Author's Note: Hello and welcome to the last part of "The Tale of the Bard." The ending is much as the tale began, shaded by mystery with the remnants of truth barely clinging to it, the marvel that is myth. I know I said I was going to change the main character's name to a more proper elvish name, but I believe at this point it's foolish. I'd like to thank all my reviewers for their support and continual encouragement. And I'd also like to thank my wonderful beta Dragonfly32 for her help. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien's work. Lady Amanthoniel and her companions alone are mine.
Part Three The Close of the Tale
"It is imperative that we stay banded together and do not break rank. This wench of an elleth delights in chaos and discord. It should be her grandest wish to drive us asunder. Am I understood?"
Haldir's speech was met with somber nods and grim faces that bespoke the horrid task they were about to undertake. In all his years of service on the guard, the March Warden had never been ordered to flush out one of his kin like a mere woodland rabbit. Orcs were one thing, but Amanthoniel quite another. It was she that bestowed her lofty wisdom upon him in youth. A comrade in arms, well skilled and well fought. Seasoned veterans were often tricky to best and this fiend would strive to match him.
Then there happened to be the matter of Lady Galadriel's request. How could he capture such a crazed elf that swore her blood would be spilt before she entered Caras Galadhon? Again, no simple task, the very thought of it made his mind ache. After the tireless ruminations that a commander may often become accustomed to, he resolved to a primitive solution. They would strike as one, with all the precision and expertise that came from years of training and hope to capture the lady. That is if she did not escape first or indulge in some wicked sport of her own. Strangely, the notion of tying her up like a troublesome human felt as though he were invading on something sacred. The legends spoke of an invincible wild maid and now Haldir thought he scrawled hastily over them, like a child at play with fire. But Galadriel's order came first of course and if the Lady of Light herself approved such an action, he would take it.
The Captain paced decisively in front of the guards, taking care to sheath an extra short knife in his belt. The bright light of an afternoon summer sun stole across the forest, the warmth soothing his aching limbs and caressing his troubled thoughts. Amanthoniel did not seem half as intimidating in the day as she did creeping about a hissing fire at the midnight hour.
"Is everything in readiness?" The question seemed needless and he knew it. But the words spilled past his lips now, hovering in that tentative space between peace and violence.
"Aye, Captain," Rumil replied, somewhat stony faced.
"Good then." Haldir barely repressed a sigh. "Let us be off, heed my words."
The company departed, lithe bodies melting into the welcoming arms of the wooded land. An unwelcome shiver screamed up the March Warden's spine as he pushed delicately past the first tree branch. Finally, he would right an age old wrong.
The trees shivered frightfully about the elves as they stole through the forest. A storm from the west had cast itself upon the wind and now a drenching rain spat bitterly down upon them. The air was violently humid, a jagged bolt of lightening slashing across the murky gray sky. Haldir sighed, inhaling the scents of a late afternoon thunderstorm that racked the Golden Wood. The animals of the forest frantically searched for cover, whistling amongst the brush and bracket as a murderous rumble split the horizon.
The guard had started on their journey no less than three hours ago, wading through the greenery with weapons always at the ready. Not a sign of the errant elleth had been produced by their keen search and the March Warden began to force himself to face a dreaded possibility. Amanthoniel was gone, she had fled last night taking with her that rowdy band of brigands, galloping through the countryside till she reached her next victims. A certain sense of disappointment filled him, he had failed his mission. But even more troubling was knowing he would still have to suffer with the memories. Somehow he thought if he brought the elleth to justice those haunting echoes would cease, her curses fall silent. Yet now he faced the prospect of an eternity with her devilish minstrel work. The myth swallowed him whole, dragging him down further even though he fought valiantly against it.
He tried to remember the times he had loved Amanthoniel, when her sweetness out ruled brutality. Her eyes were often wide with delight and good humor then, not heavy with the stain of her massacres as they were now. Haldir squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, against the love that once existed and now died so utterly in his heart. He thought of the man by her side the night before. She had managed to find a love of her own, not impossible considering she was one of those avaricious characters that inspired such mischief. And he remained alone, so woefully alone with his memories.
Suddenly a hand encased his upper arm. Haldir started, spinning around till he came face to face with his Orophin.
"Listen." His brother raised a careful finger to his lips. The Captain complied, straining his ears to hear above the raging storm. The brief illumination that lightening brought filled the wood, the snaky arms of the trees silhouetted so horribly against the eerie glow. A cackle, a sadistic laugh rang through the tortured air. His heart lodged uncomfortably in his breast for a moment as he followed the sound. She was near, he could sense it.
This time they proceeded with more than undue caution, his guards spanning out to form a solid perimeter. Pushing past a willowy veil of brush Haldir gazed at the huddled mass of humans, the elleth perched on a fallen log at the fore. He had to admit that he expected better of her, to camp so out in the open like this it was almost if she wanted to be caught. Several of the men were nursing wounds inflicted by the elves the previous night. The Captain couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. They weren't invincible after all, even though the treacherous shades of night beguiled such. Their numbers also appeared fewer; some had undoubtedly dropped dead from wounds.
Unfortunately Amanthoniel looked none the worse for the wear, her face alight with devilish delight as she conversed with her dark-haired lover.
"Sigrun, my love," she breathed. "I say we have made out well, though I sorely wish Haldir had not escaped our grasp."
"Foul it is my lady," the man grumbled, "but fair that we live to ride once more."
"Aye." She smiled deviously. Haldir gazed quickly at Orophin who stood closest to him. His brother looked almost sorrowful as he waited for the command, bow taut with a feathered arrow. Raising his hand as rain trickled down his brow, the March Warden gave the signal. As one the guards leapt forth from their blind behind the trees. The men started but surprisingly did not try to flee. Arrows pierced the wet air, striking some dead on the spot. Others fought back bitterly, clinging to the hope of life and survival. Once more Haldir turned his thoughts to her and only her.
He raced to where she stood, expecting a cruel contest to bring her to capture. Haldir pushed her to the ground, pinning her beneath his weight which was substantially more than her own. She squirmed terribly, kicking at his legs till he grimaced. Around them the battle raged and she shrieked angrily. Grasping upon her wrists Haldir struggled to hold her still.
"Lady Galadriel," he grunted as one of her fists landed by his right eye, "sends her fond regards and wishes an audience with you, fiend!" To his utter surprise she ceased her battle and lay limp.
"Is that so?" She gazed up at him as though she were daft.
"Aye," Haldir panted, shocked by her reaction.
"Then I shall gladly obey," Amanthoniel replied softly, her eyes eerily calm. "We surrender!" she shouted and her men dropped their weapons, falling to their knees with arms raised. Haldir saw the surprised faces of his fellow guards. "You should have mentioned such in the first place." The elleth looked at him calmly.
The ungainly train of tethered men and cautious elves made its way slowly into the city of Caras Galadhon. Haldir stationed himself by Amanthoniel, expecting her to flee or try something rash at any moment. But she walked on steadfastly, hands secured with coarse rope till her arms bleed. She barely paid it any mind though, looking rather unfazed by her sudden downfall from power.
Haldir felt his skin prickle with an unknown fear. The battle he expected from such men and the wicked elleth seemed too easily won. They had simply given up, Amanthoniel complying with his wishes as if they were the best of companions and he had asked a small favor of her. Once more he studied her queer features, this time in the daylight. Something was noticeably missing; the wench appeared not half so frightful now. The mysticism of myth crept back into his mind. Could she truly be a murderous fiend that fancied herself a minstrel? Were her brigands really an unruly pack of murderers that danced to heathenish music in the moonlight? Where did the truth lie? Certainly not here.
He sighed raggedly, the royal flet looming into his view.
Lady Galadriel smile pleasantly as Amanthoniel stood before her and Lord Celeborn. Haldir prodded the elleth in the back forcing her forward before the Lady of Light. But Amanthoniel seemed not at all daunted in the presence of the Lady. She returned Galadriel's smile readily, while her companions remained fastened below on the forest floor under the steady watch of the Galadhrim.
"Amanthoniel," Galadriel spoke softly. "It is good to see you. How do you fare?"
"Well, my lady," the elleth shuffled through a bow of respect. Haldir stood in shock at this civil exchange.
"Time has passed I am afraid," Galadriel continued lightly. "I have heard the stories."
"Indeed my lady, I am honored that you have." Amanthoniel's smile widened.
"Such wicked tales they are, frightful to say the least."
"Is that not what you wished, hiril nin?"
"Of course, you have done quite well for yourself." Galadriel looked approvingly on the young elf who simply beamed in her presence. Haldir felt his body frozen with wonder. What now was this? How could the Lady act so passively towards such a villain? And after all the terrors she inspired in him! He ran a callused hand across his aching temples.
Galadriel gracefully removed herself from the sort of raised dais she stood upon, delicate fingers reaching out till she grasped some of Amanthoniel's tangled hair.
"But tell me, young one, you have not dyed your hair with blood as the rumors suggest." A slight frown now rested on the Lady of Light's countenance.
"Not at all," Amanthoniel laughed, a smooth, gentle laugh. "It is but wild berries. I did not think you would approve of blood, hiril nin."
"No, I would not have." Galadriel released her tresses. "And your men? How fare they?"
"Well, hiril nin, they are stout and skilled in weaponry." Here the elleth paused and her face grew sober. "But I am saddened to report that some have fallen to the March Warden's bow."
"A tragedy." The Lady looked swiftly towards him then returned her gaze to Amanthoniel.
"Both friends and foes fall in war," Lord Celeborn said, his calm voice echoing throughout the flet.
"Aye, hir nin," the wretched elleth replied, her face stained with sorrow. "It is fortunate that those most dear to me have survived, though I fear that some wounds run deep and remain unhealed." She glanced at Haldir, cruelty seeping back into her eyes.
"Hiril nin, this elleth has murdered countless innocents," he protested hotly. "She had no qualms last night of bringing myself and others to join them!"
"I understand your confusion, March Warden," Galadriel answered smoothly, "but I ask that your trust remain with me as it has for so many years past."
"I have done my duty as asked!" Amanthoniel cried suddenly, her face flushed with rage. "And yet my men and I are treated like dogs by this false ellon! Hiril nin, please, I beg for justice on my part!"
"Peace, lady," Galadriel soothed her. "March Warden Haldir still believes the myth, the myth you so skillfully created. That is why I asked him to fetch you, I knew you would not flee from my summons, you never have."
"Aye." The elleth appeared somewhat mollified though her breath came fast and her eyes blazed.
"Hiril nin, do you not see the lies that fall from her wicked tongue?" Haldir questioned incredulously.
"Silence, Captain," Celeborn interposed firmly.
"Forgive me then, hir nin." Haldir lapsed into anxious silence, every fiber of his being fighting against it. The hall seemed filled with a restless air, the storm still raging outside. Amanthoniel mopped at her wet face, arms still bound tightly before her. At length the Lady of Light spoke.
"Tell me minstrel," she said, her voice so soft it was barely heard over the storm's din, "tell me if you would honor us with a performance this eve at our Summer Festival?"
"Aye, hiril nin." Amanthoniel bowed her head in respect. "I could never refuse such a gracious offer, though I fear others may disapprove." Her eyes flew quickly back to Haldir, pausing for a moment as she searched his countenance.
"You never feared what others said of you before, Amanthoniel," Galadriel reminded her gently. "Why should it trouble you now?"
"No." The elleth shook her head, tangled curls falling oddly about her shoulders.
"Release your prisoners March Warden," Celeborn ordered sternly.
"Hir nin!"
"I would speak with you Haldir," Galadriel commanded lightly. "Your guards will release Amanthoniel's men."
Haldir could not speak, but forced himself to bow nobly. Lord Celeborn escorted Amanthoniel from the room and they both descended the winding staircase, her struggling to cut free her bonds. After a moment of cruel silence, Galadriel turned her eyes to her devoted Captain, taking in his measure as if she had just met him.
"I understand your confusion," she said at length. "It is a natural instinct. How could you not be confused by all the mischievous rumors that wander about? Rumors that speak of violent murders and insanity. But you must realize March Warden that little truth can be found in myth."
"I am bewildered," Haldir confessed, pacing agitatedly across the snowy floorboards.
"Then I shall be brief and frank with you," the Lady responded kindly. "I ask you to take into account two answers. The first of which suggests that the stories are true, that the myth has come alive, born from the madness of the elleth. That by night she rides through the countryside terrorizing peasants and killing for the mere sake of sating her blood lust. The second abandons the myth. Perhaps it is that Amanthoniel is the only one here that is true to herself. That she is nothing other than what you are, my Captain, though she goes about her business in a different fashion under my orders. That she helps rather than harms our cause under the guise of a crazed minstrel."
Haldir clenched his fist, his mind at war with his emotions.
"For you must realize, my dear Captain. Legends are a queer thing and those that inspire are, shall we say immortal? And not in the same sense as we the First Born know immortality. Even if she were slain by your bow I do not doubt she would continue to live. Alive in the whispers that pierce the night, in the hidden strains of fable that float on the wind. All the power and might of this Earth may not quell it, nor do I wish it to. It is then Haldir that we must learn to let go. Yes, she does ride about the countryside, singing and indulging in innocent mischief, not blood lust. And if this is her manner of protecting our wood and doing her duty, then so be it. I have learned that I cannot extinguish her fantastic nature. I let Amanthoniel go, as long as she does no harm though others claim she has."
He stood still know, barely able to draw breath as the weight of her words seemed to crush him.
"The choice is yours March Warden." Galadriel turned towards the door. "You alone can end the tale."
The swish of her silken skirts announced her exit from the room. The Captain forced himself to stand by the window, ceasing his incessant pacing. The air was thick with intrigue, mystery and the remnants of a broken story that lay shattered on the forest floor as Amanthoniel laughed and joked merrily with her men. The illusion had fled, as if the murky smoke lifted from about the fire, showing the truth of the flames that danced within. Could it be true? Was it his feverish mind that created the fable, from the fragments of deluding dreams and whispers? But it was as the Lady said; he alone could give the tale the truth he saw fit. Yet is there a suitable ending for such a tale, a tale invoking pain and love lost, a tale that summoned the very core of his fears and his hopes. No, there could be no ending, no ending for the tale of the bard.
The End