Bard – sorry it's been so long!!! Don't worry, I haven't given up on the fic, I've just been horrifically busy!

Chapter 22 – A Betrayal

The startling black heavens opened out before Elmarië's eyes as she marched into the night. It was as though the daylight had been torn asunder, leaving a stark, gaping void in its wake. She felt again a shadow of the helplessness she had experienced as she had watched Thaliondil's retreating form disappear into the gloom, taking with him her one chance for true happiness. She now decided coldly that she would never be happy; that joy was unattainable. Yet in place of contentment, she would have revenge. Once more she would evade the chains of marriage, and in so doing defy them all. And this time, she would never go back. Nurram would keep her from harm, and there would be no need for her to return home in shame and disgrace, like a foolish and wayward child. Her will could not be broken; not this time. Her father could rant and rage as much as he wished, yet she would no longer be present to hear him.

A chilling rain began to pour steadily from the heavens, and clung to her black hair as she made her way towards the River. A skeletal moon contemplated the dark earth, and made the airborne torrent of rain shimmer like the kindled ashes of stars. Her eyes misted with rain and tears, Elmarië came at last to the River Esgalduin. The ethereal light struck its bubbling surface, and the sweet sighing of the eddying water seemed to float upon the air like a fine sea-mist. The rock beneath her feet was smooth and slick with rain as she crept uncertainly towards the dark figure standing upon the very edge of the stone river bank, watching the dancing water. He was tall - cloaked and hooded in black, and did not stir as she approached. She placed her shaking hand upon his shoulder. Fast as a coiling snake, the man turned and seized both her arms roughly with cold, uncompromising hands. Sharply, he pulled her close to his hooded face, until Elmarië felt his warm breath upon her cheek. She gasped, as horror and disbelief tore at her heart. It was Culdir.

'What have we here?' He mocked coldly, pale blue eyes glimmering faintly. Elmarië did not reply. Realising suddenly how close to the water's edge Culdir held her, she tried to break free. Yet her limbs were stiff with terror, and her weak attempt of escape only made him laugh sneeringly.

'No, my love. This time you shall not resist me.' A lock of his red, flaming hair fell across his eye like a gleaming strand of fire. Elmarië now wept anew, and her tears made the moonlight splinter like the remains of a fractured mirror before her eyes. This simply could not be happening.

'I beg you to release me! Do not keep me here against my will,' even as she spoke the words, she knew that they were futile. 'Why would you wish to possess me?'

'Why, indeed!' He scoffed. 'For no woman is worth such trouble as you have given me!'

'Then let me be gone!' she pleaded. 'I would make for you a terrible wife!'

'There you are wrong, my dear,' he replied, in a soft, menacing tone. 'I would like nothing better than to make you my own. You stand now before me so proud and adamant, yet I will win this battle, you may be sure!' As though to prove his superiority he slapped her across the face, his hand cold and unyielding as stone. She did not flinch, though her cheek stung with the force of the blow.

'You shall never break me,' she said quietly, her rage returning and emanating through her sharp eyes.

'Nay, my love. I do not intend to break you! I merely desire to tame you, by any means necessary. You are not as mighty as you deem.' Elmarië looked him in the eyes. Her tears had subsided, and her wrath grew. Yet she remained silent.

'Come,' he ordered. 'I tire of this place. And you are in need of rest - an important day is before you.' His sharp features momentarily caught the moonlight as he turned and strode into the shadows of the trees, dragging Elmarië behind him.

Endless rain beat in shafts of driven fury against the small misted window. The frosty moon was setting, and its dying radiance poured into the small chamber, illuminating Elmarië's pale face where she sat huddled upon the floor. She was in the house of Culdir. The walls of this room had been adorned by rich tapestries, yet in her rage she had torn them down. She gazed numbly at where they lay forlorn and limp upon the carpeted floor. In spite of everything, she realised bleakly preferred this house to her father's. It was less grand and imposing - less cold. It was perhaps decorated in a rather ostentatious manner, with finery and jewels festooned all about as though there was not enough space in this vast house to contain the wealth of its master. Yet somehow, it was more of a home.

Elmarië drew herself to her feet, and once more struggled with the catch upon the fine wooden door, yet it was no use. It clearly did not open from within. Her throat was dry, for she had screamed and pleaded for help for over an hour. No one had come. She had now calmed, and slumped despondently upon the floor, her back to the wall. How had Culdir learned of her escape? He might have guessed, she supposed, yet how had he known the exact time and place to await her? Chance had not brought him to the River at midnight. And where was Nurram? Perhaps Culdir had somehow espied their meetings. He might possibly have had her watched, fearing lest she might attempt to escape a second time. Elmarië wondered whether her father knew aught of this. Despite her anguish, and her many unanswered questions, she was utterly exhausted, and collapsing upon the ground she lay drifting upon the brink of sleep, her turmoil preventing her from being fully immersed in the numb, comforting abyss of forgetfulness.

A sharp knock at the door made her sit up straight. She dragged herself to her weary feet as the door heaved open, and Culdir entered the room. Thin light from the corridor beyond spilled into the darkness of the chamber, and Elmarië glared at the satisfied face of her future husband. He stood before her, looking down at her white, obstinate face.

'The time has come,' he said. 'Dawn approaches, and there is much to do.' Elmarië did not reply, but glared at him fiercely, her arms folded across her chest.

'My servants shall soon attend to you,' he continued. 'The entire kingdom shall turn its eyes towards you today, and you must be made beautiful.' He brushed her cheek with his cold hand. His touch made her skin crawl, and she made a conscious effort not to recoil - she would let him see what an effect he was having upon her. Neither would she speak. There was another knock upon the slightly open door, and Culdir smiled softly. He took a smooth step backwards, and glanced at the figure upon the other side of the door, beckoning for the stranger to enter.

'There is one whom I would have you meet,' he said, smiling, gesturing toward the Elf who entered the dark room. 'My most trusted servant.' Elmarië made no effort to conceal her dismay as she recognised Nurram.

'I have other matters to attend to,' Culdir declared simply. 'Nurram - take her to her chamber. The maidens await her there.' With a hurried glance at Elmarië, Culdir turned and departed from the chamber, leaving her alone with Nurram.

'Come,' Nurram took her arm, and tried to pull her towards the door.

'Do not touch me!' Elmarië screamed, struggling from his grasp. Nurram looked her in the eyes for the first time. His sorrow was plain to see.

'Please, lady. It would be easier for us both if you would do as you are bid.' Elmarië glared at him with scorn.

'How could you!' She raged, her limbs frozen by fury and horror. 'I placed my trust in you! And only deceit have you given me in return!'

'Do not hate me.' He pleaded, 'Do you not see that this is for your own benefit? You have dwelt in the wild for a time, and surely you realise that such an existence is not for you.' This was a feeble excuse for his actions, and he knew it. He avoided her penetrating gaze.

'I could live anywhere, if the one I loved remained by my side! Then it would no longer matter whether I dwelt in comfort or not! We could have been happy, Nurram! We could have made for ourselves a home, somewhere new!' She pleaded with him desperately, seeing that he wavered in his decision.

'You lie, my Lady. You love me not - it was convenient indeed for you to deceive me, yet I am no fool.' He said at last, his lip trembling.

'Is that reason to betray me, and sentence me to a life of misery?' She exclaimed bitterly, and he winced at her harsh tone. 'Do you not care for me at all, Nurram? But of course you do not, or you would not have done this deed.'

'I did it simply because I care!' He exclaimed suddenly, his abrupt vehemence taking Elmarië by surprise, 'I could not allow you to leave your home; it would be unfair. Yet I shall ever be beside you, my Lady. My master bade me watch over you, and so I have done. You do not know perhaps, how much I owe the Lord Culdir. He is the closest I have ever had to a father. He gave me food and shelter when my home and kin were destroyed, and I a refugee of war, with no other hope. He set me to work as his servant, and in time he bestowed his implicit trust upon me. You do not know him as I, but believe me when I say that his faith is rarely given, thus from such a man it is a gift like no other. I think, Lady, that he loves me in his way, even as a son. I would be a liar, if I called him the kindest of masters, perhaps, yet all the meagre kindness my life has known has been through him. Where can my allegiance lie, if not with him?'

'Do you not love me, Nurram?' Elmarië's eyes were wide and imploring. Nurram shook as though with anger, and his face seemed changed. He looked for a moment haggard and deadly.

'I think that I do. Yet you are bound in love to another, I see it in your eyes even now. You love me not, and wish only to use me to escape your doom!' He raged suddenly, and a flash of malice she would have deemed him incapable of now burned in his eyes. Elmarië was shocked.

'You shall never be mine!' He screamed, his eyes gleaming. 'Even were I to aid you, your love would be withheld from me.'

'In this you are correct - I love you not at all! For you have proved yourself to be a treacherous snake! I shall never forgive you.' Nurram looked suddenly as though he were in physical pain.

'If I am treacherous, Lady, then what of you? Love is no weapon with which to strike a man's heart, to cozen and kill! It cannot be cast aside when it serves you no longer! Never have I beheld a maid thus false!' He shouted, voicing his pain. His eyes were alive with rage, and his breathing was feverish and frantic.

'You are mad!' Elmarië exclaimed. 'And I do not comprehend your mind! If you did not wish to help me, then you might have simply refused. Rather that than decieve me! Is it vengeance that drives you? Are you angered because you believe that I love you not?' Nurram's previously gentle, kind manner had vanished without a trace. He seemed now like another person altogether, and Elmarië wondered suddenly whether she was in danger. Nurram fell suddenly to his knees before her, clasping her hands tightly.

'My life is yours,' he said shakily. 'You are part of my very breath.'

'Then do as I bid, and help me to escape, ere it is too late,' She cried shrilly.

'It is already too late,' he rose, took her arm, and drew her to the door. 'I must follow my master's orders.' Elmarie tried to pull away from him, but he simply grasped her more tightly.

'I do not wish to force you Lady, yet if you struggle I shall have no choice.' In silence, Elmarie allowed herself to be led helplessly through the winding corridors of the grand house, to the chamber where she was to be made ready for her wedding. They halted at the open door, and Nurram gazed into the distance, his eyes blank and his face expressionless.

'I would have been yours, Nurram,' she whimpered, in a last desperate attempt to make him reconsider. 'Yours forever.'

'Forgive me,' he whispered, pushing her sharply into the chamber.