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Haldir looked over the gathered soldiers in front of him. They were ready to march for war. Their faces were stoic, their eyes cold and their shoulders straight.
With a pleased nod, Haldir turned to face his Lord and Lady. "We are ready," he said, and Galadriel took a step forward, looking over her proud Elves, knowing that many would not return, for such was the price of war.
Such was the price of freedom.
"My brave soldiers," she spoke, her voice carried by the wind. "Men may have forgotten the old Alliances, but we have not." The early morning air lightened as the Sun broke through high canopies of Caras Galadhon, its rays touching the gold strands of Lady Galadriel's hair and her Ring shone on her elegant hand as power danced around her. "We have not forgotten the old Alliances and we shall honor them now as we did during the last Dark Age. On this day you march to war. Many of you will not come back. Blood shall be spilled. Tears shall be shed. But you shall not falter!"
Every Elf in front of them raised his or hers respective head and they gazed upon their Lady for what could be the last time.
"May the Valar watch over you! May your blades be sharp! May your shields hold strong and arrows fly straight! May our Enemy feel fear at the sound of our horns!" Galadriel raised her head as the Sun rose in the sky and a wave of power spread through Lothlórien and beyond. "Now you march to war! Stand tall! Stand proud, my Sons and Daughters! May the Stars light your path! May the Sun give you strength and may the Moon watch over you!"
As one, the proud army of Elves cheered the name of their Lady and Lord.
Haldir took a step forward and Galadriel smiled at him. "Fight well, Haldir. May you be victorious," she spoke and took a step back as Haldir looked over the Army of Lothlórien, raising his sword with a mighty call.
"Lamya rombir! Triallalye ten'Rohan!" (Sound the horns! We march for Rohan!)
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Ruth woke up with a start and looked at the sky. His heart was beating quickly in his chest and his breath was coming out in short gasps. Orion neighed and nudged his huge head against Ruth's.
"I am well, Orion," Ruth whispered. "Come, we must go." He stood up and with a wave of his hand cleaned up his camp. He mounted Orion's back and looked at the horizon.
A red sun was rising.
More blood has been spilled that night.
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Boromir sighed as he walked out on the balcony of his room. He and his company arrived to Rivendell last night without many problems. They traveled quickly, stopping for rest only when they truly needed it.
This morning he woke up with a strange feeling in his guts. He could not understand what it was, but it could mean nothing good.
A Red Dawn could mean nothing good.
"You are troubled, young Boromir."
The Gondorian turned around when Lord Elrond's voice came from behind him. "You cannot tell me that you do not feel it, My Lord," Boromir said and Elrond sighed heavily.
"I can." He walked over to stand beside Boromir and both looked down where Luinil and Viresse sparred in the courtyard of Rivendell. "A war is on the Horizon. I have sent messengers to the Dúnedain. They shall join the war as well."
"Any news from Lady Galadriel?" Boromir asked.
"Ruthímiel the Green left the Forest yesterday morning. He rides for Rohan, for Sauron will strike there first. Rohan is weak. King Théoden has fallen into the Shadow. He must be brought back, or the war shall be lost before it even starts."
"And Master Radagast?" Boromir asked after he swallowed over the lump of fear that appeared in his throat when Elrond mentioned Ruth riding out alone.
"He has managed to find the Ents. He is in the process of talking to them. There are rumors…" Elrond hesitated, a frown marring the chiseled features of the Lord of Rivendell. "Rumors of a White Wizard in the Fangorn Forest."
"Saruman." Boromir spat out the name of the Wizard as though it were poison.
Elrond hummed and looked at the horizon. "It might be," he spoke and Boromir looked at him with a confused frown.
"Is there another?" Boromir asked and Elrond sighed.
"I do not know. The Shadow has spread too far. My Sight has dimmed. Soon I shall not be able to see anything."
Boromir frowned and looked at the courtyard again only to see that Luinil and Viresse were no longer there. "What about the Sword?"
"I shall have it reforged," Elrond confirmed, clasping callused hands in his front. "Once it is finished, I ask for you to bring it to Aragorn yourself."
"Why me?" Boromir asked, because he had thought that Lord Elrond would send one of his Elves to complete the task at hand.
"You are the future Steward of Gondor, Boromir," Elrond said. "You shall see the Return of the King." With that Elrond turned his back on Boromir and walked into the room.
Viresse bowed at the Elven Lord as he passed her and she looked at Boromir once he was gone.
"My Lady." Boromir bowed at her as she joined him beside the railing.
"We have traveled together for a month, Lord Boromir," she spoke with a small smile. "I do believe that formalities can be forsaken at this point."
Boromir chuckled and leaned his hip against the railing, crossing strong arms over his chest and facing the Elven maiden while she rested her hands on the railing gazing at the distant horizon.
"And yet you still address me so formally," he said and she shot him a sideways glance.
"Forgive me," she answered, lips tilted in a smirk. "I shall stop if you agree to stop as well."
"Very well, Viresse." She smiled at him. "How has your practice with Luinil gone?"
"Very well." She nodded, shoulder straightening with pride. "We have both gotten better, although we both miss our lessons with our Lady. We have discovered recently that we can use Magic. I am afraid that our skill is still lacking."
Boromir raised an eyebrow at that. "If I learned anything in the past months it is that nothing can be rushed. You are Elves; not Istari. As much as I understand, it is extremely rare for Elves to be able to wield magic at all."
"You are correct. It is very rare. Beside Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond, only Luinil and I and a few others can wield it," she said and blushed under Boromir's warm gaze.
"I am sure that once this war is over Lady Galadriel will continue teaching you. I have no doubt that Ruth will be willing to help you as well," Boromir said and her gaze saddened at the sight of shadow of worry crossing Boromir's eyes at the mention of the Green Istar.
"You miss him that much," she concluded and Boromir scoffed.
"I miss him like I miss my brother, Faramir." He raised an eyebrow when he heard her surprised 'oh'. "You didn't think..."
"No! Heavens, no!" she blurted out, but her blush betrayed her embarrassment, eyes widening when Boromir laughed.
"I apologize, my Lady," he said when he stopped laughing. "But the mere thought that I would have any sort of romantic feelings for Ruthímiel is amusing. He is like a brother to me. A dear, beloved brother."
"That is well," she said and bowed her head. "I had..." she hesitated and Boromir smiled when she bit into her bottom lip. He thought that Elves were far beyond such human tendencies. "I had hoped you would be able to tell me more about Master Ruthímiel."
That simple request left Boromir quite surprised.
"Both Luinil and I – We can feel something strange about Calenim'othar. We feel as though we should know him. As though we have met a long time ago; in a life that has long passed."
Boromir's eyebrows narrowed as he thought about Viresse's words. "Ruth does not seem like someone who forgets people. I am sure that if you have met before, he would have recognized you."
"It is not like that."
Both turned when Luinil spoke from behind them, finding the Elf leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed over his chest.
"How is it?" Boromir asked.
"Like a dream you can hardly remember," Viresse said and Boromir looked at her. She was gazing at the horizon with a faraway gaze, as though trying to see something hidden beyond the line of sight. "A dream you dreamt in childhood that stayed dear to your heart, but the more you try to remember it, the harder it is to hold on to the images and feelings."
"It is as she said. We feel as though we have met him in a dream," Luinil said and Boromir's frown deepened.
"Did you ask Lord Elrond what it might mean?" Boromir asked. "He may be of more help than I could ever be."
"Maybe we should speak to him," Luinil said. "I know that I have never felt anything similar to this in my 260 years of life."
"Me neither," Viresse agreed.
"260? I had thought you older than that," Boromir commented thoughtfully.
"No. We are the youngest Elves in existence," Viresse said and Boromir hummed.
"This might not be comforting to you..." he muttered and the Elves looked at him with matching frowns, "but if I understand correctly, Ruthímiel had arrived to Middle-Earth around 260 years ago. He had spent 200 years on the outskirts of the Mirkwood forest and another 60 years traveling Middle-Earth in search for knowledge."
At his words Luinil and Viresse exchanged confused glances. "We must speak to Lord Elrond about this matter," Viresse said. "I fear that we cannot ignore these feelings."
Luinil nodded and pushed away from the doorframe. "I agree. We must speak to him as soon as possible. This cannot be ignored much longer."
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Ruth raised his head off of the ground and looked up the hill. The air was stale, the grass was dry and there were dark whispers in the wind whispering of death and sorrow.
He passed a burned down village just under an hour ago and his heart became restless as he tried to find any trace of whoever did this.
"Bíthe, merén," (Come, my friend.) he spoke to Orion and stood up. He had another three days ride to Edoras and he feared what he would find there now that he has found traces of Orcs and Bandits. "Poe kruth takue. Yólie cet shequém. Lam parthe hith poe beth kevi." (We must hurry. The Shadow is spreading. I fear that we shall be late.) He mounted Orion and spared one last glance at the burned down village he was leaving behind.
He feared the future. He feared this war. His heart was heavy and his mind weary. They had no time to spare. He knew Haldir and the Elven Army left Lothlórien.
He knew Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas entered the Fangorn Forest.
His heart was telling him that Pippin and Merry were safe.
His soul was hoping that Frodo and Sam were safe as well.
They have gone far beyond his sight.
His heart ached at that very thought, but he knew he could not dawdle. He had his own mission to fulfill.
"Ube, Orion. Ube!" (Run, Orion. Run!)
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There was nothing but darkness around him. Everlasting darkness and cold. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, his breath was coming out in silvery puffs and his whole body was shaking.
Suddenly there were whispers. Whispers in the deep.
His breathing quickened and his heart beat so hard he thought it would burst out of his chest.
"Who is there?!" he shouted as the voices grew louder. "Who are you?!"
Ash nazg durbatuluk.
Ash nazg gimbatul.
His breath hitched in his throat and he turned on his heel as the darkness seemed to grow deeper and the air grew colder.
"Show yourself!"
Ash nazg thrakatuluk.
Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.
His breath was kicked out of his lungs and he fell to his knees.
Lat hakhi birthuluk ba burzum!
"No!" he wrapped his arms around himself, as the cold seeped into his body.
Lat hakhi birthuluk ba Matum!
He whimpered and pulled into himself, trying to hold on to the last bits of warmth. His mind was running in circles. He felt helpless. Truly helpless.
"Haldir!" he whimpered and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Please! Someone! Anyone!"
Lat hakhi methuluk pi burguul!
His breath started coming short and tears trailed down his cheeks. He was back; back in that darkness. Back in that dark, dark place he barely managed to pull himself out of.
"Haldir - please-…" he gasped as his lungs filled with lead.
LAT BHI MATULUK PI BURZ!
In that moment bright light broke the darkness and scorching warmth enveloped him. He raised his head in shock and his heart jumped a beat when a form dressed in light appeared in front of him, chasing away the darkness. Ear splitting screams echoed somewhere outside of the circle of the warm light that had enveloped him into its comforting embrace.
"Fear not, Ruthímiel," spoke a familiar voice and Ruth's breath caught in his throat. "You are not alone, my friend. You are not alone in the Dark." A gentle touch caressed his cheek and everything started to fade. "Now awaken. You have an important task to finish."
"Gandalf?"
And everything burst into light.
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Ruth woke up with a gasp and sat up quickly. Orion neighed and Ruth looked down at his faithful friend.
"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you, Orion," he said and patted the stallion's neck. He swallowed heavily and looked at the starless sky.
That dream had him still shaking from the cold. He was still shivering and he felt as though cold sweat was covering him from head to toe.
"I fear that wasn't a dream," he whispered. The darkness was spreading. There was a great Shadow looming in the East and with each passing day it grew darker and stronger.
Orion neighed again and stopped on top of a hill. Dawn was slowly breaking on the horizon and Ruth looked down at the slowly awakening city of Edoras. On top of the hill at the back of the village was the court of King Théoden.
Ruth patted Orion's neck.
"Let's go, my friend. We have much to do here and time is not on our side."
Orion moved and Ruth took a deep breath. As they neared the city gates, he noticed two guards at their posts and lowered his hood to cover half of his face and hide his eyes. He covered the sword Haldir gave him with his long cloak and hunched his shoulders.
"What business do you have in Edoras?" asked one of the gate-guards when Ruth stopped in front of them.
"I am a mere traveler, good man," Ruth spoke. With his magic, he made his voice sound deeper and raspier and his long sleeves hid his hands from sight. "I seek shelter and I bare news to King Théoden. Grave news."
The guard snorted and stepped aside. "Lately we hadn't had any good news pass the lips of anyone who entered this city. Come. I shall lead you to the court."
Ruth smiled under his hood. He mounted off of Orion and whispered in his ear, and Orion neighed, pranced and rushed out of the city.
"Will you not need your horse?" asked the guard and Ruth only smiled at him.
"He is a dear friend. When I call for him, he will come back to me."
The guard snorted, but nodded never the less. "Come. The King will be informed of your arrival. They will be expecting you."
"They?" Ruth asked as they made their way towards the Court.
"Kind Théoden and his consultant, Grima Wormtongue." The guard spat out the consultant's name as though it left a bitter taste on his tongue.
"Do you not like him?" Ruth asked and the guard looked at him as though he was contemplating his choice of words.
"No. I do not," he simply said. They were silent for the rest of the way and Ruth took a moment to look around. He saw a few faces here and there, but most were of either very old people or children not yet old enough to hold a sword let alone survive a war.
As they neared the stairs that led up to the Court, Ruth raised his head and frowned when he saw a woman with long blond hair standing on the patio overlooking the city. She looked at him and he shivered at the almost dead gaze meeting his watchful eyes.
"That is Lady Eowyn," spoke the guard and Ruth looked at him. "Just like many of us, she refused to leave the King's side, although..."
"Although what?" Ruth asked as they climbed the stairs. "I have heard of her. She is the King's niece. Does he not recognize her as such?" Ruth asked and the guard snorted.
They stopped in front of the gates, just as Eowyn disappeared around a corner. "King Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe, sir," said the guard bitterly, "not even his own kin." He pushed the door open and walked in.
Almost immediately Ruth was all but overwhelmed by the stench of death, decay and evil. He frowned from under the shadow of his hood when he saw the pitiful form of the once proud King sitting on the throne, and Ruth's guts turned when he saw the slimy man who sat at Théoden's feet, already whispering words of deceit to the weary King.
"My King. I have brought you the traveler. He carries news; grave news," spoke the guard as Ruth walked over to stand some 30 feet in front from the King.
"Early is the hour this wanderer asks for admittance with the King," Grima spoke lowly and stood up. "He knows not the decency to tell us his name, let alone show us his face."
"Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, snake," Ruth hissed and Grima flinched back.
Suddenly the foul man had found himself speechless. He stared at Ruth with wide eyes while the guards exchanged confused glances, and Ruth dismissed Grima, focusing instead on the pitiful form of King Théoden of Rohan.
"The warmth of your hospitality has dimmed somewhat, Théoden King," he drawled, standing at his full height, "or have the whispered words of this foul thing clouded your mind so much that you no longer recognize a friend and ally?" Ruth spoke as he walked closer to the throne.
"Stop him!" Grima finally found his tongue again. "He as an enemy! Stop him!"
All of a sudden Grima found himself slammed against the closest wall by an invisible force and an emerald fire appeared between the guards and Ruth.
"Who are you?" a voice that did not belong to Théoden spoke and with an elegant move of his hand Ruth removed the hood that hid his face.
Raven strands fell around the lithe form, skin shining like moonlight and eyes glowing with innate power. "I am Ruthímiel the Green," he spoke in a strong, confidant voice. His enchanting eyes gazed at Théoden with power radiating from them and his magic danced around his body.
"A Green Istar?! I didn't know..."
"You need not know everything, traitor," Ruth hissed and raised his hand. Théoden was forced into his chair and a small choked sound escaped his lips.
"How dare you! Do you not know who I am?! I am Saruman the White! You shall pay for-..."
"Luth camnuth pieth ha lah, Saruman me Jebi! Luth beth hato keár sef cer ártho, cer luth beth ner obéi vade keár lértha!"(You are not a threat to me, Saruman the Traitor! You shall leave his mind and body and you shall no longer rule his heart!) Ruth's power-laced voice shook the hall and Saruman grunted in pain as he was slowly pushed out of Théoden.
"If I leave Théoden dies!" he shouted and Ruth smirked.
"I have survived Possession when I was barely into my 16th summer and that man was more powerful than you could ever be," Ruth bit out through clenched teeth. "Théoden shall survive as well. Now LEAVE!" he roared and a wave of power shook the room to its foundations.
With an ear piercing scream, Saruman left Théoden's body. Ruth rushed forward when Théoden fell and caught the King into his arms, cradling him to his chest like one would a small child.
Every person in the room gasped when in front of their very eyes Théoden started de-aging until he returned to his full glory. He looked up at Ruth and frowned in confusion. "I know you," he whispered in a broken, strained voice and Ruth laughed quietly, gifting the Man with a small smile laced with amusement.
"I hope you do, Théo," Ruth said and winked. "After all, you offended me once by calling me a woman."
"Uncle!"
Théoden was spared of embarrassment when Eowyn called out his name. Ruth banished the flames and the young woman ran over to them, letting go of Théoden and taking a few steps back to allow the Lady of Rohan to hold her Uncle.
"Eowyn. My lovely Eowyn," Théoden whispered and hugged her lovingly. "I have wronged you so." She smiled and kissed his cheek and both looked at Ruth. "How can I thank you?" Théoden asked and Ruth smiled.
"There is no need to thank me yet, King Théoden. I bare you no good news."
Théoden frowned and looked around. "Where is my son?" he asked. The atmosphere in the room grew heavier. "Where is Theodred?"
"My King," Eowyn spoke frightfully, "Theodred has been gravely injured. "
"What?" Théoden breathed out weakly, eyes darkening with fear.
"He is dying, my lord. We know not how to save him," Eowyn cried, bowing her head in shame.
"Take me to him," Ruth said and everyone looked at him. "There may be something I can do." At his words Grima broke into laughter.
"You? A mere Istar? How could you fight the poison of a Morgul arrow?"
Ruth glared at him, appearing in front of the traitor in a blink and the slimy, cowardly man's eyes widened in fear.
"You shall speak no more, you disgusting creature," Ruth spat out angrily, eyes glowing with a deep, sacred fire. "You have betrayed your kin by joining the Shadows. You shall no longer walk this world and mar it with your filth."
"M-my Master will kill y..."
"Your master shall meet his end very, very quickly," Ruth whispered. "And you can prepare him a spot in the eternal darkness of Gehenna!" with those words, Ruth placed his hand on Grima's chest and the pitiful man screamed, dissolving into dust in front of everyone's eyes.
Ruth took a step back and let go of a deep breath.
"Take me to Theodred," he spoke in a commanding tone.
Eowyn looked at her uncle who nodded at her, and she turned to Ruthímiel, gazing upon him with hope-filled eyes. "This way," she said and Ruth nodded.
"Hurry. I doubt he has much time left."
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Ruth gasped when they entered Theodred's chamber. He rushed over to the prince's bedside while Eowyn held onto Théoden. The King leaned against the doorframe, his heart breaking at the sight of his son.
Ruth kneeled beside the bed and placed his hand on the young man's forehead. Theodred moaned at his touch and Ruth frowned in worry. "He has fallen deep into the Shadow," he whispered. "I need water; lots of it." He took a seat on the bed and rolled his sleeves up to above his elbows.
"Right away," Eowyn said and rushed off while Théoden walked over to the bed weakly and fell to his knees.
"This is my fault. If only I hadn't allowed..."
"You could have done nothing," Ruth cut the King off, placing his left hand on Theodred's forehead and the right on the prince's stomach. "You are merely a Man and Saruman is a Wizard. You would have never been able to fight him off on your own."
Eowyn came back with two buckets of water. Two more young women ran in each caring two more buckets.
"Place them beside the bed," Ruth instructed. He placed his right hand over Theodred's wound and closed his eyes. The maids left the room while Eowyn kneeled beside her Uncle. He enveloped her into a hug as they prayed with all their hearts for the young prince to survive.
Ruth opened his eyes and stood up. He waved his hand over the buckets and within moments a low tub was on the ground and the water was steaming lazily. He pushed his hand under his cloak and pulled out a small, brown pouch. He opened it and threw a few leafs into the tub. A calming, refreshing scent filled the room almost immediately.
Ruth then turned back to Theodred, undressed him with a wave of his hand and then slowly levitated him into the tub. He kneeled beside it with his right hand under Theodred's head holding it above water with the rest of his body soaking in it. He washed the prince's face with his left hand, while the King and Eowyn watched from the sidelines in wonder.
"You look as though you know what you are doing," Eowyn commented and Ruth hummed, completely focused on the task at hand.
"I have been a healer a long time ago. I still remember the art quite well," he murmured, glancing at Theodred's face when the prince of Rohan grunted in pain.
Eowyn frowned, taking Ruth in with curious scrutiny. "You do not look old," she said. To her surprise it was her Uncle that spoke up.
"The first time I had met Master Ruthímiel, I was barely past my 12th summer," Théoden said. "You have not aged a day since then, although you have changed somewhat, especially your eyes."
Eowyn looked at Ruth in wonder and the wizard smiled, although his eyes were glowing with concentration. "I am very old, milady," he said.
Théoden and Eowyn frowned when something black started to flow out of Theodred's wound and Ruth cursed under his breath. The prince whined in pain and Ruth placed his hand over the reopened wound. He started chanting something under his breath and a moment later Théoden and Eowyn could barely breathe under the huge pressure that settled over the room.
It was over almost as soon as it started.
With a deep intake of breath, Theodred seemed to liven up. Color returned to his skin incredibly quickly and his breathing became lighter. When Ruth moved his hand the other two were shocked to find the wound gone, only an ugly scar remaining in its wake.
"I could not remove the scar. Magic can be fought with Magic, but not all traces can be removed," Ruth explained apologetically.
"Will he live?" Théoden asked as Ruth levitated Theodred out of the water, dressed him in light clothes and laid him down in the bed.
"He'll need time to recover his strength, but yes, he'll be just fine." Ruth banished the water and turned the tub back into the buckets before he took a heavy seat on the bed.
Only then did the two notice that he was quite pale and that his hands were shaking. "Are you well?" Eowyn asked as she rushed over to him. Théoden stood and walked closer, while Ruth smiled up at them.
"I have not used so much Magic in a while and everything that I've done today has exhausted me. I had not rested properly in a few days either. It is only natural that I feel weakened."
"I shall prepare a room for you then. Whatever news you have for us can wait until you've rested," Eowyn said and left the room before either men could say anything.
A moment later Ruth laughed quietly and looked at Théoden. "She is quite a special young woman," he said and Théoden sighed.
"Yes, she is. Although I fear the life I've given her has turned her cold and bitter." Ruth hummed and closed his eyes for a second. He could feel Théoden's eyes on him and a small smile tugged on his lips. "I am glad you are with us."
Ruth opened his eyes to look at the King. "War is looming on the horizon, King Théoden," he said and Théoden frowned. "It concerns us all. Middle-Earth is my home now. I shall fight for it for as long as there is breath in my body and my heart is still beating."
Théoden snorted and looked at his sleeping son. "What is there to fight for?" he asked. "Glory? Honor?"
"Life, Théoden King," Ruth said and Théoden shot him a confused glance. "Life."
"Your room is prepared." Eowyn chose that moment to walk in and Ruth slowly stood up. "Come. I ordered some fruit and water to be brought to your room. You need food and rest."
Ruth bowed his head at her in thanks. "I am forever grateful to you, milady," he said and Eowyn blushed under his watchful gaze.
"Follow me." She looked at Théoden. "I shall return shortly, uncle."
Théoden nodded at her and the two left the room. Once they reached one of the guest rooms Eowyn bowed at Ruth and spoke. "I wish you a good rest, Master Ruthímiel."
Ruth smiled and nodded. "Thank you, milady. I shall see you later."
She curtsied and walked away.
Ruth entered the room, closed and locked the door and all but collapsed on the bed. He was asleep before he managed to think another thought.
He was exhausted and wary.
His mind needed rest.
Later he would continue with his mission.
For now sleep was what he needed, and he hoped nightmares would not plague his dreams.
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I have always wondered just what decisions Théoden would make if his son was still alive. With Eomer as his cousin, I doubt Theodred would be willing to just sit aside and do nothing.