Part Two

Clouds in the East

Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells

Lonely and lost to life for evermore

Save when to thee, my heart responsive swells

Then trembles into silence as before

Byron, 'The Corsair'

With difficulty I forced my eyes open, emerging into a world of pain, agonising pain that surged through my body that left me weak and faint; a dry twig broken in the swirling vortex of my torture. I leaned back, utterly spent; in all my years on earth I had never felt so powerless, so badly used. I was alone, alone in my agony. Yet, I was not completely alone. A pair of blue-grey eyes were staring intently into mine; someone was stroking my hand softly, whispering in Elvish words of comfort and support. "Legolas" I sighed as all the events of the day flooded back to me. "Where is Vénea?" I stammered, my dark eyes meeting his. The last time I had seen her was before the Orc struck me, before I had been plunged in to the agony from which I had just so lately recovered. "Don't worry, she is safe, rest now and allow yourself to heal, and thank Ilúvatur that you are an Elf, and so have survived what would kill a mortal."

I stared up into his eyes and felt my pain subside dramatically, felt my strength return and my heart hammer. I sat up, repressing a cry of pain as I stared him firmly in the eye. "No, I will not lie down when there is work to be done; I am here to represent Rivendell, with the blessing of Lord Elrond as his envoy; bearing letters to the steward of this place, and to Aragorn, son of Arathorn; not to lie here impotent and useless."

He pressed me down lightly, his hand on my chest, until I was again lying on the bed. He brushed my hair lightly from my face and kissed me on the forehead, lightly as the touch of a feather. "Rest now," he whispered, "You can do nothing in this state. You remind me of myself in my younger days, always stubborn, always wanting to be active. In a few days you will be better and can go about your task." He smiled again, and kissing my cheek, left me to sink back into oblivion.

I woke up. It was dark, I was alone. I could hear nothing; none of the gentle breathing whose absence had woken me, or the comforting whisper of those around me. I sat up, painfully, holding my body as if it was glass, as I gently swung my legs from off the bed and stood up unsteadily. Someone had left the tent just minutes before me; I could feel the shadow of a female form that had just passed. I crept out, brushing away the tent flap as I went, holding my shoulder carefully as I tracked the shape.

I stumbled, fainting, as I clutched hold of a tree to steady myself; summoning my strength to make my way to the tent where my quarry had so lately headed. I pushed away the tent flap and entered, avoiding the heavy snoring of the sleeping dwarf that lay across the entrance. I had never had much truck with dwarfs, short hairy things, and I wondered why Legolas could bear to have such a creature in his tent. Yet he had something else in his tent, something that had no right to be there. I realised then the absence of that breathing; Vénea had left me and was now sleeping in the Prince's arms.

I stifled a cry of anguish, even stronger than the pain that had so recently gripped me. She was in his arms, she was in his embrace. A human, a mere girl of seventeen had ensnared the heart of the Prince that I had for many hundreds of years striven for, but in vain. I returned to my bed, I know not how, and flung myself down, abandoning myself to my grief.

A few days later I was on my feet, ready to deliver my letters and then return to Rivendell, then hence to the undying lands, where I would nurse my love and pain for eternity.

I moved quickly out of the tent, and through to the city of Minas Tirith, that towered, white and beautiful above the plain, yet marred by the scars of the recent battle. I made my way through the gate unchallenged, except by a small creature that seemed only a boy, yet had the face of a youth of twenty, dressed in armour and bearing on his surcoat the White Tree of Gondor. "Lady, where are you going?" he asked me courteously. I stared dumbly at him for a moment and then burst in to uncontrollable laughter, the cloud of pain and tension that had been over me lifted by his bemused frown. "Of course, you're a Halfling. I apologise for my rudeness, yet this was the last place that I expected to see one of your kin." I paused, smiling at him "My name is Osellë, of Rivendell; I am here to bring letters to Aragorn and Lord Denethor from Lord Elrond."

"My name is Peregrin Took, a Hobbit, but you may call me Pippin. Don't you know that Lord Denethor is dead? He went mad, tried to kill his son and ended up throwing himself, blazing, from the tower-top. But I will lead you to Strider, I mean Aragorn, I'm sure he will be glad to see such a beautiful Elf." I stooped so that he could take my arm and he led me up the numerous stairs and through countless gates to the Great Hall of Minas Tirith.

The Hobbit pushed open the great doors, the guards winking at me as we passed. I looked in and saw Estel sitting at a round table, with an old bearded man dressed in dazzling white. He exuded a sense of power and magic that could only belong to a Wizard, to Mithrandir, known as Gandalf. On his other side, I drew my breath in sharply, willing myself to keep my calm as I recognised Legolas. I had not seen him since I had come upon him and Vénea in each other's arms. I ignored him as best I could as Peregrin announced me, concentrating on the figure of Estel who rose and beamed at me, then embraced me tightly. "Osellë; you are better; we have been worried about you; ever since you disappeared from your sick bed with no warning. I wanted to send out a search party for you but Legolas said nay, you'd find your own way back when you were ready."

"Legolas was right; all I needed was time to recover in spirit as well as mind. It is not a nice thing being driven through the shoulder with an Orc blade." Legolas winced, as if I had brought back unpleasant memories. I continued "I have letters for you from Lord Elrond; I had one for Lord Denethor, but I have just been informed that he is dead."

I handed over both letters to Estel, and stepped back, making for the door, but he motioned me to wait as he read. I studied his face carefully as conflicting emotions followed after each other like clouds driven before the wind. After a few minutes he spoke "Hear this. I came as a Ranger from the north, to defend this city because that is the duty of all free men; yet I come among you now in another guise. Lord Elrond has imparted to me the message that now is my time to take up the destiny crafted for me; now is the time to reveal my true lineage. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur. I have come to claim my birthright as High King of Gondor." There was silence throughout the great hall as everyone fell to their knees. A single beam of light from a window high in the tapestried wall illuminated the Kings countenance, seeming like a good omen for the future. Gandalf was the first to rise and to speak, his voice ringing through the hall, proclaiming the new King.

"Look, we must now to business. Sauron is not yet defeated, but halted for a moment in his stride. We must move quickly before he can build up his reserves. Remember, he will not be vanquished until Frodo's ring is cast into the fires of Mount Doom; the hobbit is lost and the likelihood of his completing the task is ever less as long as the Eye is concentrated on Mordor." The wizard seemed diminished, somehow older as he spoke these lines, as if he doubted what to do next.

A flash of inspiration struck me as I cried "Lords, if the eye of Sauron is concentrated on his own realms then we must draw his gaze. We must ride out for battle under the very gates of Mordor, and drag his eye away from his dominion to concentrate on us." When I was sure I had every eye I continued, "This will give Frodo the time to complete his task. It may not be a battle that we win, but at least we will have died saving Middle Earth from a worse evil." I felt the stare of the whole hall on me, weighing up my idea to see its merit. As I expected, it was praised unanimously, both Aragorn and Gandalf agreeing that it was the only possible solution. I turned to leave, but felt the gaze of Legolas full on me. I turned to face him, endeavouring to shoot him a look of contempt. Yet hundreds of years of love were too strong for me. My heart melted and I gave him a look of such fierce longing that he stepped back a few paces at the power of it. He returned my gaze, his eyes full of apology and regret. His look seemed to say, 'In another age, in another place I would have loved you, yet my heart has been captured by another, do not blame her or I for it.' I turned and left, my anger draining from me. I could not rebel from what fate had decreed any more than I could order my heart to cease loving him. I would be her friend and ally, Ilúvatur help her, she had few others.

In three more days we were riding together to fight the last battle of Middle Earth. Beside me rode Vénea, myfriend once more.