A/N: This isn't as long as my last chapter, so don't worry; story momentum won't be too horribly interrupted…
And I met Craig Parker! Woo!
Enjoy!
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I cannot tell you how hard it was for me not to send images to Glorfy when Fiona and I talked about the stupidest thing Fiona's ever come up with. To that end, I suggested as strongly as I could that Fiona and I get this over with before my wandering mind could give the plan away before I could stop it. Fiona agreed wholeheartedly with this. Didn't surprise me in the slightest.
The Dagorlad was quiet. Not an Orc stirred on the barren bit of ground between the camps and the Morannon, the Dark Gates of Mordor. That, most unfortunately, was about to change. Or so we hoped.
As part of the Plan, I had to slip back to the tent that Fe and had shared as sisters and retrieve something that no one had thought about for at least a week or two. And hope that it was still there, of course. If it'd been moved, I was going to have to get creative about my part in The Plan, and I wasn't looking forward to that.
Glorfy was distracted. Gilly had him tied up in something to do with the armies and so forth, and as such, he didn't have a spare thought to turn to me. This insulted me somewhat, given our recent bonding, but in many ways, I was grateful – for once – for the workings of the Alliance keeping my Elf away.
Walking as nonchalantly as I could through the camp to our old tent, I hummed to myself a catchy little tune that I hoped would get stuck in my head and end up as background noise in Glorfy's, so he would just think that I was off wondering about the camp in boredom.
"I think I'll go for a walk outside now, the summer sun's calling my name!" I giggled to myself. Often I'd sing this song for the sole purpose of pissing Fe off. It served my purpose now because it was rather repetitive, so I kept it up. And, because I know my own mind (a little, anyway), I knew that some part of it would be humming that song for the rest of the damn day, and probably the rest of the friggin' week, if not the rest of the seven years we were going to be stuck in the godforsaken hell hole called Mordor.
As far as I know, it worked at the time. I certainly didn't notice Glorfy's attention on me for more than a few passing seconds at a time before the need to work out a plan took his attention away from me again.
Passing Elves regarded me with either knowing looks or bland distaste. One or two of them even smiled, but not the majority of them. Oh well – if they aren't going to lighten up, then I'm certainly going to. I'm sure that my perspective on life is wholly unique to humans who have done some Thinking. In the current camp, I'm pretty sure my perspective on life was wholly unique to Fiona and myself (and sometimes, I think, only to me), namely – to squeeze one more use out of an over-worn cliché – 'If life gives you lemons, make lemonade'.
Now, that's not to say 'be cheerful all the time'. That's just to say, as Terry Pratchett once put it, "It's a funny old world. You have to laugh."
Because if you don't, you'll end up as the Elves did towards the end, so wrapped up in sorrow that they couldn't be happy if someone paid them, dwelling on the past, fading because the grief got too great to handle. About the only thing I can think of to say about that is 'Get over it,' and, somehow, I don't think the others of my new species would be particularly receptive to that idea.
Stop looking at me like that. I adore the Elves. I longed for so long to be one of them, or to just see one, even if I could never be one. I thought as they thought – over the long term – because I wanted to think like them. And I went nuts. 'Spastic', I think, is the term I used at the time. I grew so worried about what might happen, and so upset that I just didn't have the time, that I nearly got religious.
But I got over it. I eventually came to grips with the idea that now is the time you have to worry about, because now is happening now, rather than then, and there are no ifs attached to it. It's just now.
And right now, I had to slip into my old tent unnoticed, retrieve something necessary, and make it back to Fiona before either of our Elves – or Elrond, if he was out and about – realized we were up to something.
After I'd concealed my prize about my person, I high-tailed it back to the other end of the camp while endeavouring to appear as though I wasn't hurrying at all. This, of course, is harder than it looks because I know for a fact that my body language broadcasts, "RHIANNON'S GOT A SECRET!" at the top of its proverbial lungs whenever I do, in fact, have one. I don't think anyone got suspicious, and just to make sure I started humming again after I got my heart rate to slow down.
I reached my and Glorfy's tent largely without incident (there was this somewhat embarrassing moment when I was skipping down the rows of tents and some Westron (English?) speaking Elf happened to remark in a loud voice that I'd gotten a lot more cheerful since my bonding…but I'm just going to pretend that didn't happen).
Fiona, while I'd ventured out to our old tent, had gone over to Gilly's and retrieved her backpack; a necessary ingredient for our Plan. She plunked it down next to mine, and I noticed, for the first time, that they were the most nondescript bags imaginable. Grey was the main colour – and there was a lot of it. The only thing that told them apart was a slightly different ordering of pouches, and the faint smell of rotten pineapple from Fiona's.
Are you well, melyanna? The question startled me so badly I squeaked. Fiona looked sharply at me, and I turned away from the packs to keep from thinking of the Plan. The only downside to my new bond with Glorfindel is that I no longer have my mind to myself. Oh, he'll never go searching about in my mind or anything, and I certainly won't in his, but…my mind has been my own for eighteen years – it's a bit worrisome to no longer have it completely to myself.
Ummm…why wouldn't I be well?
I sensed a change in mind from you, not two minutes ago, he answered. You seemed…embarrassed.
Oh…I went for a walk and some Elf made some remark about how I seem…happier, now that I've been bonded.
Glorfy was chuckling. I don't think he noticed the choice bits of information that I hadn't included. At least, I was hoping – praying – that he hadn't noticed. But my face went red again.
Others of the Elf kind will be able to spot the bond, my Elf explained. Especially those who have been bonded themselves.
Fark!
That is bad, melyanna? Oops…now I've gone and worried him.
No, no, I assured him. It's just…this is all so new to me…
I could feel him smiling. Do not worry, he said. Most do not consider such a bond a source of embarrassment and would not think that others would.
The bond isn't the source of embarrassment, I replied, somewhat hotly. It's that others seem to be…
I know, melyanna, he said over me. I know. And then his presence receded, and I turned back to Fiona, who was watching me concernedly.
"Sorry," I said. I told her about that incident on the way back from our tent. Looks like I couldn't just pretend that hadn't happened at all. "I don't think he picked up anything about…Silver bells! Silver bells! It's Christmas time in the morning!"
"What are you doing?" She frowned at me. I pointed at my head as I kept singing, hoping that she knew that meant that Glorfy was thinking in my direction again. But then he chuckled and went back to his work and I sighed.
"He's thinking about work again," I said.
"Good," Fiona said dryly. "Because that rendition of Silver Bells was not the best I've ever heard."
"Meh," I replied. "It's what came to mind, and it worked, from what I can tell. I'm certainly not picking up his every thought."
"Yeah, but he's had more…experience."
I stared at her, and then put out of my mind the jealousy that would have arisen had I allowed that thought to continue.
I don't know how long it took for Fiona to get ready, once I she'd picked out what she'd needed and prepared herself. But shortly after she'd finished throwing her cloak over her shoulders, someone outside hailed us (me, really, since no one knew that Fiona was here…I hoped) and I went to investigate. And found Elrond, waiting to be admitted. For once, he hadn't just waltzed right in.
"My lady Anórmír. My Lady Minaimîr," he greeted us after he'd stepped into the tent. "Congratulations upon your bonding. The morale of the troops is heartened to hear that, even in such dark times, two flames of love burn brightly against the Evil that would swallow them."
Didn't anyone ever do this to Fiona? She bonded Gilly first, after all. Why hasn't anyone announced to the whole bloody camp that she and Gilly have bonded? Or maybe everyone had noticed and just hadn't said anything, on account of the fact that Gilly's King. Failing that, no one might have noticed Fe and Gilly's bonding because that's a property of the all out bonding that I…um…I mean, maybe she hasn't completely accepted…er…
I stole a look at Fiona. She looked rather amused, really. I turned back to Elrond and said that only thing that I could say.
"Thank you." I just hoped that my face hadn't gone the colour of red that I was suspecting.
"The High King, and King Elendil request your presence in the practice ring," Elrond continued after a short bow. I noticed for the first time the armour he had piled in his arms. It looked suspiciously like the armour that we'd been wearing the day of our very first battle. "I shall await you out yonder while you prepare yourselves." He put the armour (and swords) down, bowed again, and withdrew from the tent. Fiona and I looked at each other.
This time, I didn't say 'fark'. I said something much stronger.
"Now what?" Fiona hissed.
"We get creative," I hissed back, dragging her behind the partition and into the 'inner sanctum'. My eyes lit on the back of the tent, and I got creative. "Start singing!"
"What?"
"Just sing!"
So she sang. She gave me an odd look – one that promised revenge – but she sang. I'm very proud of her – Fiona doesn't usually sing without coercion if she knows anyone's listening. "Shit scared" to is how she put it once. For her to belt out an amusing song about all the wonderful things that happen at an Australian barbeque was quite a feat. To this day, I don't know what Elrond thought of it. I joined in where I knew, of course, in what I hoped was an enthusiastic voice devoid of worry, and in the mean time, detached the bottom of the back wall of the tent from the ground.
When I had enough of the canvass up to crawl under, Fiona's song faltered. She'd been watching wearily around the partition for any sign of Elrond poking his head through, and now she turned to note the hole I'd made in the back.
"How's the next bit go?" I asked loudly, in an effort to keep up our rouse. I made frantic hand gestures at her. I've never been much of an actress, and I didn't want Elrond barging in here wondering what the hell was going on.
"I dunno," she replied. So I launched into the chorus, waited until she picked it up again, and then made gestures that hopefully conveyed my intent to slip around the tent to see if Elrond was busy or not. She nodded, but only after I'd repeated myself several times, sang the chorus with her once more, and waited until she started in on the next verse. It was imperative to our plan that Fiona get out to the Dagorlad to the Gates without anyone noticing. Noticing too quickly, anyway.
When I slipped around to the front of the tent, and peered around the edge, Elrond was seeing to a dispute between a Man and an Elf. I didn't understand a word of what was being said, since it was in rapidly spoken Elvish, but the Elf was giving the Man some terribly evil looks – never thought I'd see so much hatred directed at a human before – and the Man wasn't much better. Elrond started yelling at the pair of them, and they both stared at the ground sullenly. I resisted the urge to march right up to them and smack them hard, and tell them both to get over it. Elrond was doing a good enough job of that already.
I grinned. Elrond was quite absorbed – there was no chance, if we got out now, that he'd notice we were gone, at least for some time. I ran back around to the back of the tent.
"Come on!" I hissed, when I stuck my head through the hole I'd made. I pulled back as Fiona squeezed through. "He's settling a dispute. We've got time!"
We ran full speed in the opposite direction of the tent. My heart pounded wildly – I seriously thought it was going to explode. Or that Elrond was going to notice us tearing across the camp. When we were sufficiently far enough away, I grabbed Fiona's arm at the same time as she grabbed mine. We stopped dead.
"Are you sure you want to be doing this?" I asked. I had to be certain. "It's not too late to turn back."
"It's the only way," Fiona said, not for the first time that day. I nodded.
"Let's get this over with, then," I said. "We have hot Elves to be returning to."
I didn't say it. So help me, I didn't say that I feared that we would not be returning at all.
And twenty minutes later, that fear became certainty.
I'd pulled my hair out of the braid that Glorfy had done earlier that night and tied the leather thong that had held it around my wrist for luck before we'd even swiped the horses, and now the full length of my hair – nearly to my back side – blew out behind me.
We didn't take Minras or Gostanc this time around. They were loose in the pen, and I didn't want to bother them. Or their grooms, since we couldn't let them known we were going anywhere. But, there were these two nearly white beauties (not as beautiful as Minras, but gorgeous nonetheless) picketed right at the front and on the end furthest from the grooms and closet to us, so we took those instead.
There was a minor incident with the guards at the front. They seemed to think that we shouldn't go anywhere. We protested this, of course, and they seemed to think that they should get Gil-galad's approval. I was all for kicking them out of the way, or galloping at them with the horses, but Fiona saved the day by managing to handle it masterfully, and much better than I would have.
"Worry not – I have a guard with me, a Warrior of great skill." This after a short argument in which they nearly went and got Gilly. I noticed that the Elves very carefully did not say anything about my height, or that I had a rather large amount of bare leg sticking out of my cloak. "I will be protected."
I stared in what I hoped was a regal way – down my nose
After Fiona regally dispatched the guards with "we will not venture far, if that is your fear. Be sure to tell my Lord High King that we will return at sundown," it was smooth galloping from there.
Well, almost. There were some shouts of "Stop, my Ladies! You go too far!" and other such things, but these were largely lost to the wind of our passage. At least, that's what we told ourselves as we ignored them.
I must interject something here that will detract from the momentum of the story, but I don't care. It must be said, and now is as good a time as any other to say it:
I hate liars. I hate lying, theft, cheating…I hate it. I loathe it, and I am completely disgusted with anyone – including myself – who lies, cheats or steals.
So I bend the truth, look for every advantage, and borrow. Everything I've ever come up with to get Fiona and me out of a situation has had at least a smidgen of truth at its centre. It's not just an aversion to lying that stops me – I just can't do it. It's physically impossible for me to lie, which I think is completely the fault of my mother. I can bend the truth, use ambiguous words so that other people think I'm saying something else, but I will never lie.
Some of you may see this as a distinction without a difference, but…tiddly boogles to that, my friends, because this is how my mind works. We didn't lie to the guards – we were going out to inspect the ground for a plan. That inspection was quick, and was approved immediately by those whose plan it was, but that doesn't matter. We didn't steal the horses – we borrowed them, and we fully intended to put them back afterwards.
And now we can get on with the story.
We reigned up in front of the Black Gates and tried to catch our breath. The horses we'd swiped (borrowed) danced back and forth underneath us, this close the Gates, and I didn't really blame them. Even with the total absence of Orcs next to us, those Gates seemed vile. And to think Men, of all people, had built them!
There was no sign of anything. Just dead, black, empty land and those farkin' huge Gates. By now, I thought, someone would be running with all speed to the command pavilion, or to the practice fields, where we'd been expected. Maybe it was Elrond. Maybe it was the guard who'd tried to stop us at the front. Either way, we didn't have much time before the Elves were mobilized.
The horses picked up on our – honestly – thinly veiled fear. They pranced and reared up, and the only reason they hadn't spun in the direction of the camp and galloped away was because they seemed to be only slightly calmer with Elves upon their backs. Even if those Elves were more than a little human in their behaviour.
"Have I mentioned that what we're doing is entirely stupid?" I asked, glancing over at Fiona.
"Yes."
"Okay. Just making sure." A terrible sinking feeling filled my stomach. I wanted to see Glorfindel again. It only accented the feeling that we weren't going to get out of this alive, or unspoiled. Together, we turned back to the Gates.
"I still think you should have stayed behind," Fiona said as we looked up at the Gates.
"And let you have all the fun? Nah," I said. "Although, I still say we should have come up with a slightly different plan."
"Probably." No insistence of 'there's no other way'. I reached between our horses and grabbed her hand to give it a squeeze.
Minaimîr! Glorfy's voice sounded far away. I looked over my shoulder, but there was no sign of Minras galloping towards us. We still had time. Come back! Please, melyanna, come back!
I can't, I replied. I don't even know if he heard me. It was the mental equivalent of a whisper.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and ne'er brought to mind! " I sang. It was the first song that popped into my head, and it seemed to fit the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Whatever that other would be. I forced tears back behind my eyes. Auld Lang Syne is a simple tune, and an old one, and when it's sung well…and accompanied by bagpipes, but we didn't have any of those…it can be one of the most…bittersweet songs I know.
Fe looked sideways at me and shrugged. I was reaching for the clasp of my cloak. I chucked my cloak behind me and was going for my shirt when Fe joined in, singing as loud as she could.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne!" Her cloak joined mine.
This was part of the Plan, of course. Not the song, but the singing. Woo the Orcs with something beautiful, not just physically, but to the ears too. They wouldn't be able to stand it. Orcs hate beauty greatly, and without question.
"For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne! We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne!"
My chain mail undies were cold, in the wind that whipped down from the mountains of shadow. Fiona shivered, but didn't wrap her arms around herself, though I could tell that she wanted to. You would have too, if you stood before the Black Gates, an Elf Maiden, and dressed in two strips of gauzy fabric, some feathery stuff, and sequins. She'd chosen the most revealing of her 'odd undergarments'. Anything that would draw the Orcs out and open the Gates so that Gilly could get his armies in to Mordor.
Our song died away on the rocks. Nothing moved. No horns blew. Glorfy was getting frantic in the back of my head, but I didn't let myself take notice of him.
"We need to sing louder," Fiona said. "And something more beautiful." I nodded and resisted the urge to rest my hand on the sword that I'd left belted at my hip. We had to appear as vulnerable as we could.
Fiona began, singing the sweet words – in Latvian, of all languages – as loud as she could.
"Kas tie tädi, kas dzjedäja"Bez saulïtes vakarä?
"Tie ir visi bära bërni, Bargukungu klausïtäji".
She sang the verse through once before I joined in, adding harmony where I could. Our song echoed over the rocks, reverberated in the metal doors of the Gates…I don't want to blow my own horn, as it were, but we sounded pretty damn good. So good, in fact, that our Plan was working.
The sound of tortured metal filled the air. The ground shook, rumbling as the massive doors swung wide. Orcs lined up behind them, and poured squealing and screaming from the open aperture. A black tide, really, come to kill us, or, at least, rape us where we stood. I didn't draw my sword. Glorfy grew more insistent in my mind – and closer too. I didn't have to look behind us to know that he and a whole bloody lot of Elves and Men – the entire camp, really – were coming at us.
It was all I could do to keep singing and not draw my sword.
I don't think you'll find an account of this in any history that made it into The Silmarillion. Highly doubt it, really, because I've never heard any mention of it – not to mention, Elrond recording that it was the incredibly stupid plan of two hardly dressed and very young Elf maidens that got them through the Gates and into Mordor just seems…so not him.
I don't mind, really. At one point in my existence I would have insisted on the "Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth", but I've largely gotten over that part in my existence. History, in itself, is not full of stories of scantily clad females using their ingenuity to get entire armies of Elves into hostile territory. No one would believe it if the story was included, even if Fiona and I got out of it alive and had had a camcorder along to record the whole event, and an apparatus on which to watch the video afterwards. Because History doesn't record things that don't sound right. Because it's wrong. Or something.
Anyway, I waited until the last possible instant before I drew my sword, killed the Orc forerunners that made it to us first, and we swung the horses around and bolted with all haste towards the stampeding armies of the Alliance. There was no fierce battle's cry from us, this time, no screamed "BOOOOOOOOOOBINATOR!!!!" as we rushed the Orcs. The Orcs were doing the rushing, and we were doing the fleeing, and Glorfy and Gilly were going to be doing the killing the instant we got back to them.
Arrows from both sides whipped past our heads. Orcs and Elves and Men and horses alike dropped, screamed and died. The sounds had an odd Doppler effect as we galloped by. And then Fe wasn't beside me any more.
I pulled my horse up sharply and looked around. And spotted her on the ground, next to her stumbling mare, the white flank of which was now sporting a black fletched arrow.
"Fiona!" I yanked on the reigns, trying to get the horse I rode – another mare – to understand that we had to get to Fiona before the Orcs did. The line of evil bunyips wasn't that far away.
"Rhiannon!" Her red-gold hair was askew, her flimsy garments torn. Her horse tried valiantly to rise, but it was having trouble.
I used every swear word I knew. I reached her before the Orcs did, thankfully, but she was trying to save the horse.
"Come on!" I shouted, pulling my mare roughly to a stop. I tried not to look at the downed animal. The two charging armies were two walls of thunder, approaching much too quickly for my tastes. "We have to go!"
She glanced up briefly, and then looked back to the horse, and tried wadding a bit of her already flimsy garments around the arrow to help the animal. "The horse," she said. "I can't leave her!"
"You have to!" It broke my heart, seeing that animal trying to rise, eyes wild with pain. I forced tears back again. "There's no time!"
It is Fiona's curse that another's pain effects her so deeply, animal or human or Elf. Well, not really a curse, in that sense. Empathy, in itself, is not a curse. Except when a flood of gibbering Orcs is charging your way, and another army is coming the other way, and there's only two of you caught in the middle.
"I can't leave her to those Orcs!" she cried, and I saw tears in her eyes. I'd have been hopping from one foot to the other if I hadn't been on horseback. She put her hands on the animal's flank, and closed her eyes.
"Bloody hell!" I knew what she was doing. I wished that I didn't, but I knew what she was doing. She was healing the horse. "Bloody, bloody hell!" I pushed my horse around them, positioning myself between them and the Orcs, which were still getting closer. I only tore my gaze from them when Fiona's mare whinnied. When I turned, it had risen, and Fiona was clinging loosely to her back.
"Shit! Are you alright?"
She blinked owlishly and swayed. The Orcs were less than ten meters away. Arrows still flew overhead from both sides.
"Go!" she cried, and her horse leaped away. I had to skewer one or two of the faster Orcs before I could catch up, but catch up I did.
The armies of the Alliance parted as we approached, side by side as we had left. I could feel hope being rekindled as we continued our headlong gallop towards the relative safety of the camp.
And then something really nasty happened. Pain did a jig in iron shoes along my right arm. Warm wetness slid down my side. I sat up from the ground – hardly realizing that I'd fallen – wincing and gasping for air, and there was no sign of my horse, or of Fiona. My sword lay a couple of inches away, and I reached for it.
Bad mistake. When I could breathe again, I noted for the first time the cruel, barbed arrow point sticking out of my shoulder, and swore. And then grabbed my sword with my left hand.
God damn this armour! God damn the dumbass who made it! I should have put on the real stuff, not this friggin', useless skimpy bits that I'd found so fun all those days ago! But I had had to help Fiona lure the Orcs out, and they wouldn't have been so easy to lure if I'd been wearing full battle armour. And speaking of Orcs…
When I stood, there was one only two feet away, the head of the flood. I barely got the sword raised in time, but the Orc skewered itself on the blade and had the good grace to fall backwards. I ignored the pain in my arm and grabbed the hilt with my right hand. The sword, which had once seemed so wonderfully light and beautiful, felt like an iron bar. My right arm felt like a burning iron bar. I'd cut my legs somehow, likely in my fall from the mare's back, and the cuts stung. My head hurt, and my lungs hurt, and my feet hurt, and my side hurt and…I was not happy. Anger, I've found, is a hell of a lot better than fear, and it generally helps more than wetting oneself when the tide of battle overwhelms you. I wondered briefly where Fiona was, sent an instantaneous message of love to Glorfindel, and then went to work.
"Try to rape me, will you?" I shouted, though my voice was croaking. "Curse you for living, you bloody bunyips! Eru wipe you from the face of existence! Where is my bloody twin?"
With each question, I swung the sword, killed an Orc, and then went looking (not that I had to go far) for another. With each question, I let myself get angrier and angrier, and turned my despair into a hate that rivalled what that Man was getting when Elrond had had to settle that dispute. With each question, I grew more and more tried from an inner battle with helplessness and terror and the basic, instinctual need to stay alive.
Literary tradition would have me insert metaphors here about my will being 'forged in battle' with the 'hammer of war'. I suppose I could add in that my 'bellows were pumping rhythmically' and were 'fuelling the fire of my anger', 'heating the steel of my heart', 'casting the shape of my future thoughts', 'grinding my will to survive to a sharp edge', 'honing my senses'… I don't think there's one that mentions the 'burning charcoal of the Orc's blood' or whatever, because, frankly, that would be stupid. Orc blood is black, yes, and it does burn, but charcoal tends to go that pretty white-yellow colour when it's hot enough to use in a forge. Anyway, the puns and clichés could go on forever, so I won't use them. I'll just say that I was terribly pissed off and leave it at that, and let you try to come up with all the gory, disgusting details of what really goes on in a battle when you're cut off and alone. I don't want to talk about it any more.
So I won't.
Glorfy got me out, of course. There's a certain wonderful predictability to that. I saw him coming this time – again on Minras – and felt him coming closer though our mind-link. But I didn't really jump for joy when I saw him cut his way though Orcs and smelly men (not on our side) to get to where I was hovering around the brink of complete emotionless-ness. I was too busy killing things and trying to stay alive to take any real notice of what was happening elsewhere.
And then, there weren't any more Orcs. Gildor had appeared with Glorfindel and began driving those around us back into the melee. Another Elf – whom I vaguely recognized as the frontline guard who'd tried to stop us earlier, lifted me bodily up onto Minras' back and into Glorfy's arms.
There was another arrow sticking out of my left leg that I hadn't even noticed, although I vaguely remembered getting really pissed off at the Orc who'd shot me and killing it. I was covered in Orc blood, covered in my own blood…it was not the most beautiful of Elf-maidens that was brought before the High King, King Elendil and some other Generals.
Fiona was there. With a cloak on, over top of that torn little bit of fabric that she'd used to entice the Orcs out of Mordor, but she was there. Looking a lot better than I felt, although as though she really wanted to sleep. Her mare stood at her shoulder, and occasionally bent her head back around to nuzzle Fiona. Fiona, I realized, was leaning heavily on the horse.
"Rhiannon!" she breathed when she saw me and – I guessed – realized it was actually me.
"Hey," I whispered and tried to smile. It was more of a grimace, really. "Still alive?"
"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried," she answered.
"Good. Same here." I performed my patented half-fall-partial-dismount until Glorfy caught me and lifted me the rest of the way down from Minras. I nearly swooned from the jolt putting my leg on the ground caused, but I shook it off and hobbled on my one good leg over to where Fiona stood. "You're not wounded," I said wryly, looking her over. "That's entirely unfair."
"And entirely fortunate," Gilly put in, "though I do not think others present see it that way." He cast a particularly frank look towards Glorfy, who quite obviously bit back harsh words. I know this, because the harsh words appeared in my mind. I shan't repeat them, because they're not in the slightest polite. I noticed that Gilly was back in King Mode – and radiating anger.
That was the last thing I noticed for a while. I dimly realized that people were talking about things, but that was about it. I figured at the time it would all sink in later, when I wasn't so numb. I just wanted to sleep, or for someone to give me a painkiller to two that would knock me out so they could get these friggin' arrows out of me. The ground became interesting as the seconds got slower, and slower and slower…I thought I felt something brush the back of my neck, and a horse whickered, and…
I wondered why they hadn't gotten the arrows out of me.
I wondered why Orcs had felt it necessary to come out in such large numbers after two scantily clad Elf-maidens.
I wondered where the hell Glorfy was, and why I couldn't hear him in my mind.
I wondered if the scrubby grass beneath us was as comfortable as it looked.
And then I wondered why no one was catching me as I fell…
"Rhiannon!"
I don't know how much time had gone by until my name echoed off the insides of my head via my ears.
Minaimîr!
"Wzzfuglfl?" I swear – that's what I really said.
"She's coming around," someone whispered excitedly. "Rhiannon! Can you hear me?"
I looked around. Or, really, tried to look around. I realized, when I tried to move, that something was holding me down, and it was heavy. It was dark, and something smelled really, really bad.
"Mum?" It'd been a while since I'd seen my mum. But then I realized that the voice didn't sound like mum at all.
"Rhiannon, wake up!"
"But school doesn't start 'till eleven today! Bugger off, David, I'm not passing you the cornflakes when you've already had two bowls!"
"What does she speak of?" someone asked.
"Her youngest brother. Rhiannon!"
"I'm awake, I'm awake." Higher brain functions and consciousness was returning. "What's that smell?" I tried to move again. I couldn't feel my right arm or my left leg. However, I could – and didn't want to – feel several cuts, bruises, gashes, scrapes, and muscle cramps all over several other spots on my body. It occurred to me after a few moments that it was dark because my eyes were closed, so I opened them.
Glorfindel and Fiona were leaning over me, two pairs of blue eyes watching worriedly. They visibly relaxed when they realized I was awake and slightly more coherent.
It was not sky above them, but the canvas of a tent. It was not an Orc that held me pinned to the ground (as I had suspected because of the smell) but several layers of blankets, which just goes to show you how weak I was. I tried to move the toes on my left leg and was rewarded by my nerve endings firing. I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to swear profusely. I just swore a little.
"Did it work?" I asked, when I could open my eyes again.
Words burst out of Glorfy in Elvish, which I guessed to be both curses and words of endearment (I caught the words 'meleth' and 'melyanna' more than once…they're the only two I really know) by the flickering expressions that danced across his face, as though he couldn't decide whether to be angry or relieved or…whatever. I was further confused by the brushings of the mind he was sending me, and images and thoughts and…I blinked at the sensory overload.
"'Did it work'?" he finally exclaimed in a language I could immediately understand. He looked across me to Fiona. "She risks her life, is struck by two arrows, a sword and the blunt end of a javelin, narrowly misses being decapitated by an errant axe and wonders if the harebrained plot that got her into that mess to start with worked?"
"Apparently," Fiona replied levelly. "Yes," she continued, looking back down at me. "It worked. Gil-galad took the gate, and we can hold it. We're breaking camp soon to begin the long march to Barad-dûr."
"Bloody hell," I breathed. I tried to think of what else I needed to know. "Are you two okay?" I asked. I knew she hadn't been wounded, but that wasn't what I was asking.
"Aside from a little exhaustion, I'm fine," Fiona said. "And aside from an extreme case of the jitters, Glorfy's fine too. Although, I've acquired a personal guard."
"What?" There were a few vague memories concerning my getting out of the battle and what happened immediately thereafter.
"You collapsed before this, but Ereinion assigned a permanent guard to me. I'm not allowed to go anywhere without her, and we have to tell either her Glorfy, Elrond or Ereinion exactly what we're doing, where, why, and for how long."
I said nothing, and blinked. "Pardon?" I said after a minute. Yeah bloody right was what I wanted to say, but didn't. Except Glorfy heard me.
Melyanna, he said warningly. But Fiona was speaking again.
"Berialagor," Fiona said, indicating someone over in the corner of the tent. I thought about moving my head, but didn't have to as the Elf-maiden came into view.
"Bloody fark," I breathed. "So there are other females in the camp."
The Elf maiden blushed slightly. "I have been assigned to watch your sister's back," she said. "A most unexpected honour."
I raised one eyebrow, wondering how anyone could think having to put up with Fiona and I could possibly be considered an honour. Especially with the plans we've been known to come up with…
It is an honour to even be allowed to look upon you, my fairest, Glorfindel said in my mind. I smiled up at him.
Well, when you put it that way, I answered.
"Ereinion and I are getting married next week," Fiona said quietly, as though dropping such a bombshell in the middle of a conversation wouldn't have the immediate effect of me squealing, rocketing up out of my bed with strength I didn't know I had and wrapping her in a hug so tight it wasn't until the pain receptors in my right arm shut down that I realized she couldn't breathe.
"Oh my bloody sweet Jebebus on a crutch!" I hardly felt the blanket that Glorfy draped over my shoulders, and didn't really realize why he'd done so. Until…
"Rhiannon?"
"Yes?"
"You do realize that you're naked, right?"
"Oh." I slumped back down, but not in a desperate attempt to cover my nudity. More that I'd also just realized that I hurt really badly in several different places at once. "Ow." The word hardly seemed accurate.
"Well," I said a tad sarcastically once I'd laid back down again, and the pain had subsided. "After the battle, I vaguely recall wondering why I was standing and being talked at with two arrows sticking out of me, and then I think I fell over. That's about all I want to remember at the moment. Was there anything else?"
"I've acquired a horse," Fiona said, a little sheepishly. "The mare I rode – when I healed her, I…gave her some of my life's energy, or something. And now, I can…it's not like my bond with Ereinion – I can't read her thoughts, but I can feel her emotions."
"Fark!" I envied her. I've always wanted such a bond with a horse. "What about mine?"
"The mare you rode, Minaimîr, made it safely back to camp though not with you on her back." Glorfy was currently grinning, though his thoughts carried dire warnings if I ever considered pulling such a stunt again. "She is penned now with the other horses."
I closed my eyes. Horses have no place in the wars of the slightly more sentient races, though I'm exceedingly glad that I had one during the battle. She bore me until I fell off. I remained silent for a while, letting my eyes rest and the flashes of light behind them return to normal.
"You're getting married," I breathed and I could feel the blush on Fiona's cheeks. "Bloody hell. Bloody hell!" I fell silent, and no one said anything. "How long have I been out?" I asked after a while. I opened my eyes and looked from one to the other. "And what the bloody hell is that smell?"
"The smell is Elrond's medicine," Fiona said with a bit of a smile. "You've got a dozen different poultices pasted all over your body, the biggest ones on your shoulder and your leg, where the Orc arrows got you, although he didn't bind those wounds until he'd removed the poison."
"Poison?" I exclaimed. "I was bloody poisoned?"
"Orc blades and arrows often carry poison that is quick to stop the heart," Glorfy said softly. "It is well Gildor and I reached you so quickly, or Elrond would have not been able to save you, even if he'd given his life for yours."
"He wouldn't do that," I whispered. "He's still needed." And that still didn't explain why they took so friggin' long to get those bloody arrows out of me.
Fiona was giving me warning looks about continuing to make cryptic remarks about the future of Middle-earth, so I didn't answer Glorfy when he asked me what I meant.
"And?" I prompted Fiona, trying to ignore Glorfindel's insistent questions that continued where no other could hear.
"As for how long you've been out…well…"
"Too long," Glorfy interjected. "Much too long. So close you came this time, melyanna, to passing to the Halls. So close! I could not have borne it if you had crossed, had left me to this world alone with naught to look forward to but emptiness."
I stared at him. There was nothing I could say to that.
"But she's alive," Fiona said, and Glorfy nodded, looking at me gravely.
"She is that," he said. His hand smoothed my hair back out of my face.
"So then it's okay if I hurt now?"
"Aye, Minaimîr, because you won't be going anywhere until you're better, and then only to Minas Ithil! I won't have you running off to battle at every chance –"
"What?" I put in, wincing at the headache that sprang to life. "Glorfy, we got you into Mordor for crying out loud! You and your king and practically everyone in this bloody army is convinced Fe and I were sent by the Valar to turn the tides of this Battle, allies against Sauron that will make sure his ass is kicked and stays that way! We can't do that if we're not here!"
Glorfy started swearing in Elvish again and looked away. I couldn't even begin to decipher the thoughts and emotions I could feel from him. He seemed torn between wanting to keep me safe, and wanting to accept the help of the Valar.
But do I believe Fiona and I are Valar-sent? It's an explanation, of course, and the only one we've so far been able to come up with, but there's no proof of that either way. There was just the truck, then the tunnel, then the field and Dúmassë. One would think that the nearest thing to gods that the Elves had would have…well, told us, given us a sign… You know, typical miracle stuff. Of course, the fact that they didn't could just be the whole point.
You said you would keep out of the battles, his thoughts came, wounded and hurting, though his outward appearance was one of cool anger.
Unless you or Fiona needed me, I replied as gently as I could. Fiona needed me. She wanted me to stay, but it was my choice to not let my little sister go unprotected to the Gates. If I hadn't been there… I let that thought sink in, in both our minds.
If you had not gone, you would not be wounded now.
"And Fiona would be dead!" It took me a moment to realize that I'd yelled that out loud. Fiona's eyebrows went up, and she vanished from my side.
"I'll just wait outside, okay?" she whispered. I heard the tent flaps move aside and then fall back into place as Fiona and Berialagor slipped outside. No sooner than it had fallen back into place, Glorfindel was lying by my side. He leaned over me, his golden hair pulled back in some sort of complicated braid, and smoothed my blankets, very carefully avoiding my eyes.
I pulled my left arm out from under the blankets and put my hand under his chin.
It is no crime to be selfish, I said, pulling his face towards mine. I know you wish that I'd stayed behind, but I couldn't have done that. I'm not going to think on what could have happened, when what did happen has happened and I'm still alive.
He looked up and met my eyes, then. There was fear in them, and it chilled me right to my aching feet.
I would have passed, melyanna, he said. I would have faded away and passed had you not come out of this alive. If, Valar forbid, you do not come out of this alive, I will not long survive you.
I closed my eyes. How could I deal with this? How can I do anything now with the knowledge that my beautiful Elf will not continue if I die? What if, in the seven or so years to come, there is a time when both Fiona and Glorfindel need me? What do I do?
And then the answer hit me, but not nearly so hard as the butt end of a javelin. I do what I can. And what I can do now is stop worrying about what might be, and concentrate on now.
I opened my eyes. And everything was new.