Chapter Twenty: A Fight and a Funeral

"If I am to fight you on fair terms," said Elrond slowly, "I would like to have some means of defending myself. My sword is behind you."

Maedhros grudgingly retrieved the weapon and tossed it to him; Elrond caught it swiftly by the hilt and unsheathed it. The keen blade glittered menacingly in the sunlight.

"So be it," he echoed his enemy. "Let's end this."

Maedhros nodded mutely, crossing blades with the half-elf. He shot a withering glare in Caranel's direction, causing the elleth to shrink back against the wall in helpless horror. Her wide blue eyes glistened with tears.

Maedhros made the first move, knocking Elrond's sword away and lunging for his chest. Elrond quickly blocked the blow, retaliating with a swipe to Maedhros' right shoulder. Bright red blood dripped from the gash and trickled down to the stump of his wrist.

The elf's lip curled into a snarl as he stared down at the wound. He lifted the sword in his only hand, charging again. Elrond sustained a deep gash in the cheek this time. Ignoring the pain of their wounds, both elves fought on.

Caranel stared desperately around her for some means of escape. If she could only get out of the room, she might be able to run for help. But Maedhros and Elrond were moving too swiftly to let her get to the doorway. They were fighting with a grim, single-minded determination.

Maedhros slowly forced Elrond to the wall, a terrible smile upon his face all the while. Elrond fought on, returning cut for cut, blood for blood. And suddenly he saw something his adversary did not.

Caranel saw her chance for freedom. Maedhros was forcing Elrond back to the wall, and leaving more than enough space behind him for her to slip through. The elf wasn't even looking around; it was a perfect opportunity. She leapt forward and ran…

Maedhros swung his sword in a great arc toward Elrond's throat; he was only able to duck just in time, cracking his head against the wall in the process. He fell back slightly, stars winking before his eyes as blood dripped down into his hair.

The sheer force of the blow caused the son of Fëanor to spin around in a half-circle, his dark eyes widening as he saw his blade sweep toward the fleeing elleth, slashing across her body…

Caranel screamed as she fell to the ground, blood pouring from the huge gash across her stomach. She stared up at Maedhros in anguish and horror, sobbing as she saw his face contort in a triumphant grin.

"Hah," he said breathlessly. "Well, there you are! It looks as if I kept my promise, didn't I?" He laughed cruelly as he spat in her face.

Elrond forced himself to stand upright and struggled to stay that way, slowly lifting his sword with a leaden-feeling hand. The metal pommel connected firmly with Maedhros' skull, knocking him unconscious. He slumped limply to the ground without so much as a moan.

Elrond staggered forward and fell to his knees beside Caranel, who was crying silently in agony. The half-elf gently cradled her in his arms, tears coming to his own eyes as she spoke.

"Sire," she choked out. "I'm sorry…"

"Shhh," he whispered tenderly, wiping the tears from her face with the edge of his sleeve. "It's all right, don't cry… you're going to be all right…"

"No," the elleth gasped. "It's over. There's nothing you can do."

Elrond grasped her hand gently. "Yes, I can. I can help you, heal you…"

"There's nothing you can do," Caranel repeated, her voice growing fainter. "I will pass to the Halls of Mandos, and there, perhaps, I will find rest."

Elrond nodded as he silently accepted her inevitable fate. "Then I hope you get there."

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice the barest whisper. "Live free, my lord."

"Rest well, my friend," Elrond replied, kissing her forehead softly.

Caranel held him with her eyes, drawing a deep, slow breath. She held it for a moment, as though trying to hold on to her life for just a little longer. But soon a final sigh escaped her, and the light faded from her eyes.

Elrond knew she had let go at last. He let his tears fall freely onto her lifeless body as he gently closed her eyes. But a swirl of movement next to him drew his gaze; someone was standing behind him. Someone wearing a long black robe.

Mandos.

Trembling in grief, Elrond stared up at the Doomsman through tear-glazed eyes. Mandos looked strangely translucent, and the elf knew that he must be in the spirit world, or some such dimension. He knelt silently beside the limp form of Caranel, took her free hand and pulled her up…

The elleth's spirit, a pale, semi-transparent replica of Caranel herself, slowly sat up. She was seated inside her body, creating the effect of two torsos attached to a single pair of legs. One lay limply across Elrond's lap, the other was smiling up at Mandos.

The Doomsman helped Caranel's spirit to stand, and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. It seemed as though they were talking, but Elrond couldn't hear any words spoken.

Mandos turned his head to look down at him, and smiled kindly. He glanced briefly back at Caranel, who turned and smiled at the half-elf as well. Her eyes were as bright as ever, and they retained a slight bluish tint. She held his gaze for a moment and sighed, "Thank you."

Elrond's eyes brimmed with new tears. "You're welcome," he replied.

She smiled, turning back to look up at Mandos. He put his arm gently around her as they both turned their backs, fading to complete invisibility. Her hand, still clasped tightly in Elrond's, was slowly growing cold. In that silent instant, Elrond knew that Caranel, his dear friend, was truly gone. She was at peace at last.

----

"Eärendil?" said a soft voice above him.

Only one person other than the unconscious Maedhros ever called him that.

"Hello, Maglor," Elrond said softly, looking up.

Maglor knelt silently at Elrond's side, placing a hand on Caranel's cold brow and bowing his head in sympathy.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "This should never have happened."

"It wasn't your fault," Elrond replied. "It was his." The elf shot a fleeting, contemptuous glare toward Maedhros. Maglor nodded.

"I never wanted this," he whispered. "I didn't want to steal those two Silmarils. I wanted to forsake the Oath completely. If I could turn back time and do things differently, I never would have…" He faltered, closing his eyes.

Then, slowly, he reached into his robe and pulled out a familiar cloth bundle. He opened it, and both elves' faces were bathed in the Silmarils' light.

"These aren't ours," he said quietly. "They were never ours. But I don't know what to do with them now. I don't want Maedhros to have them, and I can't give them away because they're not mine to give…"

"But you never wanted to take them."

"That's right," Maglor nodded. "I never wa—"

He broke off with a gasp, staring in the direction of the voice. It was not Elrond who had spoken, but the tall, dark figure who was behind the half-elf. The son of Fëanor hurriedly bowed as low as he could.

"Lord Mandos!"

The Vala nodded slowly. He was gazing at Maglor with an odd expression in his deep eyes, something between sympathy and kindness.

"Get up," he said softly.

Maglor slowly lifted his body, but remained on his knees. He stared up at the Doomsman in trepidation, but Mandos smiled benignly.

"You never desired your father's jewels," he said calmly, walking slowly around the two elves so that he stood at Maglor's side. "You were tempted to forsake your Oath, yet you were persuaded by Maedhros."

Maglor nodded, unsure of whether he should speak or not. Mandos went on coolly.

"If you had the choice at this moment," he said, "would you have me remove the burden I have lain upon you? Would you renounce your vows of evil and so be redeemed?"

"Would you will it so, my lord?" Maglor asked.

The Vala nodded. "I would."

"Then my answer is yes." Maglor's eyes held no uncertainty.

Mandos nodded once, placing a gentle hand on the elf's shoulder. "Then so be it."

Maglor stared up in surprise and awe. The Doomsman held his gaze for what seemed like a long time, his face calm. Maglor relaxed a little, giving a slight nod.

Then Mandos suddenly smiled, releasing his shoulder. "Go in peace."

Maglor bowed low again. "Thank you, my lord. I will not forget this."

The Doomsman's eyes glittered in a satisfied way, and he turned to Elrond, sending out a thought: Sometime soon, you must tell him your true name.

Elrond nodded mutely, remembering that that was one of the many things about him that Maglor didn't know.

The Vala nodded once more, swirling away in a brief flicker of shadow.

Maglor moved to his unconscious brother's side, and Elrond climbed to his feet, carefully lifting Caranel's body with him.

"Take her outside," Maglor instructed, looking at him over his shoulder. "I'll be with you shortly."

Elrond nodded, turning slowly toward the door. But Maglor suddenly called after him.

"On second thought… don't taker her outside just yet. Take her to where you washed her hair. We should clean her up before we bury her."

----

Elrond bowed his head reverently as he folded Caranel's limp hands upon her chest. He stood back to gaze once more into her still face, before she was to be lain to rest.

Caranel's body lay on a white stone slab on the lawn outside Maedhros' house. She was clothed in a clean dress, the blood of battle gently cleansed from her cold body. Her hair had been masterfully restored to its former, fiery glory by the contents of a bottle Maglor had found, which was specifically for removing hair dye.

Maglor drew a slow breath and let it out silently, addressing Elrond. "Perhaps you could say a few words for her. You knew her more than I."

Elrond nodded, sighing as the words flowed to his tongue.

"When I first met Caranel, I had no idea what lay ahead for both of us. She was a humble servant to a noble lord and lady; I was a stranger from a distant land. We were brought together by chance, and held together by a strong bond of friendship. For four years we lived in the same household as comrades, but all of that changed one fateful night.

"A vision was sent to me, and I knew there would be darkness ahead of her. I sent her away, in hopes that I could thwart fate. I could not have been more wrong. In the months that I dwelt with the last sons of Fëanor, I never stopped thinking of her. No word had come to me of her whereabouts, but somehow I knew she was safe, somewhere.

"Then I met a young girl by the name of Wenúbeth, and was strangely drawn to her, even though I didn't know a thing about her. But something held us together. I knew there was something beneath those mousy locks that I had surely seen before. I found it at last, and we were reunited again, Caranel and I.

"But fate turned its back on her the very next morning. A cruel twist of fortune resulted in her untimely death; she accepted this fact before I did. Now she is under Lord Mandos' care. I know he will give her rest."

Tears were streaming down Elrond's face as he ended his speech. Maglor applauded him softly; the sound echoed sorrowfully through the air. The two elves stood in a respectful silence for a moment, and then each picked up a shovel to dig the elleth a grave.