A/N: Hey! Well, it's time for another chapter…Finally…I won't make excuses, since you already know why it takes so damned long for us to update…stuff we wish we could avoid, but can't. Sucks, but it's true.
Anyway! Because we know you guys get ridiculously bored in between chapters, Lór and I have come up with a plan – art work! Whee!
Yes, you read that right. Art work! Basically, we want to see your conceptualization of Rhiannon and Fiona, Glorfy and Gilly, Gildor and Elrond etc. We've even started an account on Deviant Art just for the drawings! It's currently empty because, while both Lór and I draw, we get all funny about showing it to other people. So…we'll show you ours if you show us yours…and if you already have an account on some art gallery-esque website, even better! Send us the link and we'll add you to the favourites! All styles are accepted, obviously : ) And, just as obviously, all that fun copyright stuff that usually goes, goes. We aren't going to snark anyone's art if it's not ours, and nor will we post anything if we know for a fact that someone else did it…all that.
So, if you have the inclination or talent (or both ; ), send us your drawings and we'll put them up…or put them up and let us know they exist…either way, it's something to do while you're waiting for the story to progress. Hee hee hee…
And now, speaking of the story…onwards…
Okay. Dying and being sent to Middle-earth aside, I still can't really believe that I'm the one doing all the lightning effects on the battlefield. It's a little difficult to take, but at the same time, the coincidences are…well, there's too many of them. For instance, just the other day, I was seriously frustrated because I couldn't get to an area where there was fighting fast enough; thunder rolled out of nowhere, and the next thing I know, there's lightning striking amongst the fighting Orcs.
It wasn't so much that – storms happen in mountains, and especially around fallen Maiar (like Sauron). It was the warm fuzziness I described before. I can feel it move around, feel it reaching for something, sometimes, just before the lightning strikes down. It scares the Jebebus right out of me, mostly because I can't explain why it seems that I'm responsible for it. I even caught Elrond giving me considering looks after I saved his behind the other day. Six Orcs had penned him in; I pointed my sword at them, ready to charge, and they suddenly jerked on their feet and collapsed, smelling of burnt flesh. It's just so goddamn…confusing. I didn't have time to stick around, so I nodded at him and took off, but not before he gave me that considering look of his.
Sometimes, though, I try to make the fuzziness move and it doesn't, and I have to kill Orcs the hard way. When this happens, I'm left wondering whether or not I'm delusional or if I'm actually doing this myself. The implications of it...and where the hell did this ability come from? Is it actually proof that my sister and I are gifts to the Alliance from the Valar?
No time to get philosophical, though. I think I should save that until after the War's over.
To add to my frustration in the whole matter, though, there's the…other matter that I'm forbidden to even mention. That problem is…scary in a whole different way, and that's all I can say on the matter less the wrong sort…well, you know. In fact, even this brief paragraph might constitute treason. It's just so...argh!
I don't know how to react. Jealousy, of a sort. The eldest sister should experience things first – it's the natural progression of things. I'm happy, but terrified all the same. What if something goes wrong? We're so far away from anything even resembling a hospital...
Hah. Now I start worrying about hospitals. I didn't even worry about hospitals when I had two arrows sticking out of me and a dozen other cuts besides. But then, I didn't have to be worried about someone other than myself...Okay, I did, but the point of the matter is, then I was more worried about keeping the Orcs away from Fiona than I was about my immediate health.
And now...
I woke up this morning with my head in a bucket. I'm not entirely sure how I even made it to the bucket, but I didn't become fully aware of what was going on until the remnants of last night's supper and all the stomach fluid in the world was burning the back of my throat and making my teeth feel chalky, and…
Blech. You've all had a good puke, I'm sure. I shan't describe it any more.
Minaimîr? Glorfy had waited until I was done before distracting me. Now he crouched at my side with several cloths and a cup of water. I love my Elf. What's the matter?
Something I ate, my lovely, I responded. Or a stomach bug. Maybe I didn't boil the water properly.
Our water supply is limited to three sources: rainwater, which tasted like acid; stream water, which takes a lot of work to make pure and still tastes foul after all that; and barrelled water shipped in from outside with every supply cart. This water is the most precious commodity that the camp has, is in high demand, and still needs to be boiled before it is drunk.
Kinda makes you wonder why they brought the big tub this far into Mordor. Not that I'm complaining, but still…
I boiled the water yesternight, Glorfy replied with a shake of his head. And I boiled it very thoroughly. "Perhaps it is this stomach bug that you mentioned."
"I hope so." I don't know why we returned to the spoken word. We hardly ever used it anymore, when it was just the two of us.
"I will send for Elrond," my husband said a moment later, watching me carefully.
"Nah, don't worry about it." I grimaced, not liking the taste on the inside of my mouth and wishing fervently for some mouthwash. "It was probably a one time thing. And it's not like I have anything left in my belly anyway."
"Melyanna…" he left the rest of the sentence unspoken.
"I know, I know." I shook my head. I sipped at the cup of water, and realized that it was not water, but some Elvish drink that soothed the stomach and the soul. I'd tasted this once or twice before, after a particularly rough battle or two, when Glorfy would give it to me to steady shaken nerves. It is in even more limited supply than the barrelled water, and tastes like liquid sunlight. If that makes any sense. "That's better," I said and sighed. This stuff always leaves me feeling contented.
I crawled back towards the bed and flopped myself down on it. "I think I might rest a bit before I get up," I murmured, my eyes already closing.
Rest, my darling, Glorfy whispered into my mind. I will wake you at midday, if you haven't woken before then.
I was too sleepy to reply. So sleepy, in fact, that I didn't even hear him leave our tent…
When I woke up again, my stomach felt…jangly. I know that's not really a word, but it's the only word I can think up for how my stomach felt. Something was…different. I checked for the warm fuzziness I've felt ever since getting struck by lightening…that was fine, if no less confusing. I felt my forehead for a fever – no fever. But something wasn't entirely in place, and the fact that I couldn't think of what it was bothered me even more.
I don't know what's worse; the fact that I couldn't accurately pinpoint the cause of my discomfort, or the fact that I could smell the dining tent from where I was. Stew again, by the smell of it. Probably beef. Which means the supply train's come in, since keeping this army fed takes a lot of effort, let me tell you. Cattle arrive with the supply train, and within a day, we've got beef. Not a process I want to think about...
Whatever it was, my stomach growled loudly, demanding sustenance. As well it should! This is what it gets for waking me up so distastefully this morning. I poked myself in the stomach, and muttered "Hah!" to myself. It's not as satisfying as one might think. In fact, the act of it made me feel rather silly.
I was startled out of my thoughts by the arrival of someone in the outer portion of the tent. I stuck my head around the partition, and fixed a suspicious eye on…Elrond. Glorfy was just letting go of the flap to the outside. They both stopped when they saw my head and shoulders sticking out from around the partition, and had the decency to look mildly guilty.
"I'm fine," I said before either of them could say a word. "Really. My stomach's fine."
"Minaimîr," Glorfy began, "vomiting can be a sign of many things. In this land I will not take the chance of you contracting an unknown illness. Especially since you've started..."
"Well, it hasn't happened since and it's not going to happen any time soon, so I think it's better to wait," I replied quickly. Perhaps I was being snippy, but I was unaccountably annoyed with Glorfy for fetching Elrond after I'd said it was okay not to. And for mentioning the fuzziness around Elrond. It's not that I'm keeping secrets...not really. It's just that I didn't want Elrond to know...yet.
I came out from around the partition, glad for the robe that I'd thrown on over my usual pyjamas (a.k.a. my birthday suit). "I'm sorry you came all the way over here for nothing, Elrond. Would you like some tea?" I gestured to the pot and cups off to one side.
Elrond nodded his assent and I moved to make the tea.
"Oh blast! The water's cold." I put the pot back down, feeling somewhat foolish. I turned in time to catch the shared look between Glorfy and Elrond, and then chose to ignore it. I grabbed the pot and headed for the front door. "I'll just put this over the fire, shall I?" I said as I passed them…
…and then Elrond's hand shot out and grabbed me by the chin. Intellectually I knew that he took me by surprise because I was being stubborn and refusing to be examined. But a few months of sword training – and practical experience in battle – had sharpened my Elvish reflexes, though not so much with the controlling of them. Elrond was lucky that Glorfindel grabbed the kettle before it could hit him, but he was not so lucky in other ways.
The warm fuzziness about my solar plexus suddenly shot down my left arm, jolted out of my extended fingers and arced across the distance between Elrond and I. Blue white sparks danced across his armour, and Elrond jerked, a horrible expression on his face. He dropped like a bag of rocks, and I went down on my knees next to him.
I gradually became aware of someone swearing profusely, and then realized it was I, and shut up. Bits and pieces of Elrond's hair stood up out of its braid, totally frizzed. For a long moment, I was absolutely terrified that I'd killed him, knowledge of the future or no. And then he blinked and shook his head and glanced up at me ruefully.
"Given your displays during that last skirmish," he said wryly, "I think, perhaps, I should have expected that."
"Elrond, I am so sorry," I said, close to tears. I could have killed him! "I didn't mean to…bloody hell! I was just a reflex! I didn't even…I mean, I didn't want to hurt you; I'd never hurt you. You're my friend – I hope – and I couldn't hurt my friend! I don't know what I would have done if I'd…I'm so sorry!" I continued to ramble on, apologizing profusely despite Elrond's protestations that he was alright, and Glorfindel's attempts to get a word in edgewise, until…
"Rhiannon!"
That stopped me cold. I turned, half expecting to see Fiona or someone else who might still call me by that name, but there was no one there except my husband.
"What did you call me?" I stared at Glorfy. He's only ever uttered my name once before – well, 'Minaimîr' is as much my name now as 'Rhiannon' ever was, but still – to hear my real name on his lips took me by complete surprise.
Take hold of your senses, my love, Glorfy admonished gently on our private circuit. Elrond is unhurt, but he needs rest. Help me move him to our bed.
I nodded, not bothering to answer either silently or aloud. I still found myself crying, with shame and with shock, as I slipped an arm under Elrond's shoulders and heaved. Glorfy did most of the helping because he's the same height as Elrond. At my height, helping a seven-foot tall Elf walk is a little difficult. I've done it once or twice before, helping Glorfy himself, and then later helping wounded comrades off the battlefield. Height is definitely advantage in an instance such as this.
To make myself more useful, I grabbed the kettle from where my husband had dropped it and darted out, startling our guards. I pushed the kettle at them and told them to fetch some hot water, preferably now.
"And see if Fiona is free," I added.
"My Lady?" The guard looked confused, and I don't blame him. I have to remind myself, sometimes, that not everyone in this camp refers to my sister as I do.
"The Queen. See if the Queen's busy, and if she isn't, tell her that her sister needs to talk."
"Yes, my Lady."
I turned to go back inside. "On second thought," I said, loud enough that the guard walking away could hear me. He stopped and looked back. "Just tell her that I'll come and find her when I'm done with…in a while. Okay?"
"Of course, my Lady."
When I got back into the tent, Glorfy had Elrond stretched out on our bed. I approached timidly, not sure if I should even touch anything or if Elrond would even want to look at me. My husband had peeled off Elrond's armour, chain mail and under tunic, and was inspecting Elrond's chest for burns. Thankfully, there were only small burns, where the metal had contacted his skin, and none of them were particularly serious.
"How's his heartbeat?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer. The two Elves looked up at me, as if surprised to see me back so soon. "I sent one of the guards for tea," I added.
Glorfy nodded, and then said, "As far as I can tell, Elrond is unharmed."
"Thank all things holy," I breathed, and sank to the floor where I was. There was a rock poking through the layers of rugs, and it dug into my arse, but I didn't move. My muscles felt all watery, and the jangly feeling from earlier caught up with me. I'd forgotten about it.
"Indeed, my Lady Minaimîr, I am unharmed." I looked up and found Elrond regarding me seriously with his stormy grey eyes. "But I must ask you to never do that to me again." And then he smiled. He actually smiled; a full out, no holding back, smile. It made him look almost my age.
"I promise," I whispered, and found tears in my eyes again. I smiled to show that I really wasn't all that up set, but then the jangly feeling got particularly strong and my eyes widened, and then I was scrambling across the floor to the replacement bucket…
I shan't describe the next few minutes to you, since you already know what it's like. I just wish I'd had something in my stomach to expunge.
Elrond left sometime later. He hadn't felt up to examining me just then, on account of me nearly electrocuting him with my newly acquired super-powers. Bloody hell…if I start being able to control the weather as well, I'm going to have to get people to start calling me 'Storm'. And, because I'm not in my reality any more, Marvel can't sue me for copyright infringement. Hah!
Even so, Elrond prescribed rest, a light diet, and a shot more of that liquid sunlight, for both of us. I was more than happy to comply…after I'd talked to Fiona. The guard had come back and told me that the Queen was not busy, and could be found with the King in the Command Pavilion. I threw on some clothes and headed there, Glorfy looking concernedly at me the whole time I was dressing.
"I'll be fine," I said, pausing at the exit flap to turn back to him.
Are you sure? He asked me in my mind.
Yes, my darling. I am sure. I smiled at him. I won't be gone long. I gave him a kiss and slipped out the door.
The sun was up, but the thick cloud cover in this part of Mordor did not let a lot of its light though. Well, visible light, anyway. Plenty of UV light got through, giving all the colours a sort of washed-out look and set a vaguely blue glow over everything. People usually think I'm nuts when I try to explain to them that I can see UV light. Not the entire UV spectrum, by any means! Oh no. Just the lowest of the low-frequency UV rays, and even then there's just a blue-violet glow to things and I get a nasty headache behind my eyes. I'm not the only one though…apparently, ten percent of the world's population can see it too. At least in my old time, anyway.
That headache hit me right when I left the tent. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and tried to ignore it. My stomach had finally quieted and I didn't want a headache to make it worse. Muttering about bloody clouds and bloody headaches, I headed off to the Command Pavilion in search of my twin.
It didn't take long to get there, and I spotted Fiona immediately, sitting off to one side at her own desk and writing in the thick book that I knew to be her journal. I meandered through the pavilion, nodded and waved at Gilly when he looked up and saw me, and then at a couple of others that I recognized. I even spotted Thranduil. I'd been introduced to him at Fe's wedding ceremony, and hadn't seen much of him since.
He's an all right guy. A little stuffy, but then, all told, he has reason to be. I've been dying to know if Legolas has been born yet, but I'm too nervous to ask him. I don't know how he would handle it.
Fiona looked up as I approached. Berialagor was standing off to the side and behind her, looking for all the world as though she wasn't paying attention to anything, though I knew for a fact that she was as alert as ever.
"Hey!" Fiona said. "I was beginning to get worried. A guard showed up and said something about you coming to speak with me in a moment…and that was nearly an hour ago. Any longer and I would have come looking myself. What's up?"
I shrugged. "Oh, a little of everything. Got time for a walk?"
"Of course," she said, and rose from her desk. Gil-galad looked over when she stood; she must have sent him a mind-message, because he only smiled and went back to whatever it was he had been doing. Berialagor fell in behind us as we walked, silent as a shadow.
I waited until we were some distance from everyone before I began my tale. I told her about waking up with my head in a bucket, about Elrond – everything. The incident with Elrond needed some explaining though.
"Wait…what do you mean you electrocuted him?" Fiona asked, giving me the oddest look.
I frowned. "You mean I didn't tell you about the fuzziness?" I asked, perhaps the most cryptic question I've ever uttered. I shook my head. "Sorry; not trying to keep secrets or anything, I just forgot that I hadn't told you." My reluctance to tell Elrond is one thing…Fiona's my twin! I'd wanted to tell her earlier, just hadn't found the way to do it. And then I forgot and assumed that she knew. I do that far too often, it seems.
So I explained about 'the fuzziness'. About how everything goes 'twing!' whenever lightning strikes, and about how the fuzziness moves, and how that ended up with me zapping Elrond when he'd startled me.
"Whatever have you been smoking?" She asked when I was through. She was making a face at me.
"Why, want to share?" I shot back with a grin. "I swear: I'm not making this up. I think it's something like you and your visions."
She nodded, though slowly. "Maybe. I don't really get where those things came from either."
"Maybe it's the Valar," I suggested.
She shrugged. "Could be. I can't think of anything else."
"Maybe..." I stopped and glanced at her. I couldn't say it. I can't even hint. Even so, she understood.
"I don't think so," she said. "Besides; it explains some of the rumors I'd heard from some of the men, about you and your strange talent to make Orcs explode. They consider it lucky."
I grimaced. "That's a bit of a relief," I said. Even though I don't think that I've actually exploded any Orcs. Just somehow managed to kill them from a distance. Well…actually, there was that one time…never mind. But at least the soldiers weren't going to crucify me for being different.
"How's your stomach feeling?" she asked me after a bit.
"It's alright, I suppose. It's just…"
"What?"
"Something's not quite right, and I can't put my finger on it." I put my hand on my belly. "There's…something…"
Fiona's eyes widened a little.
"I think I know what you mean," she said slowly. She looked around her and, seeing that there was no one except Berialagor, leaned close to me. She whispered in my ear what she thought was causing the strangeness I was feeling, and I'd be damned if I didn't have to sit down.
Bloody hell.
I can't be.
But, damnit, a woman knows!
I must be…goddamnit!
A Woman Knows, Fiona said. I know.
'Woman' – bloody hell! This means I have to grow up. No more stupid risks. No more stupid nonsense. No travelling. No exerting myself. No putting myself in harms way – so no more battles at Glorfy's side. Of all the STUPID dumbass things to go and do in the middle of a war zone! Sonovabitch! And, yet again, I can't tell anyone. It'd be far too dangerous if the wrong people knew...I could become leverage against the Alliance. Not something I want to have happen, especially with what it would mean for me and…
No wonder I woke up with my head in a bucket!
How am I going to handle this? How am I going to deal with this? This thing in my belly, this parasite, is my…child…
I'd considered kids when I got married. You kinda have to. I'd always left having kids for later…budgeted the first one for that time, years down the road, when the war was over and I'd be living wherever the hell I'd be living, with Glorfy and Fiona and Gilly along for the ride. And we would have travelled, and hung out in Lothlórien, and gone to Rivendell for a time, and…
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down and think rationally. How long had it been since my 'horny week'? Did it really matter? The 'horny week' worked, if indeed I am…pregnant…it did what it was biologically meant to do. If I understand what Elrond was telling me, this week was the only time that...holy crap. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
This isn't the end of my life. I have not doomed the Alliance to a failed war by getting 'caught'. I am an adult – a married woman – and I can handle this!
"Don't tell anyone," I told Fiona. "They'll find out soon enough. I don't want them thinking I went and did this to get out of any work around here." I tried to smile, but my face wasn't working properly. She acknowledged my request with a nod.
"Are you alright?" she asked in return.
"I'm fine," I said. "Believe me; part of me is absolutely overjoyed, it's the rest of me that's screaming to get away. It's just that these sorts of things always happen to other people," I finished lamely. Next thing I knew, I was being wrapped in a huge hug.
Fiona didn't say anything, but I knew what she was trying to convey. Everything was going to be just fine – and if it didn't turn out that way, then we'd work through it together as sisters.
We stood like that in the middle of the camp for some time, Berialagor watching our backs. There was no one else around in this part of the camp, something I was exceedingly thankful for. After a bit, we pulled away and dried our tears, and I found myself wishing that I could have kept it together as well as my twin did when she found out…
"What are you going to do when Elrond gets better and comes back for the examination?"
"Lie," I said unashamedly. "Well, bend the truth, at least," I added after I caught my sister's look. "You of all people know why it's essential to not let on," I said in my own defence. "I know I despise liars, but if protecting this secret means protecting both me and my unborn child, then goddamnit, I am going to lie my guts out!" I was particularly proud that I managed to keep my voice low. No one heard me on the far side of the camp, and where we were standing there was absolutely no chance for spies.
"And Glorfindel?" Fiona asked. "How are you going to keep all of this from him?"
"I don't know," I said with a sigh. "I really don't want to. The overjoyed part of me wants to run screaming through the camp to tell him the news. Not only that, but he deserves to know, since it's his damn fault I'm in this mess." I grinned to show that I was not serious about that last remark, and found that smiling was getting easier.
Unborn child, I thought to myself, deliberately keeping the thought private. Oh bloody hell. I'm scared shitless. But I can't worry about that right now. I can't worry about whether or not I'll end up leverage against the people I care about, and I can't worry about whether or not my new-found super-powers are going to affect the life within me.
Life within…that's what I'd sensed earlier, that I couldn't put a finger on. There was life within me. I'd always heard that some women claimed to know the exact instant of conception. Having previously no way to test their claims, I was unprepared for the actual sensation of it. It was a little awe-inspiring. Now if only I wasn't so mixed up about everything...
Fiona and I chatted a little while longer. We changed the subject as we got closer to actual people again, trying desperately to look cheerful and as though we weren't talking about anything hideously important. We smiled at soldiers we passed and they often bowed at us. At some point we were joined by some more of Fiona's guard, the hot twins amongst them.
"I think I could do with another shot of Liquid Sunshine," I joked a while later. Too bad I'd already had more than my fair share today. I likely wouldn't taste it again until after the war.
"Don't you go and get addicted to the stuff," Fiona admonished.
"I won't, I won't."
Melyanna? Glorfindel's thought reached me, and I knew he was anxious to talk to me.
Yes?
You're upset. What is the matter?
I tried to convey that I was alright, that I was out talking with Fiona and we were having as good a time in a war camp as can be had without paying for it. It seemed to work.
I'll be home soon, I sent back. He left my head with feelings of love, and I smiled to myself.
"Glorfindel?" Fiona asked when I came out of it. Apparently, my whole face goes blank when I'm talking in my head to someone on the other side of the camp.
"Yeah. I'd better be getting back to my tent. You alright to walk back to the pavilion?"
"I've got my honour guard," Fiona said with a wave. "Meet you for supper?"
"Of course. Nothing short of dying could stop me."
"Great."
We gave each other another huge hug and went our separate ways.
The days have gone by so quickly that I've barely had time to write. Not much has else has happened that would indicate, one way or the other, whether or not I actually am…ahem. The sense of life within is still there...it seems I can't put it out of my awareness. I'm not even sure that I want to.
Anyway, it's been about two weeks since the last time I wrote, and not too much has happened. After my near-miss, when I nearly electrocuted Elrond, both Glorfy and I decided to see if I couldn't learn how to control my new abilities. Especially now that my apparent displays of light effects have petered out…even when I want it to, the fuzziness (as I call it) sometimes won't even respond. It's not helping my sanity any. Am I actually the one…of course I am. That's a silly line of thought. Just look at what happened to Elrond when he startled me! It's just the hormones thinking for me.
So…yeah. I'm going to try some of those old meditation techniques that I've messed about with in the past…see if that works. I really hope that it does, since I would hate to blow up something that would be useful for us. Or someone that I care about…
Good lord…I'm going to be one of those emotional pregnant women, I just know it. Damnit! Why couldn't nature just wait?
I still haven't told Glorfy. How the hell am I going to tell him?
Control! I've worked it out.
Sorry…it's been another week or so since I wrote, and I know randomly saying things like that is doing nothing for the story continuity here. But, honestly, what can you really expect? Battle after battle after battle…and each one worse than the last. And they just go on, and on and on…
Ahem. The meditation thing worked. It was weird – back when I was alive, I could never get it to work properly. I'd always just end up falling asleep, or feeling numb in the legs for a while because I was cramped or had pinched a nerve. But this time…maybe all the sword practice and the concentration I have to put into that helps. The first time it worked though…startled the crap right out of me.
Glorfy was off doing whatever the hell he does during the day. For once there was no battle, but that didn't mean I had time to write anything down. I still have that job with the Quartermaster, however much I hate data entry. That, and actually fighting stuff, takes up a lot of time, let me tell you. Even so…
Narwanar let Fe and I go for a long break. We'd been trying to decipher a cipher from…somewhere, and pass the translation on to Gilly, but we had gotten so frustrated with it that we were ordered off to have a break. After grabbing a snack together, Fiona wondered off in search of her husband, or sleep, whichever she found first. Normally I would have done the same, but I was anxious to try learning how to control this damned ability I've seemed to have picked up out of nowhere. So I wondered off to my own tent, and was glad that no one was there when I arrived.
I sat down in the middle of the pile of cushions and blankets that constitutes my bed, unbound my hair, loosened the ties on my shirt...and then thought better of it, and got undressed completely. Nabbing one of Glorfy's shirts from the neatly folded pile at the foot of the bed, I put it on. Much better...nothing like men's clothing to bum around and relax in! Especially when said man's clothing could quite literally be used as a blanket.
Finally comfy, I plunked myself back down in the midst of the blankets and pillows and took a deep breath. The scent of clean laundry mingled with the scent of clean Glorfy, and helped to dull the scent of sulphur and grossness that is Mordor. I exhaled, counting to five. Inhale, count to five, exhale, count to five...over and over and over again. I'd had some practice at this on account of being taught to wield a sword, so quite rapidly I turned the process over to the unconscious part of my brain and got to work.
What happened then is what startled me. I am going to record it as though I were actually talking/reacting to another physical presence, though everything happened in my own head. But personifying the fuzziness that's within me is the only way I have of conveying the strangeness of it, so bear with me.
I poked it. It looked at me. I looked at it. I damn near lost the trance-thing-state that I was in due to surprise. Ever have I thought of the thing in terms of a cat; now it was giving me the same expression as cats give when you've disturbed them from their all-important activities.
What?
It took me a minute to realize that it wasn't Glorfy talking to me. But then I realized that he would never be that belligerent.
What are you? I asked it.
Same thing you are, it replied.
Like hell. Since when have I been some fuzzy sense wrapped around someone's solar plexus?
Think facets, it snapped. I am a facet of you. I was asleep before the lightning; now I'm not.
Where did you come from?
You.
I thought you were in the lightning.
I was.
But then how did you come from me?
I am you; a facet of you...only recently activated, to be sure. But still you.
I got that part, I said, though I still had no idea what the hell was going on. So. How do you work?
What do you mean?
How do I get you to do what I want you to do?
Ask nicely.
And, just like that, I snapped out of it. I opened my eyes, startled to find Glorfy sitting across from me, looking worried.
"I tried to contact you," he said aloud. "Are you alright?"
I blinked at him a few times. He must have been pretty worried to drop what he was doing to come find me. Did he know then? No…he must still be worried about me, even though the morning (and afternoon and evening and night...why do they call it 'morning' sickness when it happens all the damn time?) puke-fests have pretty much stopped. Thank all things holy for that! "Yeah. Just trying to work something out."
"In my shirt?" he asked wryly.
"It's comfy," I replied defensively, going a little red. "Seriously, though. I'm alright."
He gave me a long look and then sighed. "If you say so, melyanna." He rose. "I must return to my duties; will you be alright here?"
"Of course, my lovely," I replied. "No worries." He swooped in for a kiss that lasted longer than it should have, stood with a grin, and left. With a sigh, I flopped back over onto the bed.
Ask nicely, eh? A facet of me? What the hell does all this mean?
I contemplated the fuzziness that had wrapped itself around me, and felt it raise its head again. I looked at the fingers on my left hand, which had so recently zapped Elrond. I concentrated on them, and asked the fuzziness – nicely – in my head if it wouldn't mind heading that way. I wasn't expecting it to move; indeed, I felt rather foolish for thinking it had to be done this way. I mean, if this fuzziness is me, and I am it, why do I have to ask nicely?
In answer, a spark jumped from my left hand to right between my eyes. It was no more painful than the discharge of static electricity, but I still yelped.
Great. After a lifetime of dreaming, I finally have a superpower and it's got a mind of its own. Bloody marvelous.
After that, I am cautious with how I deal with this thing. I don't want some stupid facet of my brain deciding that the rest of me needed a metaphorical smack upside the head. Not only is it grounds for institutionalization, but it's just plain scary…
I got ordered back from the front lines today. Glorfy found out.
Fiona didn't tell him, and neither did I (largely because I didn't know how to broach the subject). I think it might have been Elrond, though I don't know when he would have figured it out. He hadn't had a hold of my chin for long enough that day I nearly electrocuted him, and I haven't seen him since, except in passing. So maybe it wasn't Elrond. Sadoriel? Could be…I'm around her a lot more.
I dunno. I just know that I was having fun blowing shit up with lightning from my fingertips (this is a hell of a lot more fun than any movie ever made it look like. Everything…tingles, it's marvellous!), and then, out of no where, Glorfy appears on Minras and grabs me by the scruff of the neck, hauls me up on to Minras' back, and heads off back to camp.
He didn't answer my questions the whole way back, either aloud or in our heads. I knew he was angry, even from body language alone if the bond hadn't been brimming with the emotion to start with. I fed off that emotion somehow, so by the time he plunked me down on our bed, I too was pissed.
"What are you doing?" he demanded. "Why are you on the frontlines, putting yourself in danger?"
I stared at him. "This is a battle ground, Glorfy. Putting myself in danger is a moot point. Everywhere in this whole damn camp is dangerous."
"You know of what I speak," he said testily.
"No, actually, I don't." I replied. I stood from the bed and crossed my arms under my breasts. "And I'm not going to be talked to like this. If you're angry at me, at least do me the decency of telling me why."
"Why?" he shouted, taking me aback. "You want to know why? You carry my child and the future of my House and you want to know why I don't want you to be in danger?"
To my credit, I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't slap his face. I wanted to, more than anything, to do something to get back at him for shouting, but I knew why he had. I felt the ground drop away from me, and my breathing got really heavy, and my head spun. I felt sick to my stomach and…mad. The fuzziness built and built, looking for a way out, for something to zap into oblivion.
I tried to keep my face still, to not flood him with emotions as I wanted to. Well, I did fling the sharp sting of hurt at him before I walled myself off, but it was no more than he deserved.
It would have worked too, if I hadn't passed out.
Wake up.
The thought – my own – echoed through my dream. I sat up. The tent was empty. I looked around, and then stood. I tried to walk, but my legs would not work properly, so I pulled myself along by my hands. I stuck my head out the tent flap and into a cave.
The cave was dark, but there were markings on the wall that glowed phosphorescently. I crawled forward, wondering if my legs would work if I got to the end of the tunnel. A cat brushed past me, his fur crackling with static electricity. It mewed, and sparks jumped between its teeth.
Wake up!
But I am awake…
I was lying on my back, under the stars. Somehow the image of the ceiling of my tent got superimposed on the sky, and the two would flicker back and forth. I looked to my right. There was a woman I didn't know, sitting beside me.
"Your garden's gone dry," she said. "You need to water the plants."
I looked over at the garden that was never there, but now had been there the whole time. The plants were withered, except one.
"But I watered them yesterday," I said, confused.
"Everything is energy," the woman said. She leaned back and I realized that she was completely naked. This didn't disturb me as much as it might have, I realized…I was probably still dreaming.
Wake up!
I could feel my muscles trembling, like the after effects of ecstasy. My hands clenched and spasms rippled up and down my legs. I could feel my back arch underneath me, but my mind was elsewhere…images flickered passed, too quick to follow. All at once, I could breathe again. Air rasped down my throat and I said one word
"Seizure…"
…darkness...
I woke up suddenly, though it took me a while to focus. Glorfindel was standing over me, with Elrond and Sadoriel, and all three of them looked worried. Faint memories of ridiculous dreams came back to me, and I stared bleary-eyed at everyone. I felt drained and dopey, and for far too long couldn't remember what my name was.
"I had a seizure, didn't I?" I asked, trying to remember just what had happened. The dreams became clearer, but I didn't have the energy to process them just then. "Don't worry about it," I added when no one said anything. "I get them from time to time. It's just my brain short-circuiting." I reflected that this one might be the result of throwing electricity around and decided that I should probably cut back.
"Do you always shoot sparks from your fingers and toes when you have one of these?" Elrond asked dryly.
"No, that would be something new," I said, equally as dryly. "Did anyone get hurt?"
"No, my lovely," Glorfy finally spoke. "No one got hurt. But are you…and…" he glanced fearfully at my belly.
We're fine, I said telepathically.
"Your wife and child are unharmed," Elrond said. Blast! This means he did know. But I was still in my post-seizure stupor, and couldn't be bothered to figure out what – if anything – that meant.
Good lord. There's no getting out of being sent from the camp now. Damnit!
Glorfy looked so relieved that I wanted to take him in my arms and hold him. He muttered something in Elvish, and the only word I understood out of all of it was "Eru". Elrond put a hand on his shoulder, nodded to me, and slipped out. Sadoriel stayed long enough to help me sit up in bed and pile enough cushions behind me that I stayed sitting up in bed, and then she too slipped out of the tent. Glorfy sat down on the many layers of carpets that shielded our feet from the bare black rock of Mordor.
We were silent for a few moments. For the longest time, he simply stared at me. When he finally spoke, it was in a quiet voice, and one that hurt me even more than when he had yelled.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know," I replied, quite honestly. "Part of me wanted to, more than anything. And the other part…" I trailed off. "I wanted to be sure."
"Could you not sense the life within you?"
I looked at my feet, and didn't say anything. My throat felt thick. It didn't help that I was weak from the seizure. The fact that I had sensed the new life within my belly only made the guilt worse.
"How did you find out?" I asked finally.
When he didn't respond immediately, I thought for a second that he hadn't heard. I was about to ask him again when he…well, my writing professors used to say "show, don't tell" in regards to writing stories. It basically means that an author should endeavour to have his or her reader seeing events unfolding with the inner eye, rather than the bland description of a text book. What Glorfy did then took "show, don't tell" to a whole different level He actually showed me, something that I hadn't even thought possible, even with the whole telepathy thing. This is what he showed me:
Glorfindel strode to the command pavilion, worried about his new wife. This new sickness could be a sign of worse things to come – especially since it had begun to present itself in this foul land. He had to squash the stark terror of being alone again, crush it mercilessly under a millennia of discipline. He could feel her in the back of his mind, a bundle of emotions and thoughts. If necessary, that bond could lead him directly to her…it had been necessary on more than one occasion since she and her sister had arrived, something that bothered Glorfindel to no end.
But he had to push those thoughts away. Gildor and Elrond were waiting for him with the latest reports, and Isildur was calling for his attention on the matter of the deployment of troops to the eastern edge of the camp, where the battle was being fought today. The sensation of Minaimîr seemed…pleased. She was taking part in that battle, putting her newfound skills to work.
Were it not for discipline, Glorfindel would have shaken his head. Minaimîr's sudden skills had likely the same source as the Queen's development of foresight; but while Elves had always had the talent of foresight, as well as a select few with further magics, he had yet to hear of one that could control lightning as his wife did. He glanced down at his right hand, now mostly healed. The sky's fire had burned him, seared him at a single touch, but – in spite of all his fears – Minaimîr had remained unscathed by the lightning bolt. Something else to be thankful for, he supposed.
Glorfindel glanced to the east. He could see the flicker and hear the crashing, pounding thunder as his wife called it down from the sky – however it was she managed it. A gift from Aman indeed. He could almost imagine the carnage she must be spreading amongst the Orcs, and the terror also. Their twisted kin could hardly recognize the true source of the lightening.
"Glorfindel?" Isildur asked. "Have you heard a word I said?"
With a start, Glorfindel realized that his wife had – yet again – been the cause of his wandering mind. "My apologies, Isildur," Glorfindel said with a shake of the head. "Minaimîr is on the front lines, and her safety is a cause of great worry for me."
Gildor laughed gently. "It is truly a wonder that you even let her near the front lines," he said.
"Truly," Glorfindel replied. "If I had any other choice, she and I would be far away from here, and safe from harm."
"Aye," Gildor said. "Especially now."
Glorfindel frowned. He noticed that Elrond and Isildur had suddenly gone still, as had many other Elves and Men around them.
"What do you speak of?" Glorfindel asked, confused. He looked around him, searching for a face that registered the same confusion that he felt.
Gildor's frown matched Glorfindel's. Everyone else had gone straight-faced, devoid of emotion. It worried Glorfindel.
"Well, it is no wonder you want her removed from the front lines, given her condition," Gildor said reasonably. "Were it my wife, I don't believe that I co –"
"Her condition?" Glorfindel interrupted. "What condition? What condition?" Glorfindel practically roared when no one answered, and Gildor flinched.
"You mean…You didn't know?" he asked incredulously. "You cannot possibly tell me that you did not know that your Lady wife is with child."
"She would have told me…" he began. But then he stopped, and examined the sensation of Minaimîr that resided in the back of his mind. Deep down, past the mild glee at destruction, and her love for him, her homesickness for her own time and the sense of sorority she shared with the Queen, beyond that…what was that phrase she used so often? Bloody hell? It suited.
Glorfindel was out of the command pavilion before Gildor or anyone else truly realized that he had moved. He could hear someone calling after him, but he ignored them. Minras was near; Glorfindel mounted his old friend without a saddle or a bridle, only sent Minras his intention. Minras understood, and was off, galloping through the camp towards the front lines. He only slowed when he reached the pitched battle, and then only long enough for Glorfindel to locate his wife.
Fool! He cursed himself for not noticing; 'her condition', Gildor had said. Hah! Blind fool!
He could see her, standing on a bit of an outcrop so she could see over everyone's heads. Doubtless she didn't know what sort of a target she presented to the enemy, especially looking as she did. Her hair was wild about her, moving in the currents of the lightning that she wielded. Even from this distance Glorfindel could discern small blue sparks leaping from strand to strand, and between her splayed fingers. Everywhere she pointed, Orcs jerked and fell. Searing hot strands of lightning fell amongst the Orcs further away.
Glorfindel knew touching her could be potentially dangerous, but he didn't care. He was hurt and angry that she hadn't told him, that she had known all along and had gone into battle anyway. Bad enough that she felt she had to endanger herself – but with a child! Their child! The utter terror of being alone had to be squashed again before it made him do something rash.
Minras leaped forward, scattering Elves and Men and Orcs and horses as he went. He barely took the time to trample any Orcs that got in his way, though he did his best to avoid downed allies. Minaimîr didn't even look up from where she was; all of her concentration was on the battle before her. As he came up behind her, Glorfindel leaned down from Minras' back and snatched his wife up by the scruff of her tunic. Even with the armour she was as light as a feather – to him, at least.
"What the hell are you doing?" she squawked as Minras carried them back to their tent. She asked again on their private link, but he didn't answer. All he wanted was for her to be safe.
I withdrew from the images feeling a sense of shock. He had carried the story as far as seeing me collapse, and – a few moments later, before he had time to send for Elrond – go into seizure. Despite having had seizures before, they have always been in my sleep, and so no one had ever been around to witness one. Furthermore, they were so few and far between that when I was diagnosed with them as a child, the doctor didn't seem to think they were anything all that important. Whatever…every few months – sometimes not even once a year – I end up with messed up dreams and a day of no fine motor control over my muscles. The after affects usually only last a day, and then I'm back to normal until the next time my brain short-circuits.
The point of all this was that, seeing myself twitching and convulsing through Glorfy's eyes – and seeing all those jolts of electricity grounding themselves, even as Sadoriel appeared and ran to fetch Elrond – made me feel even worse that I hadn't told him about the baby. Especially since I could feel every emotion that Glorfindel had felt at the time. I had no idea the sheer depth of emotion that Glorfy feels towards me…it was staggering in its intensity. I felt as if I didn't deserve it – especially not now, after I'd deceived him.
By the end of it all, I wasn't a pretty sight. My eyes were red from the tears of guilt, and all I wanted was for Glorfindel to hold me and tell me he forgave me, but I was almost too afraid to tell him that.
"I'm sorry," I said. It came out as a whisper.
He didn't say anything, just enfolded me in his arms.
"I think I need to tell you something," I said a little while later, scrubbing my face with a cloth to get the worst of the tears off.
"What is it, melyanna?"
"You're going to be a dad."
His face lit up with a smile so brilliant that I couldn't help but return it.
Everything is going to be okay. Not just because Fiona's my twin, and she'll be with me through the whole thing (though that's a huge part of it) – my husband is not going to send me away. Glorfy explained the whole thing to me: a pregnant she-Elf (in this case, me…bloody hell!) has to be helped through her pregnancy by her husband. The bond, that wonderful link that allowed us to share our thoughts, is critical in keeping both the unborn child and the mother alive.
Come to think of it, Elrond had mentioned something along those lines, all those weeks ago when he'd explained 'begetting' in that somewhat bland voice of his. Truthfully, I think even Fiona mentioned it, back when we were still fanfiction nut-jobs in search of chocolate and the perfect Mary-Sue; though, when Fiona brought it up, it was something she dug up out of the Peoples of Middle-earth series. Having never read them (or finished the Silmarillion), it hadn't really ever occurred to me that there would be no way that either Fiona or I would be sent from the respective sides of our respective husbands. And now there's no way they can get rid of us.
At the same time, the idea of being so dependant on another person – for my very survival! – when it was primarily this person's fault that I'm in the condition I'm in…! Well, I've never been the most independent person, and my family will attest to that if anyone ever meets them. But that doesn't change the fact that I hate being beholden to anyone, and because I can't actually leave Glorfy's side, that means he's going to be spending the next year spazzing out about me and the baby. On top of everything else he has to worry about…
It's been three months, or so…my updates have gotten sporadic, at best. In fact, I'd written a middlin' amount, but those pages got damaged and are now illegible, thanks to an errant arm and a bottle of ink that I'd forgotten to put a stopper on – in? Whatever. Point is, I can't even remember what I'd written, so all of that stuff will just have to be lost to posterity.
Anyway…I'm starting to get fat.
Okay, not fat. It's mostly my imagination, but I'm half convinced that my belly's starting to swell. I'm starting to look pregnant, is what I mean, and other people (apart from those who already knew) are starting to notice. And grin. And congratulate me. And the women are starting to squeal (in a dignified Elvish way of course). And if there could be, I'm sure there would be little old ladies telling me about their firstborns, or their grandchildren, or their friend's children, and offering advice on how to cope, and…argh! Just Elrond and Glorfy are bad enough. Motherhood is a wonderful thing, I'm sure, but I'm going to reserve my final opinion for when I finally give birth. In the mean time…
Sorry…I had a feeling I was going to be emotional, and it seems I get annoyed at the drop of the metaphorical hat. In actuality, I'm really looking forward to having kids, young as I am. Terrified, to be sure; but happy. Not even the War can dim the prospect of having my very own child…my blood…
Damn these hormones! Angry to weepy in an instant…At least some little old lady isn't going to be showing me blurry, wallet-sized pictures of her grandchildren. Only because there isn't any photographic technology, and all the 'old ladies' around here look my age and are actually several centuries older.
Doesn't stop some of them from trying, though. As interesting as miniature portraits are, and as marvellous as the detail is, some days it's all I can do to force a polite smile on my face and nod. I have to wonder if there's a gene behind the urge to blather on about your kids. Perhaps I'll understand when this one hatches.
Fiona, of course, has is far worse than me. Very few people know about her, so she doesn't get the constant babble that I get, but that just means that hiding the fact of it is that much more stressful. Few, thankfully ever stop to wonder why it was she switched to long, loose dresses. Every now and again, though, we share a rueful look and make a silly remark about being twins in everything.
I wonder if it's a boy or a girl? I'll take either, really. Names are going to be interesting…old Elf customs apparently state that the mother gives one name, and the father gives another, and then when the kid grows up they somehow acquire another name, and a nickname (an epessë…I finally found out what that was), and eventually, their father/mother names are lost in history and seldom remembered.
Huh…I suppose it's one way to avoid the conflicts that could arise from two stubborn parents wanting two different names, but honestly…I'm the one carrying the kid to term, I think my names should go first. Hee hee.
I have more time on my hands to wonder about these things, these days. Ever since it became common knowledge that I was 'caught', the whole army has been working against me to keep me from harm. I don't know if Glorfy told them to, or if they're acting entirely of their own volition, but I haven't been in the thick of a battle ever since…since Glorfy grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me off to our tent. Three months. I never thought I'd miss it so much.
Oh, they let me participate; they don't really have a choice in that matter. Even Gilly tried to order me to stop, and I just gave him my trademark smile and casually mentioned something about how it was funny that those big rocks that Barad-dûr had been throwing at us lately were blowing up before they reached our ranks. That silenced him pretty effectively, but it didn't mean that I was let back into the front. It just meant that I was allowed to blow shit up from an even bigger distance than before. It's just…not as much fun.
I've had all the 'fun' I can take for at least another year. Good lord…
The battles seem to be getting worse. I've never managed to ask how long the Alliance had been at this, and not knowing exactly how much time was spent in Mordor before Sauron got his fingers lopped of doesn't help; it just means I don't know how much longer we have to be at this before it's over and that's trying. But those boulders that I've been zapping (which takes far more effort than it sounds like…moving targets and all that) have recently started to be covered in pitch and set alight before they're flung. Gods help us all if they start throwing metal containers filled with liquid magma…
Anyway, I had taken up my customary spot on a well-sheltered outcrop in the middle of camp, one with a reasonable view of the battlefield. It was nice, because while my range doesn't seem to be limited (at least, I haven't found a limit to it yet, though I'm sure there must be one…or more), arrows do have a limited range, and so the Orcs couldn't shoot me from where they were. The Enemy was getting clever…more than one flaming boulder was loosed this time, and I was getting tired trying to blow all of them up.
To keep my spirits up, I played AC-DC's Thunderstruck in my head, or – at least – those bits of it I knew; which consists of the opening few bars and the yowled "Thunderstruck!" by whatshisname the lead singer. While this served to keep my lighting in time (almost like playing along to a song, really…only my instrument is a deadly natural force. Lamest comparison ever, but I hope you understand the picture there), it also served to drive Glorfy almost around the bend, to the point where he had to withdraw from my mind. It would have been better if I knew the rest of the song, but…oh well.
Even with this, though, my aim was never perfect. The bolts that missed invariably fell amongst Orcs, but the boulders that I missed invariably fell amongst our ranks. It all made me terribly upset, which is probably why when things turned nasty later, I didn't exactly react with…rationality.
You see, Fe got captured. This made me doubly desperate…amongst other glaringly obvious reasons, I refuse to let my child grow up without knowing her Auntie Fe.
My strength was flagging. I'd spent all day blowing things up and I was tired. Day after day of forcing myself to fight was beginning to take its toll. I watched the flaming boulder loose from Barad-dûr, and with a sinking feeling, knew that my lightning wouldn't be fast enough to stop this one. That didn't stop me from trying; I flung my hand out as before, willing the fuzziness to move, but everything was going too slowly. My awareness of everything around me sprang into sudden relief and I felt as though Fiona were near by, felt her fear in the energy of the air molecules. With sudden clarity, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and that there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was too far away to pull her out myself, too slow with the lightning to smash the projectile into harmless bits as I had done with the others. There have been very few occasions in my life where I have felt so helpless, and so far, this is the worst. I think I might have even screamed.
The last I remember before the blood-red haze drifted over my vision was Berialagor and the hot twin guards grabbing Fiona and pushing her out of the way as fast as they could, and the explosion of dirt and flame from the missile hitting, and then…anger.
If I'd taken a second to think, I would have realized that the innate sense of Fiona that I have was still there; she wasn't dead. But I didn't think. I unleashed hell.
Well, that's what they tell me, anyway. I don't remember much except for a feeling of being a lot higher than I must have been, of walking on stilts of lighting and flying on wings of electricity. Of flinging all my anger and bitterness at the impenetrable walls of Barad-dûr, my frustration, and hatred of Sauron and his minions, my loneliness, and the terror that I would face life without my twin beside me. They tell me the sky rained bits of flaming wood for some time after that; I'd blown up all the trebuchets within range.
I came back to myself in front of Gil-galad. I don't remember how I got there. But it gradually dawned on me that he was asking if I knew where Fiona was. I stared at him incomprehensibly while my mind tried to catch up with what I'd been doing.
"What?" My mouth felt like I'd been eating cotton balls – and then stuffing the sodden wads in my ears too, because I couldn't hear a damn thing. My skin tingled as the fuzziness slithered up and down my arms, and around my body. The slightest twinge would send it out to zap anything I desired.
"Where is your sister, Minaimîr?" Gil-galad demanded, in full King mode.
"I…" I stopped. I remembered… "…the rock!"
"No, she wasn't there! She was moved. Where is she?"
I felt like I'd been into the wine all day. I tried to focus…Fiona…I could always find her when she hid on me. I could always sense her when she was in danger. Focus!
Where is your sister, Minaimîr? The words echoed in my skull, and seemed to pull the cotton from my brain.
My heartbeat got loud in my ears, and I withdrew into my mind. Energy…I could feel it all around me, the thrum of the air molecules, the pressure of living flesh, the greasy filth of Orcs, the depth of the rocks…past all of that, and down, was the feeling…Fiona…
I'd never consciously done this before. Truthfully, I had no idea what I was doing, other than that I'd been commanded to find my sister, and at this time and in this place, this was the only way I knew how to look.
My head shot up and I looked towards the hideous structure of Barad-dûr. "They've taken her…!" I started to run, gathering the fuzziness around me, ready to strike…
And then my heart spasmed. Hard.
I doubled over, swearing. Someone was at my side in an instant – Glorfy, thankfully. I straightened up quickly, panting, but the damage was done. My husband wasn't going to be letting me out of his sight for the rest of the battle. No running after my sister for me. The fuzziness vanished; I almost felt empty without it curling around my body – but the slight weight of my child quickly dispelled that feeling.
I turned back to Gil-galad. "They've pulled her towards Sauron's lair, but...she's trapped! Hurry! She's within range of the tower!"
I've never seen Elves move that fast. Glorfy and I were deserted in an instant.
Something niggled at the back of my mind. Why couldn't he find her himself? I asked Glorfy via our special channel.
I don't know, my lovely, Glorfy answered. But you must rest now.
"No!" I cried suddenly. "I can't rest without knowing she's safe, and they might need my help to bring her back!"
"Melyanna, the baby…"
I put my hand on my belly, very slightly swollen with the child within. Thankfully, nothing was wrong. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Whatever caused that spasm…would have to wait.
"Precious, you once told me that as long as my abilities were useful and didn't harm the baby, I could participate in this war." Glorfy looked like he was suddenly regretting that decision, but I didn't let him have time to speak. Never mind that if I'd been sent away the baby might not have made it, that if I could not participate I would go stir-crazy. "The baby is fine. I'm fine. But Fiona isn't; she needs help, and I seem to have abilities that no one else does. But I don't have time to debate their origin or whether or not I'm using them for the right purpose; I have to go."
For a long second, Glorfindel simply looked down at me. And then a wave of love and pride and worry and frustration washed over me down our private link. I offered him a small smile.
"I love you too."
A/N: I think I should have called this one "When Cliffhangers Attack". Sorry to leave it like that, especially with our recent updating habits (or lack thereof)…it just fit. And Lór asked me to let her write the rescue scene, since it was all her plan :). But she, like I, has a full time job and life to stop her from writing, so…bear with us, just a little longer. You've made it this far, haven't you?
On a completely unrelated note, these new line-thingies that they've added in are awesome! No more shall our A/N's be confused for story text!