Chapter Twenty-Two: Fight and Foresight

Elrond's eyes widened in horror. "Fight it, Isilden. Fight him! Think of Elennar!"

Think of Elennar, I thought. Yes. She loves you, Isilden. Remember that. She loves you, and you love her. Love will conquer.

I squeezed my eyes shut, summoning an image of my sister to the front of my mind. I memorized her face; her golden hair, fair skin and sapphire eyes. Her laughter was like the song of a brook babbling over the stones in its bed. Her smile could light up a dark room…

But suddenly Elennar's face in my mind's eye began to change, distorting and twisting, becoming lined and hoary, her soft, deep eyes darkening and hardening. She was turning into the one person I never wanted to see again.

Saruman's voice sliced through my mind like a knife. "Don't fight me. Give in to it. You can't hold on for long. It's only a matter of time."

"No!" I gasped, struggling to banish the horrible voice from my head and re-summon Elennar to me. "No! You won't… take… me!" My own voice sounded faraway, echoing in my ears, as though someone else were shouting from a long way off.

My sight was blurring; the dim shadows that lurked at its edges became bolder, and spread to envelope everything. Now another voice was shouting, calling my name from somewhere behind the darkness. Isilden! Isilden…

I couldn't hear or see anymore. The voices fell silent as the blackness consumed me. Screaming without a sound escaping my throat, I plunged into oblivion.

----

"Isilden… Isilden, wake up…"

I floundered in a grey haze, the voice flowing around me like a current. The ripples bore me up toward the pale promise of consciousness. I couldn't have fought if I'd wanted to.

I let myself be lifted, and sensation returned. As my eyes fluttered open, I saw three fuzzy shadows hovering over me. They slowly took form, and I found myself gazing up into the concerned faces of Elrond, Gandalf and Denethor.

The elf seemed to be the most shaken; his voice trembled audibly as he asked, "Are you all right, Isilden?"

"I think so," I replied weakly. "What happened?"

"You stopped breathing," Gandalf answered. "Elrond alerted us as soon as you blacked out. What were you two doing?"

"I was fighting against Saruman," I told him. "He was doing something to my heart… it started beating so fast, I just couldn't handle it. I tried to stop it, but…"

I trailed off, tears welling up in my eyes. Elrond gazed at me in quiet sympathy, his own eyes shining wetly. A look was shared between us, and I thought I heard his voice whisper sadly in some derelict corner of my mind: Forgive me.

It's not your fault, I thought miserably. I didn't fight hard enough.

"But if he didn't just try to kill me, what does he want?" I asked out loud, not realizing I had really spoken until a few moments after the words tripped off my tongue.

"We don't know," Gandalf told me grimly. "What matters now is your safety. You must regain your strength, Isilden. Rest awhile."

I sank back down onto my pillows and sighed. "How long was I unconscious?"

"It can't have been more than a few minutes," Elrond replied. "I was with you the whole time."

"That was very considerate of you," I smiled. "Thank you." Then rage flashed through me, and I spoke angrily. "I hate this. I want it to end."

"We know," said Denethor kindly. "We're doing all we can to help."

"I know you are," I smiled. "Thank you for that."

The Steward nodded, and he and his two companions turned to leave. But suddenly an overwhelming urge hit me, and I called, "Lord Elrond?"

The elf turned back, faintly puzzled and slightly concerned. "Is there something you need? You're not sick, are you?"

"No," I told him, starting to get anxious about my rash impulse. "There's just, something I want to know."

"You two go on," Elrond told the others over his shoulder. "I'll catch up. What is it?" he asked, turning back to me again.

"Well… I was wondering…" I swallowed. "You said you could see the future, right?"

He nodded, and I went on, "Do you think you could look into my future? I want to know if I'll ever see my sister again, and whether or not Saruman will… take me."

Elrond's face became pensive for a moment, and he nodded slowly.

"I could," he said, "but it could be risky. You may find out things that are better left unknown."

"Then don't tell me those things," I replied.

Elrond looked hesitant, but nodded again. "Very well… look into my eyes."

I lifted my gaze to his calm grey eyes, and he stared intently back at me. Time slowed to a standstill…

For a moment nothing seemed to be happening, but soon the elf's eyes became oddly glassy. I found that I couldn't tear my gaze away from him, as if a mysterious force were locking us both this way.

Elrond's lips began moving, but no sound escaped them. Now emotions were flashing across his eyes: fear, despair, anger, hope… I began wondering dimly what the elf could be seeing. His lips were still moving mutely, but more intently now.

Suddenly there was a sharp flare of shock in Elrond's eyes; he blinked, breaking the spell. When he drew a breath again, it came in gasps, as if what he had just beheld had winded him.

The light returned to his eyes, but he would not meet my gaze for a while. I waited silently while he caught his breath and looked up at me, visibly shaken.

"What did you see?" I asked, startled to see him this way. "Is it bad?"

Elrond took a few deep breaths before he spoke. At length he answered, "I saw… many things. The siege… it will happen soon, very soon. No-one will see it coming.

"You will see friends again, and many foes will perish to your blade, some whom you know of old. A noble friend will fall…"

I sucked in my breath. "Who?"

Elrond shook his head and went on.

"The final conflict will come soon after. You will face enemies more terrible than you can ever imagine… but friends will be with you. When all hope is lost, something will happen, something great and terrible… something wonderful. And then…"

His voice faltered, and he looked down. I urged him to continue.

"What will happen? Is that all you saw? Tell me!"

"There was nothing else," said Elrond weakly. "Just… blackness."

I stared up at him, and he shuddered slightly and added, "Keep your sister in your heart at all times, Isilden. She may be your only hope."

----

I was under strict orders from Denethor not to do anything drastic until I had fully recovered. So, confined to my bed for several hours, I grew increasingly bored, and decided to practise exercising my mind.

Through my incarceration, I practised forming Elennar's being into something I could wear around my heart like a scarf. I mingled the scent of the wildflowers she loved, the sound of her laughter, and the feeling of her hand caressing my cheek. And the color blue, the same hue as our eyes. No… her eyes.

I wore this scarf of Elennar's spirit around my soul. Sight, sound, scent and sensation, woven into a shroud of hope and protection. It was like a suit of armour lined with silk, soft and strong.

I prayed fervently that it would serve to deflect Saruman's will. I smiled triumphantly to myself as I imagined the wizard stabbing at my new shield with a black sword, and seeing his weapon fall apart as it came in contact with the armour-scarf.

Suddenly another figure burst into the room. I identified him as Madril, the guard who had first mistaken my arrival in the White City for an orc invasion.

Madril was panting hard for breath; once he found his voice again, which took a short while, he gasped, "To arms! My lord Denethor calls you to fight!"

I knew why in an instant. Elrond's predictions were starting to come true already.

"They're here," I breathed. "The war has started."

"Come quickly!" cried Madril. "There isn't time!"

"I don't have a sword!" I protested. "It's in my bedroom…"

"Well, get it!" the guard almost shrieked. "And hurry!"

Nodding, I snatched up my blade as Madril and Grima ran from the room. Hurriedly I dashed outside, where I met a horrible sight.

As soon as I set foot past the threshold, I was swept up by a wave of soldiers, clad in gleaming armor. They were all rushing through the citadel, forcing me to move along with them. I was horribly reminded of my first escape from the orcs at Emyn Muil, so long ago now. Luckily I was among friends this time, and not foes.

Arrows and chunks of stone flew from two directions, slaying men and orcs alike. I froze in my tracks for a moment as a huge stone block landed exactly where I would have been if I had taken another step. I dodged around it and ran on, into the thick of the war.