A/N: Well, this year's been fun. On a personal update, I did have my surgery back in March. I came through okay, but if I at any point thought I would be able to do any writing while recovering, I was very wrong. Post-op painkillers are not great for creativity. I had some pretty major complications as well, just as I thought I would be able to go back to work, which also delayed me getting back into the swing of things. I had hoped to do more writing for NANOWRIMO but "current events" hit my office pretty hard, and I've been doing a lot of extra work at my office. The good news is Chapter 15 is done, and Chapter 16 is probably done but I'm going to let it marinate until this weekend, just to be sure. I am doing much better though. I'm in physical therapy twice a week, and though I still get headaches, they're more a result of me overdoing it than the condition I had surgery for. I hope you all are well, and if you're not, I hope you're on the mend soon. May the holidays be kind to you. Enjoy!


Chapter 14: All the Roses Falling

CLANG!

Lydia's sword struck the rock-encrusted arm of the giant with which she grappled, and sparks flew. Pain roared through her side like fire with each move she made, and every breath was like splinters of glass in her lungs. The creature spun its fist wide and twisted the blade from her hand. It raised its other appendage, a muddy mass with small tree branches splayed out like fingers so it resembled a grotesque hand, and slapped her down. Lydia lay sprawled on her back, the last of her shallow breaths knocked out of her. With an ugly, gurgling laugh, the creature raised an elephantine foot and aimed it at her torso.

Far across the field, the battle was winding down. The wood elves had managed to drive back or cut down most of the Erlking's monstrous band of giants. Orëna and Gilrohir stood by looking for stragglers. Seeing Lydia helpless against her opponent, Orëna raised her horned bow, nocked an arrow and fired.

The beast gasped as Orëna's arrow impaled its throat. Lydia turned onto her side and saw her sword lying only a few feet away. Stumbling to her feet, she took up her sword with both hands and with one last great effort, sliced the fiend's head off. It dropped to its knees then collapsed to the ground and did not move. A scream echoed through the air as Lydia dropped her sword. Pain erupted from her side once more. The world began to spin, and Lydia fell to her knees. Through the fog in her mind, she registered Orëna's hands around her and the healer's voice asking where she was hurt. Lydia ignored the inquiry.

"Leave me," she said, every breath like a knife in her side. "Leave me."

Lydia pointed to a spot about a dozen yards away. Orëna's eyes followed her direction, and she gasped.

"Oh, no."

Lying face down in the snow, blood pooled beneath him, was Elrodan.

"It's my fault. It's my fault."

Lydia could not form any other phrase in her mind as the fog in her mind darkened.

"Naurelin, take Minariel to the infirmary," said Orëna, dropping to her knees beside her fallen friend.

Having heard the commotion, many of the wood elves had rushed over, including Orëna's young apprentice. Naurelin tried to pull Lydia away, but she would not move. Gilrohir had arrived. Lydia stood frozen, watching as their commander dropped to the ground and turned Elrodan's body over. Lying across Gilrohir's knees, the body was motionless as stone. Green eyes stared unseeing at the sky.

"Elrodan?"

The voice that called out his name was Gilrohir's, though the wood elves' could scarcely recognize it. Their commander's voice was robust and masterful. Now, as he cradled his lover in his arms and futilely called his name, the voice which had so often delivered orders or barked out fierce admonitions had grown small and thin.

"Help him," demanded Gilrohir. The words shook so badly that Orëna barely understood them. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Fix him. Now."

"Gilrohir," whispered Orëna.

"Do it!"

"I cannot. Gilrohir, he's gone!" insisted Orëna. She grasped her commander's arms, but he threw her off. Orëna tried again, this time capturing Gilrohir's hand and pressing the palm to the quiet chest. "Elrodan is gone."

Gilrohir raised his eyes. Daggers of rage pierced through the tears that swam in them as he stared the healer down.

"If you cannot fix him then why are you here?"

"Gilrohir," said Orëna softly. She laid hand on Gilrohir's shoulder, and this time, he did not shrug her off.

"Come, Minariel," said Naurelin.

Pain burned through Lydia's side. Every breath felt like fire. Her feet felt frozen into the snow like tree roots in winter, and every thought ran wild like images in a dream. Yesterday and today were as far apart as one star is from another. Tears burned in her eyes and froze onto her skin.

"There is nothing more you can do here. Please come, Minariel."

Naurelin pulled harder, and finally Lydia dislodged her rooted feet and allowed herself to be dragged away. As Naurelin pulled her into the warmth of the indoors, the outdoor clamor faded away, and slowly a song of lament rose into the cold, unfeeling air.


"What do you mean, 'one of us is slain'?" shouted Scott.

The wood elf looked at him stricken. Scott looked back into his pale face. He had often marveled at the ethereal glow of the wood elves, so similar and yet so different from the sparkled shimmer of the elves of the Pole. He had often joked to his wife that the wood elves must have brought a crate of shimmer highlight with them to produce such an effect. Looking at the elf before him, he thought that the glow had faded, like an inner light within him had somehow died. The elf did not shed a tear, but his breaths came in tremulous shudders.

"Okay, hey, I'm sorry. What happened? Who was it? It wasn't Lydia, was it?"

"Lydia?"

"I think you call her Minariel?"

"No. Minariel is injured, I believe. Elrodan did not survive the battle."

"Elrodan?" said Carol, shocked.

"Please," said the wood elf, as though struggling to collect himself. "Try to stay out of the way."

The wood elf moved to turn away and leave, but Scott grabbed his arm.

"Wait. What's your name?"

"Mitheryn."

"Is there anything we can do to help?"

Carol laid a hand gently on the wood elf's sleeve. A frisson ran through him like ripples of water, as though her touch had shaken loose the stone of a memory that had fallen into the river of his mind and stirred the waters.

"Surely there must be something your people need."

"I will ask."

Mitheryn gazed on them enigmatically with his shining eyes then bowed and disappeared, leaving the pair of mortals to their task of reorganizing their elves and bearing to them the tragic news.


At the news that one of the wood elves had been killed, Bernard had not stayed to find out who it was. Instead he had taken off at a run, leaving the bewildered wood elf to usher the elves out of hiding on her own. Bernard's heart pounded as he flew like lightning to the infirmary. His own voice, harsh with anger and terror, berated him harshly in his mind for not spending more time with Lydia, for shunning her like a leper, for not naming a single thought, even when she begged him to. Never, not in the hundreds of years of his memory, had he ever spoken as harshly to another as his mind's voice spoke to him now.

Too soon and too slow, he found himself at the infirmary doors. The place was bustling with activity. Several of the beds were occupied, though it seemed most of the injuries were minor.

"You shouldn't be here."

His view was suddenly blocked by the broad mass that was Orëna.

"Is Lydia okay?" said Bernard in a voice so strained and shrilled, he even shocked himself. "I heard someone was killed."

A strange look passed over Orëna's face that was somewhere between grief and rage. Her massive hand balled into a fist, and her eyes shone wetly in the low light.

"Minariel is injured but will recover," said Orëna tightly. At this, Bernard exhaled in great relief, but Orëna continued. "Elrodan is dead."

Bernard felt his heart drop about a foot. He had not known Elrodan, or any of the other wood elves for that matter, very well. But he had seemed pleasant, and Lydia had spoken highly of him when telling of her time in Elbereth. Elrodan too, he remembered suddenly, was close friends with Orëna.

"I'm sorry," said Bernard quietly. The words seemed little comfort, though Bernard was not surprised. He decided to tread a little gentler. "Please, can I see her?"

"She is resting and can see nobody."

"Can you tell her I was here at least?"

"For all the good it might do for her, I shall."

Orëna's expression was impossible for him to read. He soon found himself standing back outside in the hallway with the oaken door to the infirmary closed inches away from his face. Bernard scowled at the door. Realizing that he could make neither it nor the elven sentinel on the other side vanish by glaring at them, he began to pace agitatedly in front of them, wringing his hands. That was how Santa found him when he ran up to him in the hallway.

"Bernard, I've been looking all over for you," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Lydia's in there. The healers won't let me see her."

"Is she okay? What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. She got knocked off her horse and hit the ground pretty hard. They said she was going to be okay, but-"

"Bernard, relax. If they said she's going to be okay, then she's going to be okay. Just let them do their thing."

"Yeah, but-"

"I'm sure they'll let you in to see her as soon as they're done fixing her up. Just calm down. I need you focused."

"Right. What's wrong?"

"One of the wood elves died."

Bernard felt himself blush guiltily. So consumed had he been with thoughts of Lydia, he had not allowed himself to truly appreciate the weight of the wood elf's death.

"I know. I heard."

"This place is a madhouse. The elves, our elves, are going nuts. I need you to do some damage control and get everyone calmed down. See if there's anything the healer elves need. I think they've got their hands full."

Bernard nodded and took a couple deep breaths. He was grateful to have something to do other than wringing his hands and wearing a hole in the floor.

"Bernard?" Santa's voice pulled him back into focus. "She's going to be alright, okay?"

Bernard nodded again, not trusting his voice as his boss demanded he believe something he could not until he verified it with his own eyes. For now, it hardly mattered. Bernard would not be permitted to see Lydia, and his attentions were needed elsewhere. With great reluctance, he tore himself away from his position in front of the door of the hospital wing and off into the factory to do what he could to stem the chaos.


Bernard did not get to see Lydia at all that day. At the request of Naurelin and Orëna, he set the elves in the kitchen to work boiling water to treat wounds. The elves who tended the reindeer were more than happy to take on the duties of tending to the wood elves' tired and agitated horses. A few of the older wrappers he sent to the hospital wing to receive a quick lesson in first aid and help tend less severe injuries, and some of the elfin seamstresses were ordered to abandon their seamstressing and get to work making bandages. As for the rest of the elves, he assured them that the Erlking's creatures had been chased off or destroyed, that everything was fine, but they still had a deadline to meet so get back to work, please. As hard as he tried to keep his voice steady and firm, he realized that his uncharacteristic detachment had unsettled them. Nevertheless, they obeyed his instructions, and after reporting to Santa that the factory had been restored to something akin to its normal hustle and bustle, he found himself once more in front of the doors to the hospital wing.

"She's asleep," Orëna said with the same coldness with which she had dismissed him before. His face fell. The hardness did not fully lift from her face, but it left her eyes as she added, "You should think of doing the same, sir."

Orëna then closed the door between them once more and left Bernard alone. Once she had done this, she walked over to the cot on which Lydia lay, pretending to be asleep, and bent down to her eye level.

"Your boy came by," she said. "Twice."

Lydia did not look up but instead stared off into the middle distance, not meeting Orëna's eye.

"I don't want to see him."

It was an honest truth, and she hated herself for it.

"I cannot blame you for that," huffed Orëna. Her annoyance on Lydia's behalf was little comfort.

"There is plenty else for me to be blamed for."

"What do you mean?" said Orëna, frowning.

Lydia pushed herself to a sitting position

"He was protecting me. Elrodan. He died protecting me. I failed. All those years of training, and I failed."

"Battles are full of loss. This was your first. I will not believe that Elrodan's death was your doing."

"Orëna…" began Lydia, shaking her head, but Orëna raised a hand.

"You will get no absolution from me, for I do not believe you require it. You did not ask for this life, or to be a soldier. Not anymore than Elrodan asked to die. Now get some sleep. You'll feel better about it in the morning."

"You don't really believe that?"

"No, I don't. But you need it anyway, so you best close your eyes and hope it's true."

"Will you not rest, Orëna?"

"Not when there's healer's work to be done."

"Orëna, I'm sorry. He was your friend."

Orëna looked down at her and smiled warmly.

"So are you. I shall shed my tears for Elrodan when every single one of you is on the mend and not before. Now, rest."

The pain in Lydia's ribs had eased a little. In the very least, she could breathe a little easier now. Air filled and exited her lungs properly for the first time since the juggernaut had slammed its muddy fist into her side and thrown her from Isolde's back. Darkness crept into her vision, and twin tear tracks fell across her face as she buried it into the pillow. Soon she drifted off, and she did not wake again until morning.


A/N: Mitheryn means "Gray Forest" but his name was almost NAME, and would have been had I not scrolled through at the last minute and notice I had left his name as the placeholder. Chapter 15 should be up sometime this week. Thanks for reading and have a lovely day.