Hello all, sorry about the long delay inthe updating of this story, but do not fear the next installment should be coming soon, hopefully before I start school. I'm not sure if this is scewing too far from what a fanfic should be but since the Professor left the East fairly unwritten about it leaves itself to be writte n about. If any of you has a problem with how the story goes please dont feel shy to tell me about it, its important that I remain true to Tolkien's words and work, yet creative liscense always plays a factor, now without further adue I give you Chapter 23.
The red sand beneath his feet crunched and sifted as he ran swiftly over the desert plain to the tower that steadily began to cover the northern sky. As man and elf neared the stone tower the sounds of shrill cries began to fill the night air, the bodies had been discovered no doubt…they had little time before search parties were sent out to find escapees, and only a few hours before the enemy would seek retribution. When they reached the pillar of stone Celebrin noticed that it too had steps carved into its side, though these were more broken apart and less stable than the ones they had just descended, yet for the fleet footed elf it was little more than a morning walk beside the sea shores of Harlond. The young man navigated the broken ledges as well as the elf yet hesitated or caused a few to tumble down the spiraling stair. As the stair became narrower as they neared the top, the middle of the night had long passed; day, if it indeed would come, was near. No more memories came to the elf as the growing sounds of oncoming battle began to fill the air, the enemy beat their drums and the cruel shouts of a harsh tongue rose amid the din of clanging shields and swords. The top of this pillar was smaller than the other, yet was more guarded as it was crowned with a wall of pointed stones, placed side-by-side to form a fence that archers could use to send arrows upon their enemies and keep themselves from harm.
Who built these battlements the elf was unsure, yet he had a feeling that the Numenoreans may have had a hand in such architecture, though he had never before seen the walls of Minas Tirith or the guard walls of Osgiliath, for the affairs of mortals were far from his mind and care in those days. As they caught their breath at the top of the pillar he surveyed the land that surrounded him, the pillar, though it was shorter from the southern one, was built upon the end of the plain where the flat land quickly dropped on its way north. If the enemy gave pursuit, the shadow of the night would hide the sheer drop, hopefully injuring both rider and beast if Cidhrali's people found chance of escape.
Quickly they tied one end of the rope to a stone close to the edge and began to coil them to allow free movement. Then Celebrin descended the pillar as the young man uncoiled bundle after bundle of makeshift rope; wrapped in his cloak he was unseen by the renewed guard at the bottom of the pillar where Cidhrali and her people sat and waited. With each foot the rope descended to the bottom of the pillar just as it had done with the other; the next few moments were a blur as the elf, bow in one hand, and knife in the other, ran to the encampment of guards and hid amidst the shadows. There he could hear harsh voices speaking in the tongue that Cidhrali taught him.
"How long till we fight! These peasants tire me!"
"Just you wait, they'll come down. They have no more water and plenty wounded, old and weak."
"Yeah they'll be begging to go back to the way things were!"
"Good, my wife's been nagging me to get a new slave, the old one's been getting lazy."
Celebrin girded his teeth, and staying out of the light of the fire, he sneaked through the encampment and disposed of those guards who wandered off to relieve themselves or who were lead away by the tricks of the guards. In the end there were no more than five left in the tent where the majority of light came from; with a steely expression on his face he armed his bow and looked at the blood on his hands. He thought to himself how easy it had become to kill, without mercy, or even a sense of guilt, not just orcs, but even men, whose only claim to evil was that the Dark Lord had come to them first before they knew anything of Elves or of the Powers in the West.
With an intake of air he thrust his way into the tent and there were few shouts as all five remaining guards were silenced within a few short minutes each with an arrow stuck in their throat or chest. He stepped out into the darkness, wiping the blood on his hands upon the tent, he looked up toward the pillar's peak and sent out a low whistle. A head peaked out and with his elf ears he heard low voices hold a silent conversation, then he saw small figures begin to descend the rope the elf and young man had left behind. The first to descend was Tal-ano, who with a smile greeted the elf and said,
"My men will descend first and secure the passage, then the womenfolk shall descend and make their way to the other pillar."
"There is a sheer drop beyond that pillar, they could make a run to the North, any pursuit would be made difficult."
"Perhaps stranger, but right now our defense is paramount to any escape. Escape draws far too much attention and I will not give up my father's land…not yet."
The elf nodded as Tal-ano sent his men to scout the enemy, wearing the garb of the recently slain guards of the dark city. Others took supplies from the tent and made their way to the pillar in the distance, where the young man waited to take in the refugees. Celebrin meanwhile took the horses and set them free upon the plain, heading in the direction of the river to the East. He gathered the water store that the encampment had and placed it into skins for the women to take to the new refuge. As he left the stable he saw a figure approach him, the figure walked with an uncertain confidence, as though she was wary of ever exerting any power though she had plenty within her. Cidhrali smiled as she approached the elf, silently he gave her the skins and said,
"These are for you and your people. It is water from the stables, but I doubt that matters much now."
"Thank you…You speak well for someone who just learned our tongue."
"Well, it is easy, when it is all I hear."
Even in that time of urgency the woman laughed and her smile pierced the elf's thoughts, it had been months since he was heard laughter, in Lorien in what seemed to be an age ago. As he opened his mouth to say more, a horn was heard and a great cry went out from the crowd of refugees as flames began to bite the darkness of the distance. They had been found… those unfit to fight scrambled back up the rope or ran to the other pillar. Others, Tal-ano and his men, and a few maidens who brandished swords or bows stood between those running and the line of approaching fire. The elf quickly ran to Tal-ano's side and drew his sword, which shimmered in the fire's light; the line began to march toward them with a thunderous din of feet and clashing steel. Those who stood against this wave were ill armed and ill guarded, yet still they stood, and the elf admired their courage. Allatar and Pallando, the two blue wizards, held steady their staves; it was at this moment that Allatar spoke,
"Should we not reveal ourselves now? It seems like the best time."
"Not yet, we have already let the Valaroma sound once in the East. We have but one last time to do so…we must be smart about this brother."
"And if we fail this night? What hope then is left?"
"We will not fail…Behold, Arien peaks her head even amidst this darkness."
And to the eyes of Allatar the East began to blaze forth in deep purple and brilliant gold, and thunder was heard from above them, yet it was not the sound of drum or the crash of metal. This low rumble rent through the entire sky and with a crash stroke the ground in a brilliant flash. At first none knew if it was a device of the Enemy, yet fear was written in the faces of the foes before them, the lightning was indeed unexpected and a great wind came down from the mountain followed by another crash of resounding thunder. Then in the Northwest a different horn was heard followed by shouts in a language that the elf had never before heard, a cry of fear came from the enemy before him and then as they dispersed a cavalry broke through the line of fire and began to slay the enemy in fierce unrelenting haste. Tal-ano gave a cry of victory and he ran head first toward the battle, followed by his men and the armed women. Celebrin barely processed all that was happening when he realized he too was running toward the battle and that his own heart jumped with fiery zeal.
As the enemy was dispersed and fled into the oncoming morning a great thunderous roar came from above them and for the first time in his life Celebrin saw what many had called a mumakil, towering before him. The creature stood hundreds of feet tall and like a great moving mountain was propped up on four tree thick limbs. Its hue was gray as though it was made of moving stone, and its two gleaming white tusks jutted down toward the ground and curved to form two pale white crescent moons. It was both frightening and wondrous, for never before and never after would human or elvish eyes see a creature of such size and majesty.
It bore a smoking fire upon its back, yet as the thunder and lightning crashed around it the creature became frightened and ran from the storm and battle. With it went the unnatural darkness that had engulfed the area for the storm's wind pushed out the thick black smoke that issued from a device upon the back of the mumakil. The orcs amidst the enemy ran in fear of the rising sun, and followed the mumakil, not caring that with every step the creature trampled them. The men of the enemy's banner who stayed were slaughtered by those upon horses and the few who escaped told the frightening tale of the army of the mountains who brought with them the rain and smote thunder from their bows. In the end of the battle, as a light rain fell upon them, many stood rejoicing in their unexpected victory, others ran to the pillars to tell their loved ones to rejoin them upon the plain. Tal-ano found the elf and with laughter in his voice he greeted him, yet the elf wore worry upon his face, the cavalry who now began to surround them wore frightening masks upon their faces and they still had their swords and spears drawn in the semblance of battle. Slowly silence followed and an uneasy peace remained for a short time. Then a rider came forth, wearing black robes, he had a shorn head and wore a necklace made of green stones and bone. Tal-ano's father looked very different from the way he had been before, this new chieftan seemed changed, fiercer, stronger, and more sorrowful. He descended and greeted his people, as they crowded around him he raised his hands and they fell silent. To them he spoke,
"My people, our brothers, the tribes of the raven and the crow, the tribes of the wolf and the stag have come to our aide. We can no longer remain here in the open fields of our ancestors, nor by the golden river, who gave us life. The Dark One will indeed be angry for his defeat and will seek us out. Go back to our village, and find what possessions you still have. Gather your families and follow your chieftains, for we go west and north into our brother's lands, into the mountains, and forge a new life for ourselves!"
Silently the people dispersed and regrouped in small family units, then each unit gathered around a single chieftain and for the first time Celebrin saw how many tribes made up Cidhrali's people. In total there were seven smaller tribes, Cidhrali's being the largest; the elf would in time come to know each one by their name and people, Cidhrali's people called themselves the Enasazhi, the next largest group were called the Hupazune. The others were called, the Manan, the Ashtegu, the Gree, the Enga and the Irogui. As they grouped the elf saw the Chief pull his son aside and speak with him in a low whisper, at first Tal-ano wore a worried expression then what was once a joyous face of victory became one of sadness, and then obligatory agreement. Cidhrali stood by the elf silently and then asked him,
"My people know where they are going stranger…where will you go now? Back to the West? Or further East, where they say the river meets the end of the world?"
"I can go no further on my own…I shall follow my companions, as I promised I would."
And with that the fate of Uial Celebrin joined that of the people in the East, for Allatar and Pallando joined the elders and sages of Jzathi-ma-ala and into the North and West they went and Celebrin became a guard under Tal-ano's command through the journey into the mountains. For four days the exiles journeyed, and Tal-ano grew more and more silent as they approached the lands of the Crow tribe. There he opened his mind to the elf as they slept beneath the stars. And there the elf learned of the reason why the tribes of the Crow, Wolf, Raven and Stag had come to their aid. In his urgency to save his people Tal-ano's father had brokered a marriage contract with the Chief of the Crow tribe. Tal-ano would remain behind and marry the Chief's daughter, and would be severed from his people as was the custom of the Crow people. Celebrin could say nothing to assuage the sorrow in Tal-ano's heart, nor could his sister bring an end to his grief, for the man Tal-ano fought for the freedom of his people and was denied the pleasure of enjoying it himself.
His people left him in the lands of the Crow tribe, yet as time would draw on he would find happiness in fatherhood and pride in this new alliance of a strong people with that of his father. And the lands in which Cidhrali's people stayed were sheltered from attack by high red stone mountains where plenty of game and food could be gathered. And as time drew on Celebrin, the elf of Doriath found a place among the people, for his keen sight and hearing made him a formidable hunter and he learned much of herb lore and healing from Jzathi-ma-ala, and they in turn learned much about the lore of herb and wood from him.
Allatar and Pallando traveled amongst the separate tribes, learning of their lore and telling them much of the Powers of the West. They grew in stature and position, much to the dislike of the elf, for they considered him less and less and spoke less often to him than they used to. They seemed to enjoy the attention the people gave them, a reaction that Celebrin agreed with little, and he went no more to them for guidance or to converse about their mission in the East, something which he had only guessed at. A friendship grew between Cidhrali and the elf, who had begun to be called Cucuopeylley and Getsucuatil, by the Cidhrali's people. But the chief's daughter herself called him Cedlal, which was her word for twilight and any who came to know him more intimately called him such.
Four years had passed since they had first met and six since he began his journey in the East from the shores of Mithlond; a great feast was held for the birth of Tal-ano's second child, a son, who would inherit the Chieftainship of his grandfather. In the night as a celebratory fire stood lit, the woman Cidhrali, now 22 years of age, walked up to Celebrin and said,
"Come dance with me Cedlal! Do not look so sad to be here."
"I am not sad, just thinking, find someone else to dance with! I have no feet worth dancing with."
As she pressed him, he stood at last and walked away excusing himself, she pursued him and took hold of his shoulder,
"What bothers you now? Whenever there is a feast you shy away from joy and hide in darkness!"
"I will not be chided for my actions! Leave me be, I will not dance with you! Find another younger man to do it."
"This isn't about dancing Cedlal! Why do you always run away?"
In this moment Celebrin looked upon the face of Cidhrali and saw for a brief moment Celebrian staring fiercly back at him, and the voice of Alphindil ringing through his mind. Upset he turned his face from the woman and, filling up with anger, he said,
"Leave me be woman!"
Cidhrali lifted her hand to where his scar lay upon his cheek and she touched it lightly, yet under his skin a fire burned at her touch and pushing her violently away he strode off into the distance, while blood began to pour out of the ancient wound.
He found solace in a nearby riverbed, where high bushes grew and hid him from sight; he touched the cool water, and drank from it, finding refreshment in its clear sweet unjudging caress. He looked to the stars and marked their position, knowing what it meant and what day it marked in his memory. He removed his clothing and walked into the river letting the water surround him and cool his temper. The sound of a twig breaking made him turn and before him stood Cidhrali, her hair unbraided and lying upon her shoulders, she had already removed her own clothes, yet this did not bother the elf, for in the hot summer months it was common for these people to go unclothed and bathe amongst each other. What surprised him rather was that he had never before seen her body, which at first glance looked smooth and unblemished. Yet as the moonlight caught it, scars revealed themselves upon her hips, her back and even between her thighs. They were deep and old scars that had been made many years ago by knives, fists, and whips. As she walked into the river they disappeared beneath the reflected sheen of moonlight and he spoke,
"Many centuries ago, on this night, my parents died. By our own kin our country was destroyed and our people dispersed. As we took shelter in the capital city, my father stood in the defense of our people; I was so eager to fight by his side I left my mother and ran onto the battlefield looking for him. I found him and he grew angry with me, he pulled me back behind our defenses and ordered me to go back. When he did this an arrow wounded him. He ran back into battle and was slain by the sword of our kin, his head hewn from his body. My mother went mad with grief and she ran onto the field of battle and took up his sword and returned to the citadel of our capital. She left me in the care of a maiden and took up my father's place, defending our lands, in my foolishness I followed her and saw her slain by three arrows with my own eyes. The scar upon my cheek was made when I ran into the heat of battle in a violent rage, a child among my people, but none could stop me then, I survived and closed myself off to a world that I no longer wished to be a part of…Many years later I let my heart open to another, and only he could touch that same scar as you did…with tenderness and warmth. He showed me how to live again, and eventually how to live with those whose actions destroyed my home.
In the end he was wounded himself, and instead of finding strength in me as I had in him he fled, leaving me alone and scaring the cold heart I had once closed off to the world. When you touched it, a burning rose in my heart, and I was reminded of those who left me…I don't…I don't want to add you to that list, Cidhrali, I don't want to blame you for tearing another wound in my heart. Please, just leave me be…that's what I came into the East for, to be away from those memories…to be away from the very thing that tears at my being."
Then the elf turned away to retrieve his clothes yet was held back by the slight touch of the woman behind him, he turned to face her and she took his hand an placed it upon a scar on her shoulder,
"Many years ago, I loved a man named Zochidhru, when we married he was 16 and I was 14. My brother, Tohopka, rebelled against my father and mother and joined the army of the Dark One, and with him went my husband and many more of our young men, for the Dark One promised them gold, power and great fame. From all around they flocked to him some learning how to do great magic, others becoming great warriors in battles with distant lands. I followed my brother and husband and for a while we were happy and very wealthy. I had gold jewelry so heavy I had sit just to wear it. Then our good fortunes changed, the wars in distant lands failed and the city was flooded with people, it became harder and harder for my husband to keep us wealthy. And I never complained as he took my jewelry and my fine clothes, and even as he changed our homes and smiled less, I loved him still.
He took to drinking and brothels, and still I stayed for the child I carried in my womb and for the shame I would bring if I fled back home. Then one day he came to our home, in a blind, drunken and jealous rage and he tore me from my bed and with his knife tore at my flesh, accusing me of having a child that was not his. My brother came, hearing the shouts from his home above us, he fought Zochidhru and slew him. He then took me to his home and cared for me until I was well enough to move about on my own…The child within me died, and with it the part of me that kept me in that forsaken city. When I was well enough to move on my own I left my brother's home and shamed woman and fled back to my mother's people, there my father took me in again…
We have both been scared Cedlal, by those whom we loved…I live every day with my scars on the outside of my body, and you…you live with them forever inside, the only sign of your sorrow is that small scar upon your cheek. I show you tenderness because no other has looked at me as you do…To my people I am a woman defined by my father or by my brothers and husband, but to you I am not…in your gaze I feel…stronger than I ever had been, in your eyes I am the woman I became when I lifted your sword and faced that shadow, years ago and …I never want to become that slave girl ever again."
As tears welled up in her eyes Cidhrali ceased speaking and looked down into the water, and for the first time Celebrin did not feel shame or anger, he did not feel sorrow or pity. And then he felt something running down his own cheek and moved to wipe the blood away, yet as he looked at his fingers he did not see blood but the remnants of a tear. He gave out a slight chuckle as he looked once again into the eyes of Cidhrali and found in them not childish admiration but the most honest expression of…joy. For once he did not feel guilty for his joy as he had years before and as she enclosed him in her arms he felt young again, as though the centuries that separated them were nothing more than minor moments in life. Despite the caution in his mind and the many warnings the wise among the elves had given against the mingling of men and elves he bent his neck to where her face peered up at him and placed his quivering lips upon her own. And for a brief moment his heart skipped a beat and he felt her own beat match his and they held each other closer allowing the cold desert air to envelop them in the mist of the early morn. And for an eternity they held one another and their beating hearts hummed as one; the music of the earth harmonized in that brief fleeting instant and then ended as quickly as it had begun. She pulled away and walked into the enveloping darkness, her clothes left behind upon the sandy shore. And he looked up into the stars and wept for the breaking of his cold heart beneath the piercing rays of the waxing moon.
Gasp!!!! Hopefully I kept that last scene respectable. Originally it was left rather ambiguous and i feared people would draw the wrong conclusions about Mr. Uial
Zochidru- fictional name inspired by the Nahuatl word for flower, Xochtil.