Chapter Forty-Three: Slaying the Dreamer
Elrond II sighed to himself as he sipped absently at a cup of sweet wine. He drummed his fingers against the surface of his desk, his gaze fixed on the bright yellow-orange flames that flickered and leapt in the hearth like nimble dancers. Every once in a while a daring spark would jump out at him, only to be extinguished in mid-flight.
The elf's forehead furrowed a little as he mulled over the many thoughts teeming through his brain. So far there had been four assaults on he and his other half, by either Morgoth or his servant. That was only a quarter of the alleged quota, after over seventeen hundred years. And how many more lay ahead of him now?
He let his mind float gently backward through time, to the day he had first discovered his true identity. At sixteen years old, he had learned that he was really the young counterpart of an elf who had seen nearly six and a half millennia and three Ages of the world, two of which were yet to come. And now he, Elrond the Second, was expected to survive those years again – with many prominent differences.
He stared deep into the fire again, letting his thoughts dwell upon it. Almost everything signified by flames and extreme heat had been a rivaling force to he and Elrond I. First there had been Maedhros, his captor and near-murderer, with hair like red embers; now there was Morgoth, using fire and fevers to achieve his ends. According to his godfather, there had been but one exception to the rule so far: the fire-haired elleth, Caranel. She had been a dear friend to Elrond I, before her life had been snuffed out by Maedhros. Flame extinguishing flame.
And now, Elrond II mused, the Ring of Fire had been passed to Elrond I's possession. A significant gift indeed, and yet its purpose was cloaked in mystery. From what Elrond II could recall of Elrond I's stories regarding his prior existence, the half-elf had previously been given Vilya, the Ring of Air, and had used it well to keep Rivendell untarnished. So why, he wondered, would such a change happen, if not for a very important reason? Did the Rings' elements, Air and Fire, have something to do with it?
He jumped as a soft knock sounded on the other side of the door, and the voice of Elrond I called to him. The younger half-elf stood as he regained his composure, calling in reply, "Come in!"
Elrond I entered the room quietly, smiling at his other half. "Ah, here you are. I wonder if I could have a word with you?"
"I was actually wanting to talk with you," Elrond II answered. "I've been thinking about a lot of things lately."
"I know," Elrond I said softly. "Have you forgotten how I can hear your thoughts? Wait a moment… yes, you must have. I can't see it in there." He grinned.
His godson gave a brief smile. "Then you'll know all about my speculations concerning a certain Ring of Power."
Elrond I glanced down at his right hand, which was currently bare of any adornment, and nodded. At the moment, the ring in question was hiding in a small box at the back of his wardrobe, along with the two Silmarils, which Mandos had thoughtfully retrieved from Mithlond for him (along with his chessboard and all its "pieces"). But he was convinced it had been more than a kind gesture; he knew somehow that he would need each of the jewels at some point in his future.
"That's why you've been hiding away in here," he said. "Quiet reflection, right?"
"You tell me."
Elrond I glanced up as a far-off bell chimed out somewhere.
"That's the dinner summons – we'd better be off."
----
Even before Elrond I climbed into bed that night, Tulkas arrived with a familiar pleasant laugh. The Vala seated himself in the chair that was set out at the elf's bedside; he smiled as Elrond nodded to him and remarked, "I'll sleep doubly peacefully tonight."
The Wrestler chuckled. "Many thanks."
Elrond I slowly turned his gaze to the ceiling, where shadows were in the midst of a silent dance, flitting back and forth, and shifting into strange, spiky shapes like bats' wings. The elf gave a sigh and a smile as his eyes became glassy and glazed, reassured that his friend would keep the darkness at bay.
This was perhaps his last thought before he plunged without a sound into the sleep he had become so accustomed to: a deep, velvety oblivion.
Or so he assumed…
----
Snow crunched beneath his boots and tumbled from the clouded sky above him. Tall trees surrounded him on all sides, every one an evergreen: pine, spruce, cypress, holly. Elrond I frowned slightly at the sound of more footsteps coming from somewhere nearby. Warily he turned toward them, and jumped slightly as Elrond II suddenly emerged from between two trees. Both halves of the same elf regarded each other in confusion.
"Elrond?"
"Elrond?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I have no idea! Where are we, anyway?"
"I think we're dreaming," said Elrond I quietly, his breath forming a small cloud of fog around his lips. "But how we're doing it, I have no idea."
"Dreaming?" Elrond II frowned. "That's impossible! It can't be Lord Lórien! After what Lord Manwë said, he wouldn't dare!"
Elrond I shrugged. "I don't know. If it's not Lord Lórien, who could it be?"
Elrond II held up a hand, cutting him off. A wolf howled mournfully somewhere far away. Elrond II glanced at himself uneasily. "I think we should get moving."
The wolf howled again, closer this time, even as they strode through the forest at a brisk pace. Elrond II gave a faint whimper, but jerked his head upward almost instantly as the wolf entered the wood.
Its entire body bristled with thick black fur. Its long, tapering snout was open, revealing a gaping mouth full of gleaming white fangs; those were being licked by a long red tongue as the beast growled deep in its throat. The eyes set above the snout gleamed an uncanny crimson. The wolf spoke in a terrible, all-too-familiar voice – the voice of Morgoth.
Hello, Elrond.
----
Tulkas gazed quietly down at Elrond I's sleeping form, and frowned ever-so-slightly. The elf was twitching fitfully, and occasional faint whimpers issued from between his closed lips. His eyes were wide-open and glassy – that was normal – but the Wrestler now saw that they reflected mute terror.
Despite his reputation as a fearless fighter, Tulkas was beginning to grow anxious. Elrond was obviously dreaming – having a nightmare. But that was impossible! He remembered the Council as if it had been yesterday. Manwë had dismissed Irmo for Elrond's sake. He couldn't be back! He would never defy the King!
The Vala held his gaze steadily on Elrond I as he sent out a nervous thought. This was far beyond his knowledge.
Mandos arrived a moment later in a swirl of shadows, his face radiating determination. A single look down at the moaning, jerking elf in the bed, and his fears were confirmed. He spoke to his kinsman in a perfectly level voice.
"We must summon Manwë."
Tulkas had only nodded when the Wind-lord himself appeared in a blue blaze. He moved at once to Elrond I's bedside, laying a hand upon his brow for a moment. He looked up at Mandos, meeting the Doomsman's steady gaze and thoughts. He spoke aloud in reply.
"I cannot. It is too perilous."
That is what you said about his departure.
"This is worse!"
It is the only way, Mandos replied resolutely. Only he can save Elrond now. No other can penetrate his subconscious to such a level. You must call him back immediately.
The two stared into each other's eyes for a moment, and at last the Wind-lord faltered. "Very well."
He focused his mind upon the one they needed, sending out an urgent call.
Irmo! You must return!
The Dream-lord whirled into view like a brewing storm, his grey robes billowing around him. He moved immediately to Elrond's bedside, speaking to Manwë. "What must I do?"
"Morgoth has invaded his mind," Manwë replied. "You alone can rescue him now. Go."
Lórien nodded, placing his right hand on Elrond I's brow. With his left hand he grasped Tulkas' wrist, and shot his elder brother a meaningful look. Mandos understood at once, and clasped the Wrestler's other hand. The Dream-lord drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he let his spirit plunge, pulling the others down along with him as they left their bodies behind.
Down and down they fell, through the misty layers of Elrond's consciousness, attuned to Lórien's will. Their bodies changed shape rapidly, as the silver-haired Vala wished them to. Each took on a different form as they approached the snow-covered earth of Elrond's dream.
Tulkas stamped the ground with a cloven hoof as he gazed about, a grin rising to his lips. "Where is that traitor, Morgoth?"
"This way," Lórien called, hovering above him on rapidly beating, grey wings. "Follow me!"
Mandos soared alongside him, snowflakes dotting his black body with tiny white specks. He and his companions flew and ran swiftly in the direction of the sinister growls in the distance.
----
The Morgoth-wolf bared his fangs in a wicked grin as it closed in on its prey. Nice to see you again. Too bad your big brother Námo isn't here to save your neck this time. Now you will truly be MINE. Bow before me!
"Never!" cried Elrond II. "You are nothing but a shadow!"
Could any mere shadow do this?
He leapt forward with a snarl. Elrond had barely enough time to draw a breath before a second huge shape thundered toward them, flinging its body full-force against the wolf's. Both halves of the elf staggered back, awed at the spectacle unfolding before them.
Morgoth was grappling with a huge hart, with a pale golden pelt and the largest antlers Elrond had ever seen in either life – there must have been seven prongs on each. Most unusual of all was that the stag was laughing as it pummeled its foe with strong hoofs. The wolf howled in pain and fury, snapping at the long legs with its teeth, and receiving several broken fangs as the hoofs connected with its jaw.
Elrond I and II could do nothing but watch in a dumbfounded stupor. But their eyes soon darted away, following the birds that crossed their vision; a raven, and a hummingbird with curious grey feathers. The former moved to assist the stag as the latter approached Elrond.
"Fear not," it whispered, in a voice that was like nothing the elf would have expected. It was clear and level, rather than high-pitched and fluttery. And neither of the elf's halves could figure out why it was so familiar…
"Who are you?" Elrond II asked carefully. "Do I know you somehow?"
The hummingbird's reply was strange and cryptic. "I am one who walks unseen, but ever remembered. We have not met in centuries, but you have gazed upon my face every day."
Elrond II shared a glance with himself; Elrond I's face was just as blank as his godson's. The bird sighed, blinking its tiny eyes. "You can only see if you wake."
"And how are we supposed to do that?" Elrond I frowned.
The hummingbird spun to look back at the stag and the wolf, who were still wrestling on the snow. Elrond I was glad to notice that the hart was unscathed, and that Morgoth was bleeding in several places. The raven seemed to have gotten several blows in as well; its beak and claws were glistening crimson.
The hart gave the wolf a final kick, knocking it onto its back, where it lay growling softly. The stag placed a forehoof to its exposed throat, laughing in victory. Then its face turned serious.
"I am going to let you up now," it said firmly. "If you dare come near Elrond again, you will feel my anger ten times worse than you already have! Is that clear?"
The wolf's reply was a low growl and a grudging nod. Satisfied, the stag slowly let him up. Morgoth climbed laboriously to his feet, lingering only to spit before the stag's hoofs. Then it turned and limped away, not once looking over its bloody shoulders. But they heard a loud CRACK and a yelp of pain when the wolf moved out of sight.
Elrond I and II walked cautiously up to the great, golden hart, instinctively bowing to it. The animal nodded, laughing again; not in conquest over a foe, but in a heartening way. Its hazel eyes smiled down upon them.
The raven and the hummingbird, who had been wheeling around the stag's antlers, now hovered in mid-air on either side of the huge animal. Then, slowly, each changed its form in strange swirls of shifting color. The birds grew in size as their wings became arms, and their legs lengthened; the stag shrank slightly as it rose onto its hind legs, and its fur receded from its body, but stayed on its head and face. Soon three tall, humanoid figures stood before them: the Wrestler, the Doomsman, and the Dream-lord.
Elrond I and II gasped in awe, bowing even lower. The Valar smiled quietly, and Lórien spoke. "Get up. Now is the time to wake."
Together the four comrades clasped hands, and the Dream-lord drew them slowly back up to their waiting bodies in the conscious world.