Thank you for the many positive reviews on my previous chapter! There were great!
Some of you asked a sequel. Well, here it is. I hope you like it!
Some places are not made for mortals…
… Valar, have mercy! Protect my husband, my child, my family. Valar, protect us…
… Beauty has its price. It always has…
… I entered the palace, and what I saw, can not be described…
Some places are not made for mortals…
… Beware of the gold! For it is treacherous, and cunning, and will seduce you...
… And when I looked into the water, I saw the Lady of the Crystal lake…
… Blood in the sands! Woman raped, children abandoned, men slaughtered, and what for?...
Some places are not made for mortals…
… Be blessed! O, my Lord, be...
… Report to the King! We are outnumbered! We must retreat!...
…Tell us a story, master bard!...
Some places are not made…
"I know, I know! Some places are not made for mortals! And could all of you now please shut up, everyone!" Gimli's shout echoed in the vastness of the Great Desert. Hush, Hush, the voices whispered. And then they were gone, leaving only an eerie silence. Even the wind seemed to have died a temporarily, quiet death.
"Peace, my friend. They do not harm us. They just are, captured by magic and time." Legolas didn't even turn his head.
Some places are not made for mortals.
But sometimes, some mortals don't care.
"You still didn't explain why we had to come to this Valar forsaken place," Gimli grumbled, in a futile attempt to fill the silence that sounded deafening loud in the absence of the whispers. He didn't like the desert. In the daytime, the sand spat out a more torrid heath than the most furious dragon did, and as compensation, it tried to freeze those who hadn't succumb to the warmth at night. Besides this small inconvenience, the desert also made it a game to hide whatever water there was to be found, and stretched her golden robes endless far to discourage every traveller who was so bold to challenge the sands.
Some places are not made for mortals…
O, shut up.
"I did tell you our purpose already. It seems dwarven memory runs short."
"And it seems elven eloquence failed to utter more than 'I need to return something'."
"That's exactly the essence of our purpose. What else is there to say?"
"Do not test me, princeling. I will not undergo heath and ice for one crazy Elf! Now tell me where we are going to or I'll leave you here and the you can find your own way."
"It seems to me that I'm the one who is riding, and therefore, I would be the one leaving you."
Gimli almost literally fumed, causing Gilnar to trample nervously. "Do you want to test my battle skills on a horse? 'Cause I assure you, I'm still most capable to handle my axe in case a certain Elf irritates me a little longer."
"Peace my friend. Apparently dwarven temper rises along with the temperature. What about the legendary dwarven patience? Did you not mention one of your kind standing by a stone for months to examine the breathing of the rock? Peace!" he added, as Gimli began to sputter furiously. "I'll answer your questions, if you let me. We are riding to a sanctuary for my people. It is the place where the Nymphs were created, and where the Bow of Power and Love was made. And now, it is my duty to return it to its true owners. The circle has to be sealed."
"I don't see a circle. I see only sand. Lots of sand. And that's it," Gimli grumbled, but he was satisfied with the answers for the moment. Surely he wouldn't give the Elf the last word, and he refused to ask for the 'true owners'. He would see them soon enough. That he hoped, at least.
… And thus, the sacred gifts of Yavanna Kelementari were destroyed, and therefore…
There they were again.
"What are these voices actually?" Gimli asked, momentarily forgotten his intention not to ask anything anymore.
"I told you already."
Gimli grabbed for his axe. Legolas, sensing the angry movement behind him, just sighed. "So much for the dwarven patience. Lay down that axe, Gimli. As I said before, the voices are those of people who passed here long ago. Their messages and prayers are captured by the magic of this place. One day, others may hear our voices too, long after we passed into the West." There was that melancholic tone again. Gimli silently cursed himself. His friend had suffered long enough. It was time to depart from these shores. Only this one, last journey, and then it would be over.
… and the waves broke, and the Western wind whispered, and the sea sang…
Legolas had heard tales about the Diamond of the Sands since he was toddler. Every night, his mother used to take him on her lap and told stories that every Nymph-child had to hear. He had imagined the wonderful palace, and the fairness of the sorceress, and the powerful magic, and had wondered if he would become as noble as the prince one day.
Later, after his mother had died and he had received the Bow of Power and Love, he had thought that he would give it one day to his own child, to aid him to defeat the shadows. But when the Ring was cast into the fire, and Sauron was gone, he had realised that it would be his task, his final task, to return the Bow to the prince and the sorceress, and he had felt a wave of childish excitement by the idea that he of all Nymphs would finally see the palace that had been his home during many dreams.
Such an irony! He, who he had believed to be the only one to see the Marvel of History, would be the only one to feel the chattered pieces of his dream cutting into his heart!
The palace was a ruin.
The marble, and silver, and the gold that the three brothers and the three soldiers had carved together, were dull and colourless now. The statues, once smiling friendly, stood or lied defeated in dusty rags. The proud pillars had fallen under the weight of the sky and the sun. The Crystal Lake had turned into mud. There was no music anymore, no laughter, only the bleak shrieking of the wind.
It was a mockery, a scoff.
A single tear sought its way down Legolas' cheek. He didn't try to hide it, or to wipe it away. The loss of such beauty, of so many dreams, tore him apart. Behind him, Gimli changed position, uncomfortably. His arms, clutched around Legolas' belly, relaxed, and gave a soft and friendly snook. The Elf bowed his head.
After what seemed an eternity, the silence was broken.
"Perhaps it's now really time to leave, my friend," Gimli silently spoke. But none of them moved.
"Aye," Legolas nodded slowly. "Perhaps it's now really time." Though his eyes never left the ruin. Then he seemed to wake.
"But I first have to see the palace. I need to know for certain that they aren't there anymore." Gimli could have easily pressed that there was no living soul apart from themselves, but he didn't. His friend knew that as well as he did. But Legolas didn't want to see the elves who had lived here. He wanted, no, he needed to see the palace. He needed to understand that there was no future anymore for the elves in Middle-Earth. Only then, he would be ready to depart.
And thus, they entered the palace.
The inside was as worse as the outside had been. Legolas' hands were clutched to his sides as he strayed in the deserted halls. He couldn't imagine anyone finding fun in the tearing of the fine, silken tapestries that the sorceress had woven, or the destruction of the elegant furniture. In his mind, he cursed the one who had done this to the Void, and vowed silent oaths of vengeance. His eyes were flashing dangerously. Rarely an Elf became furious – meaning the folly, blind, raging anger that could possess someone and making him forget every responsibility – but when he did, the object of his rage was better off miles away. Thus it was that while he was drowning in the sweet taste of revenge, he only heard Gimli as he shouted his name for the third time.
Dazed, he let his feet come to a halt. They stood in one of the greatest halls of the palace, the one is which the Bow of Power and Love had been made. Gimli stood next to him, with a concerned expression written on his face.
"Truly they speak of the folly of Elves, for they can turn into caged animals from one moment to another," he said curtly, actually meaning: "Are you alright, my friend?"
Legolas wanted to formulate an appropriate answer, but his tongue didn't produce any sound as a figure passed dancing before him. He closed his mouth. The lady didn't even look at him. She danced to the middle of the hall and disappeared.
"What…?" On his right side, Gimli started to look more concerned with the minute.
"Legolas! What is it?" But Legolas didn't answer and ran to the place were the Lady had vanished. There was nothing there. Not even the slightest touch of magic. On the moment he decided that he had seen an illusion, another shade, this time male, passed. He practically crossed Legolas, but didn't seem bothered by it at all. Laughing, he strayed to the gate and turned around the corner. Confused, the Elf followed him, Gimli in his steps. After a few minutes, they arrived in a room that had been dedicated to entertainment. There was kind of game board with lines and points, though the purpose of it was completely strange to Legolas. In the corner, different instruments were placed, and near the grate-fire –perhaps not the best place- a great bookcase stood. The man stood in front of it, and chose a leathery, red book.
Then, something clicked inside Legolas' head. He wasn't supposed to see all this! The palace had been completely ruined! And at the same time he came to this insight, the ghosts vanished. Bewildered, Legolas turned around, but this time, he saw nothing but a broken game board, pieces of what once had been instruments, and a fallen, half-burnt bookcase. The Elf had disappeared.
"Cursed be the stubbornness of the Elves! Legolas! You will tell me what is happening!" Gimli's shout reverberated in the empty hall and made Legolas jump. He had almost forgotten that the Dwarf was with him.
"My apologies. I was…" His voice trailed off as he tried to formulate what he was actually doing.
"I thought Elves were so clever with words?" Gimli snorted, temporarily appeased since his friend seemed to have heard him.
"I see… them." Legolas was plunged in thought and didn't react.
"Who?"
"The prince and the sorceress. And the Diamond, as it once was. I see their ghosts, Gimli! I see them running here, and lauging, and…" The countenance of the Dwarf softened.
"I know. I know, my friend. It's hard to see such fairness ruined. Shouldn't we better leave? It was a though day." Legolas had already opened his mouth to say that he wasn't crazy, that he really saw them, but then, a clear voice filled his mind.
"Hush, my son, hush. He is right. You time here is at an end. Go to the West. Return the Bow to us." The music in her voice was so rich, so pure, that Legolas would have liked to cry, but the presence of Gimli stopped him.
"It will be as you wish, my Lady," he answered mentally, hoping fiercely that she would speak once more. But all remained silent. So he decided that he would go, and then he would hear her voice again.
"Yes, Gimli, we should leave."
And in the tales of the Nymphs, it is told that one day, a little, white swan-ship arrived at Alqualondë, that bore the curious friendship between an Elf and a Dwarf. Many were there to welcome them. Thranduil could be seen, with Taurniel by his side. Orophin stood there also, as did Elrond and Celebrian and their twin sons. Many of the Nymphs were present, and some say that even Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn and Lady Melian and Lord Thingol graced the gathered Elves with their beauty and wisdom. During many days, they feasted, for every reason was good enough for joy and merrymaking in the Blessed Realm.
But on the seventh day, the Dwarf and the Elf isolated themselves, and undertook a journey towards the deserted Eastern shore. They left the silver and marble streets of Alqualondë, and crossed the ever-green forests of Aman, sheltered by the golden leaves, guided by the silver trunks, lit by the glistening stars that had chosen their homes in the crowns of the trees. They passed the magnificent mountains, covered by untouched snow. They entered the Desert Realm, and journeyed the Path of the Oases. And finally, though their travelling had been joyful, they reached the Diamond.
There are no words that can describe the sheer splendour of the place. Even the Dwarf couldn't recognise the materials in which it was built, for they were only found in the most sacred places of the world and the heavens, and they were granted the Prince and the Sorceress by both Varda and Yavanna. And many, many of the people of the Elves, and of the Maia, and of the Starfolk, had helped building the palace, and the love for each other and for their work radiated from every tear of the moon, from every laugh of the sun, from every game of the wind that had been captured there. And it was in that palace, that Legolas, son of Taurniel, descendant of the Prince and the Sorceress, met the two honourful Elves.
These are the words that were spoken there.
"Legolas, Greenleaf, Thranduilion. My heart gladdens to see you. Words have reached us of your honour and courage in the realm that was called Eryn Lasgalen, or Mirkwood, or the Northern Woodland Realm, and in the War of the Ring. Be welcomed here, my son." Thus spoke the prince, and the son of Thranduil and Taurniel knelt in awe, for in every words vibrated his royalty and strength. Then, the Sorceress spoke.
"Legolas, friend of Estel, friend of Gimli. Great is you heart and great is your love. Taurnielion, be welcomed here." And her voice was so rich and so ethereal, that tears of joy made the white floor beaming. The Sorceress looked down at him with a compassionate gaze, then she knelt and lifted the chin of her descendant.
"You have come from far and travelled long to return the Bow to us. That will not be forgotten. Stay here, as long as you want, and rest. Tomorrow, we will set the Bow on its rightful place, where it will never be used in war again. Then, you will have fulfilled your destiny, and we will grant you and your honoured friend some of our gifts, and you will finally find peace and happiness."
And so, it happened.
And thus, the circle was sealed.
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