Chapter Twenty-Seven: Lillassëa

CW: mentions of (canon compliant) suicide at the very end of the chapter. Please watch out for yourself!


The three elves were named Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin, and they looked to be brothers. Once Azshar had explained why they had come to Lothlórien, they quickly joined Legolas in shooting the orcs down from above.

The few remaining orcs fled on foot and disappeared from sight, their wolves felled by arrows. Wordlessly, Glorfindel drew his sword and dropped from the tree to the forest floor, running after them. Boromir hesitated, looking after him.

'He shouldn't go alone,' he said, but Azshar shook her head at him.

'Leave it, Boromir,' she said. 'He'll be alright.'

'He's injured,' Boromir protested, and she shrugged.

'He'll be alright.'

She worried that he wouldn't, that the orcs would ambush him somehow, that he'd panic and freeze again, but the rational part of her knew she was right. There had been less than ten of them left, scattered and defeated. Glorfindel had survived entire armies before. He could do this without help.

One of the brothers, Orophin, appeared beside her again. 'Will you tell your friends to follow us?' he said. 'There is a place nearby where we will be able to speak more easily.'

Azshar nodded and looked down through the branches at the Fellowship. She was suddenly reminded of the time she and the Company of Thorin had climbed pine trees to escape the orcs of the Misty Mountains. One on the growing list of times that Glorfindel had saved her life.

'This way,' she called softly, and the message was relayed among them. Rather than descending to the ground, Orophin led her laterally through the branches and into another tree. They climbed higher, until they reached a wooden platform built into the tree.

'I'll go back to wait for Glorfindel,' Azshar said to Orophin when the others had all arrived. He shook his head and replied in Sindarin.

'I'm sorry, I understand very little Westron.' Azshar repeated herself in Sindarin, and he frowned. 'That was Glorfindel of Gondolin who went after the orcs?' he asked, and she nodded. 'Then there is no need. He will know where we've gone, he has been to Lothlórien many times before.'

Azshar raised her eyebrows. 'Really?' she asked, but before Orophin could elaborate, Haldir mounted the platform and addressed the Fellowship in accented Westron.

'It seems you have brought great evil to our woods,' he said.

'We had no choice but to come,' Aragorn said. 'They would have destroyed us otherwise. I am sorry.'

'Now that you are here, you will stay,' Haldir said. 'I have sent Rúmil ahead to Caras Galadhon to bring word of your coming, but doubtless the Lady already knows. We will take you there, so you may be judged.'

'For what crime?' Gimli muttered, but Haldir heard it and turned his sharp gaze to the dwarf.

'We do not suffer trespassers lightly,' he said gravely. 'Especially in times like these.'

'We can understand that,' Aragorn said diplomatically, smoothing any tension that was rising between Gimli and the elves.

'For now, though, you can sleep,' Haldir said, gesturing to the floor of the platform. 'We will keep watch.'

The hobbits settled down with much muttering about how hobbits belonged below the ground and not countless feet above it. Aragorn looked exhausted and hollow-eyed. He lay down and closed his eyes, but Azshar could tell he wasn't sleeping. Boromir sat staring into the middle distance, looking troubled.

'Has your journey been hard?' Orophin asked her quietly when she showed no sign of settling down herself. Azshar closed her hand around her locket.

'We just lost a friend,' she replied, an ache in her chest.

'I'm sorry,' Orophin said.

'He defeated a balrog before he died,' she said. 'His name was Mithrandir.'

'Mithrandir?' Orophin said, sitting up straighter. 'Gandalf the Grey is dead?'

Somehow, Azshar wasn't surprised that Gandalf had been known in Lórien too. 'Yes.'

'This is grave news,' Orophin murmured. 'The Lady will be disturbed to hear it.'

'Your lady is Galadriel, yes?' Azshar asked, scanning the darkness below for movement as she spoke. There was still no sign of Glorfindel. Orophin nodded.

'She is as wise as Lord Elrond, as powerful as Glorfindel of Gondolin, and as fair as the morning sun.'

'I hope I will meet her,' Azshar said. A snore came from behind them, and she recognised it as belonging to Gimli. She smiled slightly. He sounded like his father.

'It seems strange to me that a Noldo would not know Lady Galadriel already,' Orophin said cautiously.

Azshar's fist tightened around the locket. 'Perhaps I did know of her once,' she said. 'But I have lost all my memories.'

Orophin's eyes widened. 'There was talk of an elf without memories who fought in the Battle of the Five Armies,' he said. 'That was you?'

'It was,' she said. 'It's a long story.'

'We have the night ahead of us.'

Azshar smiled wearily at Orophin. 'If you don't mind, I will keep it to myself for now,' she said. 'I am tired.'

'You should sleep,' he said sympathetically, getting to his feet, but she shook her head.

'Glorfindel isn't back yet.'

Orophin studied her for a second, but whatever he was wondering, he didn't ask. 'If he doesn't return in the next ten minutes, I'll scout for him,' he promised instead.

But there was no need. Glorfindel's curly head appeared over the edge of the platform only a few minutes later. His hands were trembling slightly, and he was heavily favouring his right arm. He nodded at Aragorn, who had sat up when he returned.

'All dead,' he said. 'They won't be coming back, or telling their friends.'

'Thank you,' Aragorn said earnestly, and Glorfindel nodded once before making his way over to Azshar and sitting down heavily. She noticed Orophin watching them curiously as she gently prodded Glorfindel's wounded shoulder. He winced, and so did she.

'What happened?'

'One of them got a lucky hit in,' he muttered, wincing. 'No proper damage done.'

'I don't trust your assessment in the slightest,' she replied, retying the knot on Aragorn's makeshift bandages with care. 'You would walk off a decapitation if you could.'

He shook his head, faintly amused, and she settled beside him again. 'I might try,' he said.

'You should have taken someone with you,' she said. 'Boromir was willing to go. Legolas could have gone, or I could have. You shouldn't have chased them alone.'

'Don't chastise me,' he said, twisting the ring around his finger. His amusement was gone. 'It will change nothing.'

'I know,' she sighed, looking out at the moonlit landscape visible through the leaves. The river was like a ribbon of liquid silver. 'But I worry. No one is infallible.'

'I'm not taking you with me to hunt orc.'

She smiled wryly. 'Fine.'

He sighed, moving his shoulder gingerly and changing the subject. 'What now? Will we be let in?'

'Yes. As prisoners, if not as guests.'

'Good.'

She counted on her fingers. 'Food, drink, safety, a wash, a healer for you, a bed maybe… Everything I've been dreaming of.'

'Galadriel will want to meet you,' Glorfindel said. 'She will certainly have heard of you by now.'

'Galadriel, your friend,' she said with a smile, and he sighed.

'I regret telling you that.'

'I just never knew you were so popular,' she said. 'Galadriel, and me, and Legolas… you could almost throw a party!'

'You don't count,' Glorfindel said. 'But I'm considering Aragorn.'

She laughed. 'Let me know when a place opens. One day, I swear to the Valar, I will be your friend.'

'You know what I meant,' he said, and he took her hand in both of his, running his fingers along hers absent-mindedly. Azshar stilled at his touch. Her mind strayed back to the village, and she squashed the thought away. If this was wrong, why did it feel right? She'd ignored her instincts once, and that had ended with her entombed on Weathertop.

'You should sleep,' he murmured after a while.

'I'll sleep when we reach the city,' she said. In truth, she was exhausted. Because of her anxiety in Moria, she hadn't slept since before they'd climbed Caradhras. It was taking its toll; she was beginning to feel like she was moving in a dream.

Glorfindel nodded, keeping her hand in his. Azshar saw the silmaril-star near the horizon, and the corner of her mouth lifted. Eärendil, she thought, the mariner who carried the stone across the sky in legend. They stayed that way, sitting side by side until dawn.

Lothlórien was beautiful. The leaves of the enormous mallorn trees were the colour of pure, rich gold. Azshar could tell it impressed Gimli, though he looked as though he'd rather feed himself to a dragon than admit it.

The path they walked meandered through the silver boles of the trees. The air smelled of earth and the delicate perfume of some flower. Invisible birds called to each other, and Azshar could hear the rushing sound of a river.

It soon came into sight ahead of them, and she smiled when she saw what the elves had in place to cross it: a rope strung between two trees on either side.

'This isn't going to end well,' she said to Glorfindel, and his mouth quirked upwards.

'Elves first,' Haldir called. Legolas smirked and jumped up onto the rope, crossing with ease and grace. Azshar, Glorfindel, and Orophin followed suit, the latter carrying one end of another rope to tie perpendicular to the crossing-rope, so that the others would have something to hold and help them balance.

Sam nearly fell in three times, but that was nothing compared to Gimli's ordeal. He almost fell into the rushing water so many times that Azshar had to look away to save herself the suspense. At last, and to Haldir's amusement, they were all on dry land.

'From here, the dwarf will need to go blindfolded,' he announced casually, producing a strip of cloth and approaching Gimli, who immediately reached for his axe.

'I beg your pardon!' he spluttered, but Haldir didn't bat an eyelid.

'No dwarf has ever entered Caras Galadhon, and this is not the time to be careless.'

Legolas turned a snort into a cough.

'I will not go blindfolded,' Gimli said. 'I'll meet them on the other side if I have to, but I will not go blind while everyone else is allowed to walk free!'

Aragorn sighed and turned to Haldir. 'We'll all wear one,' he said.

'What?' said Haldir.

'What?' Boromir echoed. Glorfindel and Legolas exchanged a look.

'We'll all wear it,' Aragorn said. 'We're a Fellowship, and we have been through much worse together. If Gimli must wear one, so will we all.'

'As you wish,' Haldir shrugged, and he and his brother went around tying blindfolds on each member of the group. Legolas looked aghast, and Azshar noticed that instead of tying on Glorfindel's blindfold, the elves simply handed it to him.

'I am sorry,' muttered Orophin as he pulled the cloth tight over Azshar's eyes and tied it behind her head. She smiled as her world went dark.

They walked in single file, each with a hand on the person walking in front. Azshar was behind Boromir, and the four hobbits were in front of him. She could hear them talking amongst themselves.

'This is a disaster in the making,' Sam muttered.

'He's not wrong,' Merry said. 'That's the third time Pippin's tripped, and we've moved about ten yards.'

'If I go down, I'm taking you all with me,' Pippin vowed, and the others laughed.

'It wouldn't be the first time,' Frodo said. 'Do you remember Merimac Brandybuck's birthday?'

'Don't bring that up,' Merry groaned. 'I got in so much trouble that day.'

'Oh, let's not be pretentious,' Pippin said. 'You deserved a lot more.' They laughed again.

It was another few hours before they stopped, and Azshar could suddenly feel the sun on her face.

'Take your blindfolds off,' Haldir called, and she pulled the cloth from her eyes. They were standing in a large clearing, in which rose a green, grassy hill spotted all over with little yellow flowers. Aragorn caught his breath, staring up at the hill with something unnameable in his eyes.

'What is it?' Azshar asked him quietly, concerned. He looked back at her and smiled sadly.

'This is where I first met Arwen,' he said. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it, returning his smile.

'Have some hope,' she said. 'You never know.'

'That's neither here nor there,' he said, but he waited another few moments before letting go of her hand.

'We arrive in the city soon,' Orophin said slowly in Westron, beckoning to them. 'This way.'

They followed him out of the clearing and onto a road, the hobbits shocked quiet by the beauty of the forest. Glorfindel caught up to Azshar and cleared his throat.

'Yes?' she said, glancing up at him. He handed her one of the tiny yellow flowers, and she smiled widely as she took it.

'Elanor,' he said. 'Star of the West.'

'Thank you,' she said.

'It reminds me of the celandine flower,' he said, looking away. 'That was the symbol of my house in Gondolin.'

She frowned. 'Your house?'

'I was a lord in Gondolin.'

'You never told me that.'

'Lord of the House of the Golden Flower,' he said, twisting the ring around his finger almost as though he were embarrassed. 'A long time ago.'

'Then this is special,' Azshar said, twirling the little flower between her fingers. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and tucked the flower in at its end. 'I'm keeping it.'

'You don't have to do that,' Glorfindel said.

'Too late,' Azshar said, and then added, 'my lord.'

He rolled his eyes, and she laughed. For a moment, it almost felt easy.

The road led them deep into the woods, and when dusk fell, Azshar saw a line of silvery lanterns strung along the top of a wall. Haldir and Orophin led them to a gate, which was manned by guards in silver armour.

'The Lady is to see them,' Haldir said to them in a low voice, and they stood aside, allowing the Fellowship to pass through into Caras Galadhon. There was a stairway that led up into the first tree, and they began to climb.

'What's wrong with the ground?' Merry sighed. 'What's all this business with the trees? What happens when it's windy?'

They passed platform after platform, each larger and more elaborate than the last. Azshar felt something brush against her mind, and she jerked in surprise, nearly knocking into Glorfindel behind her.

'Alright?' he asked. She frowned, shaking her head.

'I just – felt something in my head.'

Glorfindel relaxed. 'Galadriel. She can do that.'

'Touch others' minds with hers?'

'Yes. Look at Boromir and Frodo.'

She did; Frodo looked haunted and slightly sad. Boromir was blinking rapidly, and he kept running a hand feverishly through his hair.

'That's her?' she asked, bewildered.

'Did she say something to you?' Glorfindel said.

'No,' said Azshar. She suddenly felt the brush again, and this time she sent it a tentative welcome. Warmth emanated from the presence, and she smiled. 'I can feel her now. What about you?'

'She asked me why I'm always in such a bad mood when I come here.'

Azshar's smile widened. 'I think I'm going to like this Galadriel.'

They reached a platform wider and grander than the others. At the far end were two thrones, and standing before them were two elves, a man and a woman. The man was tall and silver-haired, his eyes old and wise and a circlet on his forehead. He watched Azshar closely as the Fellowship made its way across to them.

But the woman beside him…

Azshar stopped in her tracks, staring at Galadriel in shock. Galadriel stared back with familiar eyes, and a face which Azshar had once known by a different name.

'I remember you,' she whispered. Before she knew what was happening, Glorfindel had grabbed her by the arm and yanked her around so that she was facing the opposite direction.

'You know her?' he asked urgently. 'Are your memories… is anything happening?'

She shook her head slowly, wide-eyed. 'Nothing is happening. I'm alright, but… I knew her, before. I remember her.'

Glorfindel cautiously released her arm, and Azshar slowly turned back to find Galadriel standing before her. She seemed taller than Azshar remembered, her silver-gold hair rippling in waves down her back.

'You remember me,' Galadriel repeated slowly. Azshar felt like her heart had stopped beating.

'Nerwen,' she whispered, and Galadriel's face flickered; for a moment, it looked like she might cry. Swiftly, she stepped forward and pulled Azshar into a hug, exhaling slowly. Azshar hugged her back, squeezing her eyes shut.

She'd told Elrond and Gandalf about her memories of Nerwen, but they hadn't told her that Nerwen was alive. Another piece of her old self had been returned to her.

Galadriel released her and turned to the Fellowship. 'I bid you all welcome here,' she said, no trace of unsteadiness in her voice. 'You have returned to me a very old friend, and for that I am grateful. But I know you have also brought into our lands great evil.'

'We had no choice,' Frodo said. 'We need help.'

'Where is Gandalf?' the man asked suddenly. 'He was with you at the beginning of your journey, wasn't he?'

There was a long silence before Aragorn spoke up. 'He is dead, my lord,' he said. 'He fell in Moria.'

Galadriel took a short step back like she'd been struck, though her face remained composed. 'You have come here through much sorrow,' she said. 'Go. There is a place for you to rest. All that you need will be brought.'

'Thank you,' Aragorn said, and Haldir and Orophin, now joined by their brother Rúmil, led them away. Azshar stayed behind, Glorfindel hovering at her side. Galadriel shook her head, smiling ruefully at Azshar.

'That we should meet again under such sorrowful circumstances seems oddly suitable,' she said. 'How much do you remember?'

'Barely anything,' Azshar said. Talking to Nerwen felt surreal. 'We were friends, I think. We used to spar together. You didn't have much of a liking for Fëanor.'

Galadriel laughed, the sound clear and beautiful. 'There are few things I wouldn't give to have you back, melda. Do you know your name?'

'She doesn't,' Glorfindel said quickly. 'And if you do, you must not say it when she can hear.'

'You think the return of her memories might kill her,' the other elf said, stepping forward to join them.

'I know it will,' Glorfindel said, glancing at Azshar. 'She nearly didn't survive last time.'

'Last time?' the elf echoed.

'It's a long story,' Azshar said.

'What is your name now?' Galadriel asked her.

'I go by Azshar,' she replied. Galadriel smiled at the obviously dwarvish name.

'Bald Lady,' she translated. 'Is it a reference to your beardlessness?'

'No doubt,' Azshar said, smiling at the memory of the party at Bag End where she'd been given her name. The other elf took her hand in his.

'Well met, Azshar, if you don't remember meeting me before,' he said. 'I am Celeborn. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you again.'

He kissed her hand, and Azshar hesitated. Despite his words, she could see sadness in his eyes. She expected it was difficult to see someone you'd once known be unable to recognise you.

'Well met, Celeborn,' she said. 'I'm sorry I don't remember you.' Beside her, Galadriel reached up and touched Glorfindel's face gently.

'You look unwell, my friend,' she said, studying him. He met her eyes steadily.

'I'm fine.'

'He was injured,' Azshar put in. 'Shot in the shoulder, after we saw – we saw Gandalf killed by a balrog.'

'Ah,' Galadriel said, understanding in her eyes. 'You will see a healer, then.'

'I'm fine,' Glorfindel said again, an edge of irritation in his voice.

'I'll see to it he does,' Azshar said evenly. Galadriel's eyes flicked between her and Glorfindel, and then she exchanged a glance with Celeborn.

'How did you meet Azshar, Glorfindel?'

'In Rivendell, nearly eighty years ago,' he said. 'I followed Azshar and her dwarves east.' Her dwarves. Azshar smiled.

'We received word from Elrond many years ago that Azshar had disappeared,' Celeborn said. 'Was that true?'

'Maglor found me,' Azshar said. Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged another significant look. 'He fed me water from the Enchanted River in Mirkwood and hid me underground in the ruins on Amon Sûl. I only woke a few months ago, after seventy-seven years asleep.'

'She remembers very little of who she is,' Glorfindel said. 'But we discovered recently that Azshar might have crossed the Helcaraxë with the Noldor during the First Age.'

Galadriel's eyes bored into Azshar's as though trying to read her mind. 'Indeed,' she said slowly. 'Do you remember this, melda?'

'Parts,' Azshar said. 'I remember thinking… that I was going to die. I was sure of it.'

'Many thought the same,' Galadriel said softly. 'And many more did die.'

'You were there?' Azshar said, and she nodded.

'You were her friend,' Glorfindel said to Galadriel. 'Do you remember if Azshar really crossed the ice with us?'

'She did,' Galadriel confirmed. 'Is that so surprising to you?'

'I would have remembered her,' Glorfindel said, shaking his head. 'I thought I would have known her.'

'You wish you had met her earlier so that you could save her from whatever took her memories,' Celeborn said with a faint smile. 'Am I right?'

Glorfindel offered no reply, but he hesitated just long enough to confirm Celeborn's statement. Azshar glanced across at him, taken aback.

'We know what took her memory,' he said. 'It was Maglor. And we think we know why.'

Azshar stared at him, suddenly apprehensive. She remembered Nerwen from her previous life, but only barely. Could she and Celeborn really be trusted with knowledge of the silmaril?

But Glorfindel nodded at her, his eyes earnest. Trust me. Trust them. So she lifted her locket to her lips and whispered the password. It opened, and with care, she picked out the silmaril and held it up so that Galadriel and Celeborn could see.

Galadriel's eyes shone in the mesmerising light of the jewel, and Celeborn went utterly still. Horror and amazement mixed in his face.

'It cannot be,' he whispered.

'Maglor doesn't know I have it,' Azshar said. 'But he knows that I know where it is, and he wants me to forget.'

There was a silence as they all stared at the silmaril. Neither Galadriel nor Celeborn asked to hold it, and after a long moment, Azshar dropped it back into her locket and closed it away.

'You knew her,' Glorfindel said to Galadriel. 'Did she live with you in Doriath?'

'Whether she did or did not, it might be best not to discuss such things,' Celeborn interrupted. Azshar looked down. He was right; if something was said in front of her, it might trigger a memory. Galadriel could tell Glorfindel all about her when she was elsewhere.

'One more thing,' she said suddenly, pulling out the single strand of hair that was curled inside the locket. It was a match for the colour of Galadriel's hair. 'Is this yours?'

Galadriel smiled suddenly. 'I remember the day I gave that to you,' she said. 'I did it to spite Fëanor, if you can believe it.'

'And also out of love for me, I hope,' Azshar joked. Galadriel laughed.

'Mostly out of love for you, I admit. Look at this.' She held out her right hand. On the middle finger was a beautifully-wrought ring of startling beauty – but on her little finger was a smaller, plainer ring. Under glass was set a dark coil of hair.

'Is that mine?' Azshar asked in surprise.

'You gave it to me in return,' Galadriel said, withdrawing her hand. 'I never lost it.'

Azshar let out a breath. She felt like she was living in a memory, conversing with Nerwen as though no time had passed, as though Maglor had left Azshar's memories alone.

'So Maglor is alive, and still bound by the oath he swore to his father,' Celeborn said, changing the subject. Azshar's smile faded.

'We lost him in Moria,' she said. 'He might have died, but we have no way of knowing.'

'I kicked him down a flight of stairs,' Glorfindel explained.

'Then the border guards will be told to be on alert,' Celeborn said. 'We will see to it that he does not get in.'

'He would not dare,' Galadriel said simply, straightening. 'He knows what Azshar is to me, and I'll wager he knows by now of my power. You will be safe here.'

'Thank you,' Azshar said, running a hand over her face. Galadriel touched her cheek gently.

'I can see how weary you are,' she said. 'Your friends have been taken back to the ground, so they can sleep comfortably. Will you stay with them?'

'I think so,' Azshar replied, glancing at Glorfindel. He didn't protest.

'Sleep,' Galadriel said. 'Be easy. We will speak more tomorrow.' She turned to Glorfindel. 'And I will speak with you, too. But first you will see a healer.'

'I'll be fine,' he said with a sigh, and Galadriel looked amused.

'I am very wise and very old, Glorfindel of Gondolin,' she said.

'And I am older,' he shot back. She laughed.

'Goodnight, my friends. Goodnight, melda.' She took Azshar's face in her hands and studied her features briefly before placing a kiss on her forehead. 'The Valar have blessed me by bringing you back to me. It is something beyond belief.'

'I'm glad to see you too,' Azshar said earnestly. 'I'm sorry I can't be… who I used to be to you. I wish I could.'

Galadriel took her hands in hers. 'If I can't have who you once were, then I will have who you are now,' she said. 'It is infinitely better than not having you at all.'

'Do I seem the same to you as I used to be?' asked Azshar quietly. 'Or have I changed?'

'You seem happier than you were,' Galadriel answered frankly. 'Much happier. You are carrying a much lighter burden. But you are still you, Azshar. I can see that.'

Azshar and Glorfindel left Galadriel and Celeborn behind and wound their way down the staircases until they reached the forest floor. They wove through the trees in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Azshar could see the Fellowship's camp ahead of them when Glorfindel caught her by the arm and pulled her to a stop.

'What Celeborn said before,' he began awkwardly. 'It sounded… ridiculous.'

'About you wanting to save me before you even knew me,' she said, smiling slightly. 'It is ridiculous, yes.'

'It isn't that simple,' he said. 'I am frustrated that I didn't know you, and I wish I could have helped you. That's true.'

'I can understand that,' she said quietly. 'I think I know you well enough to know what you mean by it.'

'I wish I could have met you in the First Age,' said Glorfindel, looking down. 'I was different then. The world was different then.'

'Maybe I was different too,' she said. 'Maybe you wouldn't have felt the same way if you'd met me when we crossed the Helcaraxë.'

'I don't think so,' he said. Azshar felt her heart skip in her chest.

'Whatever might have been,' she said, 'we don't have then. We have now.'

'I'm sorry that I'm not…' he trailed off, his eyes on the ground.

'What?'

'Better,' he said. 'I wish I could be better.'

Azshar didn't hesitate; she took his face in her hands and kissed him. He kissed her back with surprising gentleness.

'I don't want better,' she whispered. 'I want you, however you are. I promise.'

'I don't deserve you.'

'Yes, you do.'

He pulled away from her, his expression turning bitter. 'You should go to sleep,' he said. 'We're safe here, and you're exhausted.'

'So are you,' she said with a frown. He shook his head.

'I'm going to see a healer.'

She smiled slowly. 'Really? Galadriel got to you?'

'Don't sound so surprised,' he muttered, and he kissed her again before pushing her gently in the direction of the camp. 'Sleep.'

'I love you,' she said. He nodded in response, and she left him among the trees.

Tents had been erected for them, and Azshar found one empty of people and ducked inside. She pulled off her boots and belt before collapsing onto the mattress with a groan, letting her cloak cover her instead of bothering with the blanket. Exhaustion crashed over her, and she slept.


She was sitting on a battlefield, alone in the ruin. The earth was split in massive, deep fissures, heat radiating out of each one. Azshar sat at the edge of one of these fissures, staring down at the river of molten lava far beneath her.

She had never felt so hollow, so miserably empty.

Night had fallen, and the stars were bright overhead. Azshar heard slow footsteps approach, and she looked up to see an elf coming towards her. His hair was auburn, his face streaked with soot. He only had one hand, and in it, he held a silmaril.

She recognised him. He was the elf she'd seen chained beside her on the mountain top, and standing in the burning ruins of a town. He was Maglor's brother, Maedhros.

He fell to his knees beside Azshar, and the silmaril tumbled from his fingers. It had burned them, left them blistered and red. He didn't seem to notice.

'It is done,' Maedhros choked out, looking up at the sky. 'The silmarils are ours. They are ours. My father, you can ask no more of me.'

Azshar watched him with dull dispassion as he wept beside her, a broken man. After another moment, he bent and picked up the silmaril. He glanced down at Azshar and smiled faintly, getting to his feet.

'Goodbye, Lalaith,' he said, holding the jewel to his chest. He stepped to the edge of the great chasm, and let himself tumble over. She watched as he was engulfed soundlessly by the lava.

Then she got up and walked away.


We are getting scary close to the end of part two! For that reason, if I can find the time and energy, I might try to get the next two chapters out early. Big hugs to everyone who has read this far!

Keep an eye out for chapter 28, when we delve into theology, the hobbits go stargazing, Gimli and Legolas become best buds offscreen, and Azshar takes a look in the mirror...