Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1
A/N: I'm so sorry for the long delay, I moved to Michigan and started a new job, you know, that kind of thing, but I should be updating more regularly now. For those still sticking with me, I love you all!
Chapter 7: Somewhere Very Far Away
Celeborn mounted the stairs anxiously, his chest tight with fear. Where was she? It was not like her to cower in their chambers, although that is what he hoped she had done. For years, for centuries, no creature of darkness had been within the city walls. Her power, and the power of her ring had seen to that. Celeborn dared not imagine what had changed.
He paused, glancing with narrowed eyes at a dead orc pinned by a farming tool to the thick bark of the mallorn. Celeborn eased around the corpse and took the stairs two at a time, a new urgency in his steps as he heard no movement above him, nothing.
"Galadriel?" he called, hearing the panic in his own voice. The throne room, her sitting room, the washroom, all were empty. He went finally to their bedroom, and stopped dead at what he saw.
Galadriel was sprawled on the floor, the flowing train of her gown tangled around her legs, her hair splayed about her. She did not look up, for a moment he feared she did not breathe.
"Galadriel," he gasped, dropping to his knees beside her. As he turned her over and drew her into his lap, he saw that her nose was bleeding, her eyes squeezed shut as if a great pain plagued her. He drew the edge of his sleeve gently over her face, wiping away the blood. "Galadriel?" he said again, his voice nearly a whimper, and he knew at that moment he would give his very soul to see the pure blue of her eyes gazing up at him.
And, in a single flash of goodness among all the darkness and doubt, his wish was granted, Galadriel's eyes snapping open to stare upon him. She lifted her hand weakly, brushing it across his jaw, trying to smooth away the tension she saw there. It baffled her for a moment, why he was looking at her with such open fear, but then her limp hand dropped, dabbing at the blood on her upper lip. It was then that she remembered.
A single sob shook Galadriel and Celeborn gathered her to him, pressing his face into her gleaming hair. For the briefest instant, Galadriel allowed herself the luxury of his embrace, burrowing her face against his chest. But, then she turned from him, struggling to her feet and straightening her clothes. Her steps were unsteady, jerky as she went to her balcony. She did not go outside, simply gripped the door and leaned into it.
"He was inside my mind, the Wraith. He overpowered me, I could not keep the barrier up. I could not keep them out of our lands."
"How-how could that be?" Celeborn stuttered.
"I do not know," Galadriel's response was little more than a whisper, "The will of the Dark Lord drives him on. I was not prepared for it. But, they will be back, of that I am sure." She glanced back at Celeborn, her normally cool eyes troubled. "I felt his determination, and felt his indignation when you wounded his mount. If for nothing more than pride, he will raise another force and he will be back."
Celeborn went to her, rubbing one of his large hands up and down her back as he could find no words. Galadriel turned to him, dropping her head to his shoulder, hoping he could stay for just a moment before he returned to his duties as a warrior. But, she felt the sigh that shuddered up his chest and knew he would go even before he drew away.
"Will you be all right?" he asked simply.
Galadriel nodded, watching his stiff back as he left their bedroom. He paused at the door, casting his deep blue eyes back at her one last time, "You should rest. Please, I will take care of what needs attention outside this door. You...you just rest."
He knew she would not. But, he said it anyway.
Haldir and his men overtook a group of the retreating orcs and fell upon them like a wave. Birds fluttered from the trees with screeches of surprise as clashing metal rang through the air. His men showed no fatigue, no fear, but he knew it was there. That only made him more proud of them all, that they fought on through adversity.
A few orcs at the edges broke away, hoping to disappear into the forest, but were cut down by the archers. Haldir brought his sword down on the chest of an orc, feeling the blade cut through the leather armor and tear through flesh. As the orc crumpled before him, Haldir glanced beyond it. He could see his brother, Orophin, surrounded by several orcs. He watched in helpless terror as one orc drew his scimitar across Orophin's side. The elf fell, stunned, dropping to the leaf-littered earth. Another orc stepped up, slamming a club into Orophin's leg. The crack of snapping bone seemed to echo through the trees, and shook Haldir to his very core. As the orc lifted the club again, aiming this time for Orophin's spine, Haldir's dagger whipped across the distance and tore into the orc's throat. A few more arrows sang between the trees and it was over, the orcs were scattered in sprawled heaps around them.
Haldir sprinted to his brother, nearly stumbling over the strewn corpses, eyes wide with fear. He fell at Orophin's side, turning the elf over with trembling hands. No. No, he wouldn't lose him. Not now.
"Findor!" he called, hoping the healer still lived.
Orophin was looking up at him with those wise green eyes and managed to twist his whitened lips into a grin. "Calm down, brother. You look like you're going to faint."
How can you joke? Haldir wanted to scream, but somehow dredged up a smile of his own.
"Don't you worry about me. I've seen a lot worse than this little scratch you've got."
He dared to glance at the long gash even now dripping blood onto the dull green mosses below them. Haldir paled a few more shades, looking up desperately for Findor. Suddenly, the elf was before him, giving instructions in his calm, even voice. Haldir followed them unthinkingly, pressing his cloak into Orophin's wound to try to stop the bleeding. He looked down with hopeless horror as blood soaked through the material and seeped between his fingers. Haldir's glassy eyes were jerked away by the sound of tearing cloth. As Orophin's pant leg was tossed aside, Haldir nearly wretched at the sight of the jaggedly broken piece of bone poking through the skin of Orophin's thigh. He looked back to Orophin's face, watching it tighten as Findor probed the break, but he did not cry out, did not squirm. By the Valar, he is strong.
Orophin met his gaze then, and Haldir saw that although his body was still, a mindless pain filled his eyes. Haldir would have done anything, given all he had at that moment to take that pain from his brother. But, he could not even take his hand, for he had to staunch the bleeding on his side. For one terrible instant, Orophin's eyes pleaded with Haldir to make it stop, begged his brother to protect him as he had when they were children. His eyes slipped shut, and as Findor set the broken bone, he arched his back and let out a howl that seemed to shake the very earth.
Silraen quietly entered the darkened armory. For a panicked moment, Halnorel was nowhere to be seen. "Halnorel?" she called, her voice quaking. With great hesitation, the child finally crawled out from below a shelf. Wordlessly, Silraen dropped to her knees in front of her daughter and drew her into her arms. For many minutes, she just held the girl, kissing her hair and trying to calm her still wild heartbeat. Finally, Halnorel whimpered and Silraen knew she was scaring the child by being so emotional. It was time to be strong again.
Silraen pulled back, plastering a watery smile on her lips. "Let's go see if we can't find your brother and sister and grandmother."
"They're dead, surely they are," Halnorel wailed, "The fire burned them up."
"No, honey, look, it is raining. The rain put out the fire. I'm sure they are out there looking for us too."
Halnorel sniffled and nodded. They emerged into the drizzling rain together. The soldiers were already lowering elves down on ropes from the tree. Silraen and Halnorel reached them just as Taurnan was brought down in the arms of one of Haldir's warriors. As soon as they reached the ground, the boy struggled from his grasp and ran to his mother. Silraen kneeled and gathered him to her, squeezing both of the children tight. As she drew away, Taurnan stared at Halnorel's beaten face in open agony. With characteristic impulsiveness, Taurnan hugged his sister, tears springing anew in his eyes.
"I am sorry you fell. I grabbed for you, but I could not hold you. I am too small."
"It's all right," whispered Halnorel, "You tried your best."
"My lady, you are injured," a voice broke into Silraen's vigil over the poignant moment between her children. Her troubled blue eyes met his, "I am all right, Thellendur. Where is Haldir?"
"He is leading the chase after the remaining orcs. They were few and could not have gotten far. I am sure he will return soon."
Silraen nodded and turned to scan the growing number of shaken and sobbing elves being brought down from the flets above her. Finally, Silraen saw Miradhel rushing toward her. She was babbling apologies as she fell toward Silraen. Silraen hugged her, trying to comfort the distraught elf. Silraen pulled away and saw that Danuriel was cradled reverently in Miradhel's arms.
"She didn't cry," Miradhel said in awe, "Not through any of it. Not a sound."
"She has a peaceful soul," Silraen whispered, staring into the shining, serene eyes peering out from a soot-stained blanket, "I envy her."
Haldir tightened his grip on the handles of the litter that bore his brother. As he entered the city, the acrid sting of smoke and quiet moans of the injured immediately assaulted his senses. In the charged atmosphere at the end of the battle, he had had no time to take stock of the damage to the city. He was now nearly driven to his knees by the devastation and ruin all around him. The shame of failing to protect his home washed over Haldir in searing waves. But, he refused to surrender to self-pity, hoping there was some way to salvage something from this tragedy. He would not falter again.
A cluster of elves was gathered at the foot of one of the mallorn, healers scurrying between their various charges. Haldir and Findor carefully set Orophin among them.
"Don't jostle me, you big oaf," Orophin scolded and Haldir rolled his eyes.
"If you have such a problem with how I carry you, you can walk."
Several harried female healers brushed Haldir aside and closed in about his brother. Findor drew him aside, quietly assuring, "He will be all right, I think. His wound looks worse than it is. But, his leg will take long to heal. He will not fight again in this war."
Haldir gazed over Findor's shoulder at where Orophin lay, flirting with one of the healers. It would not be the same without him. Although Rumil was a fierce swordsman and a fiery fighter, Orophin was a strategist. His mind was always at work. Haldir's army would be much less effective without him.
Haldir hoped vainly that Silraen had had the sense to come here and have her wounds tended, but she was nowhere in sight. Haldir started into the city in search of her. He caught one of his men and ordered, "Find whichever of my lieutenants that you can and have them convene in the Council chamber in the Great Mallorn."
The elf nodded and veered off to carry out this task. Haldir picked his way around smoldering tree limbs and orc corpses. He stopped to assist with the injured when it was asked of him, but his eyes ever roved the faces around him for a select few. Finally, he spotted them.
Sitting on the damp grass next to a mossy stone fountain was his family. Miradhel sat on the fountain's edge, the children gathered around her. Rumil was beside her, with Linaya sitting silently at his feet, her head on his knee. One of her hands was clutched protectively to the rounded bulge of her pregnant stomach. Rumil was watching over them all with sad eyes, periodically making faces at the baby.
As Haldir approached them, he struggled to hide a slight limp. He had been thrown down by an unusually quick orc and his hip now throbbed from the impact. If it had not been for the help of a young soldier, who had killed the orc before it could deal a fatal blow, Haldir would surely be limping into the Halls of Mandos right now.
Taurnan spotted him first and scrambled down from the fountain. His short legs churned as he ran for Haldir. Haldir kneeled and gathered his son to him, feeling his small body shake with sobs.
"Daddy," Taurnan whimpered.
"I'm here, Taurnan, I'm here." He stopped himself before he could tell his son that everything was all right. Because everything was not all right. Instead, Haldir lifted Taurnan into his arms and the little boy tucked his face against Haldir's neck. Rumil rose stiffly and went to meet his older brother. Rumil had a deep cut along his hairline and a bruise forming below one bright blue eye. He shifted his shoulders in his heavy armor, the plates of gold metal engraved with leaves clattering as he moved. Rumil could not help but raise a hand to rub Taurnan's thin back, hoping to give comfort to his frightened nephew.
"Where is Orophin?" he asked. Haldir looked down, drawing in a slow breath. Rumil's face clouded, "What?" When Haldir hesitated, Rumil's alarm grew. He struggled to keep his voice down, so that their mother would not hear, "What has happened?"
"He has been injured," Haldir finally explained, "His leg is badly broken, but he will live."
Rumil ground his jaw, nodding in silent relief. "How are they?" Haldir asked.
"Frightened. Confused. The healers looked at Halnorel's face and she will be all right. She is very brave."
Haldir smiled sadly, handing his son to Rumil. He went around him to the fountain, looking down at his eldest child. Halnorel looked haunted and exhausted in a way no child should. He brushed his hand carefully over her blond head, but she did not look up. She did not even seem aware of his presence. He met his mother's eyes nervously, then turned away.
"Rumil, I am sorry to take you away from your wife, but I am conferring with my lieutenants in the Council Chamber soon. I could use your thoughts on what we must do now."
Rumil nodded quickly. Haldir was about to turn away, but asked suddenly, "Where is Silraen?"
"I have not seen her. She may be helping the healers."
Haldir nodded thoughtfully and swept his gaze one last time over his family. They looked so completely vulnerable, so broken. In a moment of striking clarity, Haldir knew what had to be done.
Celeborn leaned against the back wall of the large airy room, watching soldiers shuffle in. They were bedraggled and disheartened, and he knew the order Haldir was about to give would do little to improve morale. Celeborn felt a small twinge of guilt at leaving Haldir to speak to the warriors while he lurked in the back, but this was Haldir's plan, and Celeborn felt as downtrodden as all around him. If Haldir would speak to them, then he would let him.
Haldir met Celeborn's gaze from the front of the room and Celeborn nodded. He did not have to call for quiet, for already a thick silence hung in the air. Where he stood before a great carven balcony, the open doors behind him gave all a view of a smoldering walkway and charred, naked branches around it. Haldir cleared his throat.
"Galadrim. I know the turmoil that is in your hearts. We have all lost some of our faith in goodness, we have felt the sting of the malice that spreads through these lands. We have all lost friends and fellow soldiers today. But, we have not the time to mourn them."
A few heads shot up at his proclamation and they looked quizzically at the Captain.
"The living must act now, we must move swiftly to secure the safety of those we love. This attack was only the first wave, it is our belief that another assault is imminent." Haldir drew in a deep breath, holding the eyes of his soldiers one by one until finally he said, "We must empty Caras Galadhon. The women, children and the wounded will be sent into hiding. Those who can fight will make one final stand to give them time to escape."
Shocked murmurs rippled through the room. It was Rumil, Haldir's own brother, who spoke first. "Surely you are not serious. We should not allow them to drive us from our homes. If we are to fall, I want Linaya at my side, that we could meet this fate together."
Haldir steadily met Rumil's indignant eyes, "If Linaya wanted to make that choice, it is hers to make. But, your unborn child is not able to choose. My Danuriel, she cannot choose. And I will not be responsible for sealing her fate. There is a chance that they can escape and live to see an end to these times and I will not let that chance slip through my fingers."
Rumil's conviction had wavered at the mention of his child, but he stood and spoke again, "Then send the children and those with child away, but let those who would stay do so." Several other voices chimed in in agreement.
Haldir shook his head immediately, "Rumil, can Linaya wield a sword? Fight hand to hand? Elenhir, what about your wife, can she break an orc's neck? No? I didn't think so. We will never be able to defeat our enemies if we must always be protecting those who cannot fight. No, if one goes, they all go."
Elenhir, his face twisted in displeasure, called out, "If all men who can fight will stand in the city and only the innocents are to leave, then who will lead them?"
Haldir's proud chin went up a notch, "Silraen."
Several elves shot to their feet and began to argue the choice. But, to Haldir's relief, Thellendur also rose. Barking over the din, he said, "He's right. He's right." All eyes turned on the seasoned warrior, "It must be Silraen. I have heard that she took up arms against the orcs and rallied elves to fight the fire in the east tree. She fought bravely on though she was injured."
Haldir continued, "She is a Mirkwood elf. She is an experienced fighter and knows the wilds better than anyone in this room, even Celeborn and myself. If there is anyone who can lead them to safety, it is Silraen. It is the only way."
Haldir scanned the room, finding no more defiance among his men. As his gaze rested on Rumil, his brother sighed and looked up. With a simple nod, it was settled.
When Haldir finally found Silraen, she was standing at the edge of the orchards. Haldir's steps faltered as he looked at the landscape before him. All that remained of the beautiful fruit trees was smoking black skeletons, twisted masses of dying flame. The once green hills now rolled into the distance as a scorched blemish on the earth.
Haldir approached carefully, not knowing what to say. No one had seen her for nearly an hour, and he wondered briefly if this is where she had been that whole time, rooted to this spot in disbelief.
"Silraen?" he said, and watched as one fat tear rolled down through the grime on her face, leaving a small trail of clean skin in its wake. It was several seconds before she turned to him, and her eyes flashed with surprise, as if she had not known he was there. "Silraen, I'm sorry," he whispered. The gray smoke curling from the dead trees swirled around her, weaving a thin web around her still form.
She blinked several times, then sighed, her shoulders drooping a full foot with the exhalation. "I will..." she sighed again, "I will replant. They will grow again. It may take another sixty years, but I have that time."
"Replanting may have to wait, Silraen."
Silraen narrowed her eyes, confusion filling her face. It was Haldir's turn to sigh. "We must talk."
Haldir took her hand, leading her to one of the ancient stone walls that snaked around the orchards. He gripped her waist and lifted her onto it. The wall was only waist high, and he was able to look her in the eye. She gazed up at him expectantly. He studied her face in the sunlight, brushing a pale lock of hair away from the ugly black stitches crossing her forehead. She looked tired and small and Haldir's assurance wavered. How could he lay this burden on her shoulders, how could he send her into such peril? How could he ask this of her? He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing there was no other way.
"Silraen, you were so brave today. Many elves owe their lives to you. But, there is something you still must do."
Silraen had gone very still, her blue eyes cautious, but she did not look away. The grimness in Haldir's voice grated on her ears.
"Celeborn and I have decided to send the women, the children, and the injured away...send them away until it is safe. And you are to lead them. Take them far away...somewhere you know from your travels...you must know of a place..."
Silraen had been shaking her head emphatically, her lips parted in surprise. "No. No, Haldir, this is madness. I cannot do this, surely one of your warriors knows the land, would be a better choice than I."
Haldir looked down, his lips pressed together, the sunlight glinting off of his disheveled blond hair. When his eyes met hers again, they were pained, pleading. "It must be you, Silraen. Please."
"Then I will take them to Mirkwood. Thranduil would not turn us away, my brother serves in his army."
Haldir hesitated, but finally said, "I have received word that Thranduil's people are under attack too. It is no safer there than here."
Silraen blanched, thinking of her mother and brother. Was her brother fighting even now in defense of Greenwood? Was he already dead? The tears that had begun upon finding her orchards destroyed threatened to spring anew in her eyes, but she tamped down her panic, focusing again on Haldir.
Haldir lifted his hand to her face, gently brushing his thumb over her cheekbone in the way he knew she liked. She tipped her face further into his palm.
"Take them somewhere hidden, somewhere very far away. Tell no one where you mean to go, not even me. I will find you when this is all over."
Silraen's eyes dropped closed, and for a moment she looked old, as old as the soil beneath her fingernails, as old as the stones on which she sat. And, with some reluctance, she nodded.
Huge thanks to my reviewers: Puxinette, Tigerlily, Moonbunny77, and Erewyn