Out of Mirkwood
Scribbles-on-Parchment
June 6, 2020
Chapter 45 – Úmmon
"Erda i-annon or so help me I will tear it to pieces!" Kélion pounded on the thick wood of the door with his fist, "Úmmon I swear to the Valar that if you do anything to my adar I will kill you with my own two hands."
There was silence on the other side of the door, broken only by the sound of smashing pottery. What in Eru's name was going on in there? He spun back to face Êmand who was talking with a guard about ways to get the door open.
"How did this happen?" the words exploded from his lips before he ever realized he was saying them, "You promised me you would not leave the room. You promised me you would protect him," The prince ignored Meldir's warning look, "This sort of negligence is the reason why Legolas is not here today."
Kélion turned away from the Silvan elf before he could see the deep pain that washed over the mentor's face. His mind was too riddled with anxiety and worries to be concerned about the hurt his words had caused. He glanced over at Meldir who just stared at him in a mix of disappointment and sorrow,
"Just get the door open. Preferably before someone else I love is killed."
The crown prince ran his hand through his blond hair as he watched the royal guards hammer away at the door. Meanwhile he tried to calm his emotions as the realization that his adar might die before he reached him began to sink in.
"Naethen, my prince," Êmand's soft voice behind him almost made Kélion jump in surprise, "It was never my intention to leave the king's side. Úmmon tricked me into checking on the guards stationed outside the door and locked me out before I realized what he was doing."
The Sinda did not seem to react to these words but continued to stare, with a tense jaw at the frantic activity of the guards.
Thranduil felt his breath catch in his chest as he stared into the dark brown eyes of his attacker.
"Úmmon."
The name came out as no more than a faint whisper from his parched lips, but it was enough for the king to spot a flicker of doubt flash in the ellon's eyes.
"What are you doing? Do you truly let such darkness control your heart that you would seek to become a kinslayer?"
The Sinda's voice remained raspy and weak, yet the words had the desired effect on the elf whose hand slipped slightly on his sword. There looked to be a battle being fought in the eldar's eyes.
"All you must do is lay your sword down. All will be forgiven."
Thranduil slowly began to stretch his arm out towards the hilt of the sword that remained pressed to his neck ready to take his life in an instant. He cursed silently as his hand began to shake from the strain. When had he grow so weak?
"You do not understand. He will kill me if I do not do this," Úmmon seemed to choke back a sob, "He sees everything. He knows everything."
The king was alarmed by the haunted look that crossed the elf's eyes. The blade began biting into his neck as the healer seemed to be losing the battle against the darkness in his heart. Thranduil's heart hammered in his chest. Was this really how his long would come to an end? Part of him wanted to fight this, but another part of him also yearned to see the beautiful faces of his wife and youngest son again. But what of Kélion? How would his firstborn ever be able to cope with so much loss?
"You are not yourself," for the first time in many years Thranduil's voice wavered, "Do not do this."
There were so many questions flooding the elven king's mind, but most importantly he wanted to know where his eldest son was. Throughout all of this there had been a persistent pounding and muffled voices coming from outside of the room. Had his son discovered his plight was trying to reach him or had Úmmon killed him first?
Just as Thranduil's shaking hand landed on the hilt of the healer's sword, he heard Úmmon whisper,
"Naethen hîr nín. I pray that when we meet in the Mandos you will find it in your heart to forgive me."
"No!"
Desperation immediately flooded the eldar's body. His legs, though weak, lashed out from under the thin, white sheet that lay over him striking the Silvan elf in the side. Úmmon stumbled forward with a surprised grunt and as the grip loosened Thranduil yanked the weapon from his grasp.
Adrenaline flooded his body and strengthened him, the Sinda forced himself into a sitting position, sword pointed directly at the healer's chest.
Nalledir let out a soft groan as he came to. His head felt as if it were on fire and a warm substance was running down the side of his face. He put a hand to his forehead where the burning pain originated from. It came back sticky with blood. There was a loud ringing in his ears as he attempted to stand. and as he struggled to his feet the world around him turned to a sickly shade of grey and his leg threatened to give way under him.
The young healer stumbled forward barely managing not to fall. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his vision as a loud pounding noise and shouts began to filter through the ringing in his ears.
The king.
Immediately Nalledir's head shot up. Thranduil was in danger, Úmmon was going to kill him. The young healer's vision and hearing were beginning to clear and he could make out the Sinda sitting on his bed, sword in hand.
"Hîr nín," the ellon gasped as he noticed the tip of the formidable weapon was resting on Úmmon's chest right above his heart.
The elven king's dark blue eyes came to rest on him, taking in the blood coating the left side of his fair face and the nasty gash on his temple. Nalledir was sure that he must look frightful and was thankful that his naneth was not here to seem him like this.
"Úmmon. Why?"
These were the only words that the healer could say he glanced over at the king's would be assassin. He noted the defeat in the elf's posture and almost crazed look in his normally concerned brown eyes. This was not Úmmon. How had such a great healer fallen to such a level as this?
"Nalledir, go and open the door. The danger is over for the moment, " Thranduil's voice was quiet, yet still held a great deal of power and the young healer quickly set to do his bidding.
"Wait!" Úmmon's frantic voice made the Silvan stop in his tracks, "Just kill me now. I cannot live like this anymore and I will be dead soon when he finds out anyway."
"Who?" Nalledir turned back towards his mother's dearest friend, "Who has such a command over your soul that you would seek to kill for him?"
The elder healer did not answer but only pushed himself forward into the blade in Thranduil's hand, his intentions clear. However as the tip of the blade pierced his skin the Sindarin king pulled the weapon away and threw it to the far side of the room by the door. Blue eyes full of sorrow, the ellon said quietly
"You may seek your own death, but I do not. The power to end your life is not in your hands and nor is it in mine. Only the Valar can decide this."
As the realization began to set in for the distraught healer, Nalledir moved towards the eldar unsure of what he would be driven to do next. A thin line of blood stood out on Úmmon's pale blue tunic right above his heart.
"Come mellon nín let me clean you up before you hurt yourself further."
Nalledir reached out to put a hand on the elf's arm but pulled back as the ellon gasped,
"No. I will not be left to rot in some dark prison. You cannot save me, no matter how hard you try."
The young ellon cast one glance at the look in Úmmon's eye and knew exactly what he was about to do. There was a flash of metal as the elder healer grabbed a small dagger from his tunic and plunged it toward his heart, intent on finishing the job that the sword had started.
Nalledir gave a cry of disbelief and lunged at the weapon. His hand closed around the blade of the dagger a moment before it would have found its mark in the Silvan's chest. A sharp pain flared through his hand he twisted the blade out of the elf's grasp. He hissed as blood began to flow from the deep cuts to the palm of his hand, but he ignored them quickly tossing the weapon out of Úmmon's reach.
The younger eldar reached out and touched the healer's shoulder with his bloody hand as the elf stood there stunned.
"You cannot do this. I will not stand here and watch you kill yourself. We can make this right. We can fix this."
To both his and Thranduil's surprise Úmmon fell forward into Nalledir's arms, tears suddenly flooding his eyes. The young elf stood stunned for a moment as the elf seemed to collapse into his arms.
Thranduil was so dismayed by everything that had happened that he did not fully realize the door to the healing chambers had finally been forced open until he was all but smothered in the arms of his son.
"I am so sorry adar. It was never my intention to leave you in such danger. I did not know he was the assassin. I am so sorry."
The elven king returned the hug, a small smile gracing his lips.
"Do not be sorry, ion nín for I am sure I am quite old enough to care for myself."
Kélion pulled away at these words and glared angrily at the Sinda.
"Now is not the time to make light of such things. Úmmon could have killed or gravely injured you. Would you be smiling then?"
Thranduil sighed deeply and glanced over at the guards who had restrained Úmmon. The lead healer put up no fight, his figure speaking of resignation and defeat; neither of which should ever grace that of one of the eldar.
"Hîr nín what is it that you would have us do with him?"
Before Thranduil could answer Kélion spat,
"Take him to the dungeons and lock him up. I will see to him later."
As Úmmon was led out of the room Meldir moved forward to help Nalledir up from the floor. His hand was still bleeding heavily but Thranduil could sense that the deepest hurt was in his heart.
"Ion nín, help me up please. I desire to be moved to my rooms. I do not wish to stay here any longer."
The crown prince nodded and gently helped the Sinda to the edge of the bed.
"I am so glad you are awake adar. I am truly at a loss without you."
Elvish Translations:
erda i-annon – open the door
adar – father
naethen – i am sorry (my sorrow)
hîr nín – my lord
naneth – mother
mellon nín – my friend
ion nín – my son