How could she now go willingly to certain death, when her brother would not risk her to an uncertain one? If she went to Helm's Deep, she knew she would not come back. Looking at Haldir, she gave in. He nodded, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and left.
She slept most of the day, and talked long with Ganya. He was a healer of Mirkwood, as he'd said, and a master of herblore. She asked him if he'd ever heard of Tobold of Longbottom. He smiled and told her that he specialized in healing herbs.
That evening she woke suddenly from an uneasy sleep. Aldamir was kneeling beside her, watching her in the growing dark. She felt his eyes on her and turned to see who was there.
"We're almost ready to leave," he said softly. Silence hung between them.
"You didn't come here to tell me that," she said finally. He sighed.
"No, I didn't." He held her eyes with his. "Lindir," he paused, searching for words. "You need to say goodbye to him." She felt tears sting her eyes at the mention of his name. She looked over at Ganya, who stood nearby against a tree with his arms folded. He nodded to her. Aldamir took her hand and lifted her up, and immediately the pain in her side worsened. She stumbled, but he supporter her, and led her to the clearing where the shrouded still figures of four elves lay. The others stood around them, heads bowed in silent mourning. Aldamir brought her next to Lindir and did the same.
Mélanyë studied Lindir's cloak at her feet. She knew his face would be ashen white under it, remembering how he'd looked earlier before she'd left him. Guilt rooted itself deep in her heart at the thought of leaving him, even for her own safety. Tears began to bathe her cheeks and fall to the grass below. The cut under her eye began to sting but she ignored it.
Without realizing it, she began to sing. Softly, at first, but soon her voice rose in a tearful lament for her lost friend. The Melody was the same that she'd heard in the halls of King Thranduil, as his harpist Liofa had played for her and the dwarves so long ago. She sang of lost joy and parting friends. As her song rose and fell, it seemed to her that the world had dropped away, and all that was left was her and Lindir.
She returned to reality as she felt Aldamir's hand squeeze her shoulder in comfort. It was then that she realized that they'd all been listening to her. Countless pairs of eyes, some glistening with unshed tears were on the small elf and she fell silent. The moon, she saw, was high above them in the dark sky and she realized she'd been singing for over an hour. She bowed her head and Haldir spoke.
"Four brave warriors have died in battle. Their sacrifice will be remembered among the elves in song long after the Enemy has been vanquished and his evil long forgotten." He paused and looked down at the two still forms. "They will be missed."