Chapter 5: In Dreams
They had entered the Hidden Valley late in the evening, just before sundown, though the sun had not been visible for a while as in sunk below the mountain tops. It was a spectacular sight in the diminishing light as the radiant beams of sunlight flickered off the cascading waterfalls. She urged Suldal to closely follow Glorfindel's horse, Asfaloth. They were met by two, dark haired twins who chatted with the hobbits and Glorfindel enthusiastically. She paid no attention to them, preferring to take in the view.
It was when one of them pushed his horse to walk alongside Suldal that she acknowledged them. "Greetings, master elf." She tried to mask her slight ire, but she clearly did not accomplish that for Glorfindel turned and his smile faded from his lips.
"Greetings, milady. I am Elrohir, son of Lord Elrond." He bowed slightly in the saddle as he waited for her to give him her name.
"I am Coran of the Dúnedain." She imitated his actions.
"If I could, Lady Coran, I would like to look at your wounds when we arrive. My father is busy with Frodo's wound, but I am skilled enough to deal with yours."
Her answer startled him a bit. "No. I must wait for my Chieftain. I cannot take pleasures while he is still in the wild. I am sorry, but it is not my way."
He nodded, moving away from her as they crossed the bridge into Rivendell. She helped Merry dismount after she had removed herself. Elrohir offered to take Suldal to their stables and she allowed him to. She stood at the foot of the stairs that lead up into the House of Rivendell, just staring off towards the beginning of the road into the valley. It was there she would wait until Sam, Aragorn and Goldor made their way to the Last Homely House East of the Sea.
~x~x~x~x~x~
The old man, hooded and cloaked, grasped his staff as he stood at the top of the marble steps that led up into the main building in Imladris. Next to him were the Lords Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir. The old man's blue eyes glistened faintly with the bursts of light from the morning sun as he looked down upon the valley. "Has she been out there the whole night?"
"Yes, Mithrandir," Elrohir replied with a slight gesture that was far too nonchalant for the usually energetic elf. He had spent the night watching over her, which he found tiresome. She had moved once: to crawl up into a ball and finally sleep in the deep hours of the night. She was now still peacefully sleeping.
"Has there been any sign of them?" It was Glorfindel who was curious.
"No," was the yawned response. "I think I will retire now. Elladan, are you taking up watch?"
"Yes, brother. Go sleep."
Seeing as their early morning meeting was over, Mithrandir excused himself as well by saying he would visit the Lord Elrond and Frodo. Glorfindel accompanied him, which left Elladan alone, leaning against a marble statue.
This human puzzled him. Glorfindel had shared that she held no faith in human, elf, or hobbit and had no love for his sister for reasons unsaid. He had heard from the hobbits that her unit of Dúnedain Rangers and her husband, Feredir, were slaughtered on the borders of the Shire by the Nazgûl, save a few. She was the cousin to Arwen's lover and had been the keeper of the Ring of Barahir. She travelled with unique company: her horse, Suldal, and the sapient dog, Goldor Orcsbane. He had learned of her failed attempt at defending the hobbits at Weathertop with little to no battle experience and that she was healer before she had married. Now she slept at the bottom of the stairs, through the cold October night, in wait for her Chieftain, a hobbit, and her friend. Most peculiar indeed, but she was nothing worth pursuing with any ounce of curiosity.
It was not long after daybreak that he found some relief from his post. There was a horn that had been blown at the beginning of the valley announcing the arrival of the three travelers whom she awaited. Not long after Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Samwise Gamgee of the Shire and Goldor Orcsbane wearily wandered across the bridge and to the foot of the stairs that led into the Last Homely House.
Elladan watched as Goldor bounded up to Coran and found that she was okay. Aragorn stooped to pick her up and began to carry her tired and sleeping form up the stairs. Elladan retreated out of sight and allowed the four to come into his father's house.
~x~x~x~x~x~
She awoke in the deep hours of the evening to a cool hand placed on her burning cheek. Aragorn caressed her wound as he healed her. He stood over her in a loose maroon shirt and his leather pants. He had not bathed yet. She stared at him as he whispered over her. Moving his hands to her arm, he did the same there. "You are lucky that these wounds are not infected or that deep. Here," he lightly touched the scratch on her face, "there will be a light, fine scar and here," he touched her arm, "there will be a larger scar, though nothing that will mar your beauty, my heart."
She sat up and advanced slowly towards him, extending her arms to him. He allowed her to pull him in an embrace and comforted her. He had been a friend and a leader to the younger generation of Dúnedain and had taken great joy in guiding and counseling the two young betrothed, Feredir and her. She had no one to call father and found he filled the role. She was still a child at heart and had married far too young to a man far too young to marry as well. It was burning love and lust that had bound them and now there was nothing left.
"Ada," she whispered in Sindarin with her face pressed into his shoulder. "How is Frodo?"
"He has not woken yet, but Lord Elrond thinks that he is on the path to recovery and should awake within the next couple of days." He pulled away from her, standing and moving towards the wooden door. "I will send for some food and water, but you should get some more rest."
"Yes, sir." She stopped him before he could remove himself completely from the room. "I would like to talk to the Lord Elrond."
"It shall be arranged," he gave a slight nod and departed from her.
As she recessed into the soft pillow she could not help but think of her own father, who was stationed in Mirkwood assisting the elves there. She had known him only for the first five years of her life. Coran I had parted sorrowfully with her mother, Eryniel, and they had not seen him since. She grew up without the guidance or the teachings of a father. The women of the Dúnedain are taught to wield weapons, but they are taught by their fathers. She had not learned because of this and because of her medical training.
She sometimes wondered whether he was alive or not, but found it did not matter to her as much as it did her mother. In Coran's heart, she thought her father a hero, a martyr, and quite distant. Her mother on the other hand did not speak of her father and when she did, she spoke of sorrow and death, ignoring any feeling that would call him a hero.
She began to drift to sleep with these jumbled thoughts. If only she had not been born into the Dúnedain… She may have had a father, a living husband and she would not have to be in the condition she was in. She felt disgusted with those thoughts but began to rationalize them: at one point in every living being's life there is that moment in which one does not want what their life has given them, thinking of different possibilities and other lives that they could have had. She was no different than any other person that had ever lived, that was living or would live. She found comfort in this justification of hers and allowed for her mind to quiet and her eyes to close.
~x~x~x~x~x~
She stood atop a glittering white tower, staring down at the crowd below. So many had gathered for a reason unknown to her. As she scanned the masses, she drew her bow, aiming.
"Do it. And save him." There was a harsh whisper in her ear, neither male nor female. She turned to look but there was no one on the battlement. "Do it! Do it now!" It screamed in her ear. She raised the bow again, pointing it at the woman that stood next to her king. "NOW!" She released with a feeling of fleeting joy and then a deluge of guilt as it struck true, embedding itself into the chest of her king's poison.
Doubling over from sickness at her actions or from pure instinct as the guards below scanned the towers for a shooter, she sobbed and coughed as she vomited and succumbed to the realization that she had taken a life, an innocent life. But she knew in her dark heart that it was better this way, at least for her people, for the children of her king.
"Coran, what have you done," the soft and gentle voice of Feredir floated over her as if from a memory. She turned to look at him. She saw his red-rimmed eyes as he cried. "You are not who I knew. This creature you have become has ripped the purity from the heart of my Coran. You killed her. In cold blood! Why?"
She uttered not a word, but reached out in wonder and in desperation towards him. He stumbled away in disgust, batting her hands away. "Answer me!" he screamed.
"For our people! For him and his children!" She was crying now. And as tears flowed down her face, she struggled to stand, grasping the cold stone of the marble tower for support.
"It was not your decision to take her from him. She had done nothing wrong. She pledged herself to him! She waited for so many years! You took her from him… Coran."
"Feredir, please forgive me. You must understand why I have done this! He is my family. Our family deserves happiness and her blood would make that impossible! I could not grow old and see his children remain ageless. I could not have them wander this land forever and alone all because of her! Please," her voice cracked as she reached for him again. "I could not betray my family."
He stayed silent and let her hands drop from him. He watched her tears carve valleys in the dirt on her face. As he finally looked at her, he whispered, "But you could betray me."
"I didn't," she mumbled, shaking her head as if she needed to make herself believe her words too. "I didn't. I can't. I haven't!" She stumbled backwards, almost falling off the tower through an empty space in the barricade.
"You have," and he was gone, falling over the edge of the wall.
There was a sickening noise, a disturbing crack … and a thick, rich red polluting the pristine white marble of the ground. As the screams from the crowds down below arose at the second death, she screamed his name as she lost him again, and again by her doing.
"Look! Another!" there was a shout from the crowd and the man pointed to her, standing on top of the tower wall.
There was a silence as the king spoke. "Please, my heart! Do not go to meet him!" Along with power, his voice had a commanding grief. He knew it was her. He knew it would always be her. "Coran!" He screamed as she faltered with the wind. "Please! Back away! Please!" She stood silently, looking down at Feredir's body. "He would not have wanted this!"
Her voice cut through the air like a knife, cool and sharp in the pale morning. "I betrayed him! I betrayed you!"
But he would not listen to her. He started towards her, moving towards the tower. "Do not move! I'm coming to get you! Please, my heart, my love!" He was running, but it seemed as if the world had slowed and he would not make it. That he could not save her. In her dark heart, she wanted to be saved. She wanted to feel his arms about her as he pulled her off the wall. But it was not to be.
She stepped.
"Coran! No!" He reached the top, then the edge as he watched her descend.
It was in this moment, she turned to look at him. He would be the last thing she saw. She had saved him. She had saved him. It was a prayer. As the stone and darkness took her, she could hear him screaming over all of the people about them. His voice wrought with so much anguish, so much torment. As she had saved him, she had also killed his heart, wrenching it from his body with arrow and marble.
She felt his hands on her as if trying to wake her.
Then she sat up in her bed in Rivendell, lying between marble sheets and under his soothing hands. A cool sweat had broken out all over her body and there was worry and fear in his eyes. He brought his forehead to hers in gratefulness as she panted deeply. "I thought you had been attacked. You torment the night with screams. What was it that you dreamt of?"
Her eyes widened with apprehension as she mumbled her apology and thanked him for his concern. "It was nothing. It was just a bad dream."
A voice from the corner rose with some sharpness. "It is said that some dreams come true, little one." From the shadows, Lord Elrond stepped. His features were harsh in the moonlight and she could see his power.
She shook her head. "Not this one, my lord." She welcomed the comfort of her king, memorizing the feeling of his hands. "I will not let it happen, for I cannot risk the sorrow of one I hold most dear."
"Go to sleep, my heart," her king whispered with a kiss on her forehead. "And dream of happier times."
She smiled. "I promise I will try."