Chapter Twenty-Six: Renewal and Reunion

Was I dead?

I lay in a velvety void of foggy grey. Darker shapes swirled around me, their voices hushed, whispering into my ears.

"Poor wretch. That must have been terrible for him, all of it. No-one should have to go through what he did."

"Yes. Can you imagine what it could have felt like?"

"I try not to."

I sensed a ripple of movement somewhere nearby, and the second voice spoke again. "I was ordered to give him this. Lady Arwen made it at her father's request."

Through some breach in the velvet wall that surrounded me, I caught a faint whiff of wildflowers.

Something soft settled over me, and the voice went on, "We'd better call Lord Elrond, and let him know how Isilden's doing. He'll want to know all about it, I'm certain."

"Yes, let's," replied the first voice.

The dim figures receded, and I sighed. I tried to move, to find out what lay on my body, but I could not. The thing, whatever it was, brushed gently against my cheek like silk… almost like a soft hand.

"Isilden…"

The voice was familiar, though I couldn't name the speaker immediately. The shadow hovered near me, and I felt a hand stroke my brow as his voice murmured, "Wake up, Isilden…"

At last I opened my eyes, and was blinded by dazzling light. Blinking, I stared at the person standing at the side of the bed I lay in, and gasped.

"Lord Elrond!"

I marveled at the sound of my own voice as it issued from my throat. No longer the harsh rasp I had grown so accustomed to, it was now the long-forgotten voice of my old self. Snaga was no more.

Elrond smiled. "Yes, Isilden, I'm here. And you're lucky to be here, too."

I nodded. But a horrible recollection struck me, and I cried, "Oh, Lord Elrond, I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry for what?" the elf frowned.

"I almost killed you!" I cried, the words stumbling and tumbling from my mouth as I spoke in a rush. "Back at the Black Gate, sir, don't you remember it? I was there, and you were there, and I had my sword out, and… and…" I faltered.

Elrond nodded. "You don't need to finish that sentence. I remember what happened. Do you really wish to dwell on those memories?"

"No," I admitted. "I guess not."

A strand of hair fell across my nose, where I couldn't quite see it through either eye. I reached up to brush it away, and let out a yelp of shock. My hands weren't mine! They were smooth and fair-skinned, like those of a human… or an elf!

"It's me!" I cried. "It's really me!"

Elrond laughed. "I know, Isilden."

"Do you have a mirror?" I asked excitedly.

The elf's smile broadened. "You don't need one. Your hair is gold, your skin is fair, and your eyes are a most lovely shade of blue."

I couldn't help but whoop in joy. Elrond laughed again. "Isn't it wonderful? You've been yourself ever since the battle ended, almost a week ago."

That sobered me up considerably. "A week? I've been unconscious for a week?"

Elrond nodded. "It's been a very long week, I must say. When I saw you lying on the ground behind me, I thought at first that you had died. You had some very serious burns, and those took a long time to heal. But that's said and done, and you're alive and well. Safe and sound."

I nodded. "So it's all over?"

"Not quite," the elf told me solemnly. "There is a great deal of mending to be done now, of broken bones, broken lives, and broken hearts. We must pick up the pieces of our old lives, and do our best to carry on." He sighed. "But that can be more difficult for some than others."

I nodded, frowning as something hit me. "You knew all of this would happen, didn't you? You saw it. You saw Lord Denethor almost dying, and everything that happened at the Black Gate. You knew I would become an orc. Why didn't you tell me in the first place?"

Elrond now looked ashamed.

"I wanted to protect you," he said. "I feared that if I had told you that Saruman would be able to control you even after his death, you would have tried to kill yourself, just to be rid of the pain that was to come."

"You knew I'd try to kill you?" I gasped.

"Yes," Elrond nodded. "I saw that, too. You saw me standing before you, and attempted to slay me when I didn't move. I didn't move because I was waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"For the end. For Sauron's fall, and the last wave of his might that would finish off his minions forever. All but you."

"But… why not me?" I asked. "I was an orc, too. When that… force hit me, it was worse than anything I've ever felt before. I thought becoming what I was had been painful, but that was nothing. Returning to what I had been before that – that was so terrible, I wanted to die. For the longest time, I thought I really was going to."

"But you didn't," Elrond smiled. "There was still something else inside you that saved you then, as it saved you long before. Take a guess."

I thought, and the answer came immediately. "Love! Elennar's love!"

"Yes," Elrond beamed. "Your sister's love saved you. If it hadn't been for her, none of that would ever have happened. You would never have met Aragorn and the Fellowship, and thus would never have come here, to Minas Tirith. If you hadn't traveled here, you would never have met Lord Denethor, and would never have been sent back to Orthanc. And if you had never gone back to Orthanc, well…"

He turned as the door to the chamber we were in creaked open. Three figures came in, two supporting the third. My face lit up as I recognized them. It was Denethor, supported by Boromir and Faramir. All three were healthy-looking, their eyes bright, and they were all smiling.

Denethor stepped away from his sons and stood steadily on his own. He strode toward me, beaming, and I bowed my head. "Sire, you're alive!"

"As are you," the Steward nodded. "How do you feel?"

"I've never felt better," I replied honestly. "And yourself?"

"I'll be all right," the man smiled. He glanced down, remarking, "This is pretty… where did you get it?"

I followed his gaze, and saw that Denethor was talking about a blanket I lay under. It was made of sapphire-colored cloth, smooth and silky to the touch. Silver embroidery along one edge read in a smooth flowing script: Meleth naa Ten'oio. (Love is Forever)

"My daughter made it," Elrond informed us. "She's a very skilled seamstress."

"So that's who the Healers were talking about earlier," I realized. "They said that 'Lady Arwen made it, at her father's request'."

Elrond nodded. "You're absolutely right."

Peering around my friends' bodies, I caught sight of Legolas striding into the room. The elf wore a white tunic and a fine silver circlet.

Elrond rose to greet him, saying, "Legolas, good to see you. We were just admiring Arwen's needlecraft…" He indicated the blanket.

Legolas smiled. As he moved forward, I saw that he carried a small figure in his arms.

My throat immediately constricted. He was holding a young elf-child, whose arms hung limply down from her body. Her eyes were wide open and glassy, staring up at the ceiling; I noted with a grateful sigh the rising and falling of her small chest as she breathed. Although I couldn't see all of her, I knew who it was in an instant.

Elennar.

Legolas carefully laid my sister down on the bed. She squirmed in her sleep, turning in my direction. I gazed lovingly at her, caressing her cheek with my hand as tears of joy flowed down my face.

After a few moments Elennar stirred and awoke. She blinked, her eyes widening to take in her surroundings. When she saw me, a smile made her face glow from the inside out. It was like watching a flower opening…

"Isilden?" she whispered. "Is it really you?"

"Yes," I replied, gently gathering her into my arms. "It's me, a'maeler." (beloved one)

Our eyes met for a moment, and I saw my face mirrored in hers; golden hair, fair skin, and blue eyes. We were one and the same.

"Why are you crying?" Elennar asked me.

I sniffed. "I'm crying because I'm so happy. I'm alive, and you're alive, and I know everything's going to be better. We're all going to be okay."