Chapter Twelve

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SUMMARY: In Rivendell, Vildan and his niece are still asleep, Lusiël has been stabbed, and Laniër is missing.

And from there, things go from bad, to worse, to tragic.

This is the showdown you've all been waiting for.

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"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."

― Kahlil Gibran

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Rivendell, 5th of March 2945 T.A.

"My Lord Elrond!" Captain Rahlen rushed up to him, "Lusiël has been stabbed!"

"Where is she?" Elrond demanded.

Before Rahlen had a chance to answer, Elrohir raced into the Healing Hall carrying the Elleth, who was unconscious and bleeding.

"Get her over here," Elrond indicated the nearest unoccupied bed and rolled up his sleeves. Two of his assistants began to cut off Lusiël's dress and try to stop the bleeding. "Wake up Lindir and the members of the Counsel and tell them to wait in the Meeting Hall. Then a terrible though struck him. "Where is Estel?" Ai gorgor, what if— Elrond's shoulders rounded in relief. Since his arrival, it was understood that, in times of trouble, Estel's life must be protected at all costs.

Elrohir rested his hand on his father's shoulder. "Glorfindel has him, Ada."

Whatever witchery is going on, there is little that could outmatch the light of the Two Trees, which resided in the Elf-Lord from Valinor. He could not be in safer hands.

"Where did you find her?"

"There was no one in Laniër's rooms, so we went to Lusiël's to ask questions. We found her on the floor of her sitting room."

"Was she conscious then?"

"Only just. She managed to say one thing before she went under, My Lord." Rahlen said grimly. "'Laniër.' We can only take it to mean it was she who caused her injuries."

"Where is the knife?" Elrond asked, as he probed the wound on Lusiël's abdomen.

"I have it, My Lord," Lt. Thenin held it out. It was a common weapon possessed by most of the residents of Imladris, but for the blood drying on the blade. "We found it on the floor next to her."

"Set it over there," he ordered, "Rahlen, assign two of your Elves to guard the entrance to this room, and the rest of you, go continue the search."

"Right away, My Lord."

After washing her up and dressing her in a plain white gown, Elrond and the assistants tucked her under several warm blankets and left her to awake on her own. He recorded the injuries plus her treatment and went to his study to wait and worry while the search for continued.

Not an hour later, Elrond sat in his throne in the Meeting Hall, surrounded by the members of his Council as a screeching, wailing Laniër was brought before him, hands were bound behind her back struggling against Elrohir and Rahlen.

"Silence!" Elrond commanded, and the noise level dropped instantly. He rose to his feet, stepped off the dais and drew a wrapped parcel from the folds of his robe. He kept his eyes on Laniër as he unwrapped it and threw the contents of it at her feet.

"This is your knife, is it not?"

"It is, My Lord," she sobbed. She swallowed, as more tears fell from her face.

"Laniër, daughter of Nornorë, you have been brought before this Council and accused of the stabbing of your cousin, Lusiël, daughter of Bruithwir. To this serious charge, what say you?"

"My Lord, you do not understand!" she sobbed. "This is all my fault, and if I had just—"

"Are you saying you carried out this deed against your own kin?"

Laniër closed her eyes and nodded her head. "I had to. If you would just allow me to explain—"

"What possible explanation could be given to justify such a thing?" he roared. "You said yourself, it is your fault!"

"It is," the Elleth's entire body shook with fright. "I should have…" Her face suddenly grew very pale, and she swayed in their hold.

"Get her a chair!" Elrond ordered Lindir. "And a glass of Miruvor! Quicky!"

Once she was seated, Elrond held up a goblet to her mouth and ordered her to drink, then he returned to his seat and pressed his steepled fingers to his lips.

"Laniër, I have known you since infancy. Long had you and your cousin served Lady Celebrian, and she had nothing but praise for you both!" his tone grew harsh. "How could you do this?"

"I understand My Lord, and I will not try to excuse my actions, but there are some things you do not know, and the fault is mine for not realizing the truth earlier. If I had only come to you when I first suspected…"

"Suspected what? What do you know?"

"I realized that Lusiël might be the cause of Melui's affliction, and the murders of my best friend and he husband."

"You cannot be serious!" Elrohir's eyes bulged in disbelief.

"There is a reason for that," Laniër gaze rested on the floor at Elrond's feet. "And it was only last night that I understood."

"What do you speak of?" Elrond leaned forward.

"Vildan and I had had words, and I left. I was upset, and Lusiël found me crying in the gardens and she … persuaded me to go back to her rooms, and I told her about our argument. I did not want to, but… I could not stop myself. That is my fault! I should have seen it, and maybe I did, but could not believe it, but when I saw what had happened to Vildan and Melui last night, I knew it was her! I knew she would not stop until they were both dead!"

"I find this story very hard to believe," Elrond's brows lowered. "That Elleth is afraid of her own shadow; she can barely look anyone in the eye!"

"My Lord," her head raised. "Can you recall ever actually looking into her eyes?Especially since Lady Celebrian left these shores?"

"You will leave our mother out of this!" Elrohir shook her, hard.

"Wait, ion nin; let her speak," Elrond said. Then he addressed the prisoner in a calm but deadly voice. "This had better be good, for I am in agreement my son in this."

"I have always had nothing but the utmost respect and devotion to your Lady; if you believe nothing else, please believe that." Laniër went on. "Since we were small, Lusiël was shy and anxious around other people, and she could barely tolerate crowds. When we were honored to be chosen as handmaidens, the Lady became concerned and wanted to help her."

"I remember that," Elrond said. "Celebrian said she was oversensitive to the emotions of those around her, that it overwhelmed her to the point of pain."

"That is right," Laniër nodded. "And you remember that the Lady taught my cousin how to place a wall, a barrier, of sorts between herself and others?"

"A treatment that was deemed necessary at the time, but not without consequence," the Elf-Lord said thoughtfully. "But nothing justifies what you did, and for that you will face consequences of your own."

"I know," Laniër's chest and shoulders lifted and fell in a heavy sigh. "As the daughter of Galadriel, Lady Celebrian had the power to help my cousin, and for many years, things were much better. Lusiël seemed happier and her personality blossomed into what our family had always hoped she could become. Until…" she blew out a breath. "When our Lady was captured, it was as if Lusiël retreated back into her old ways, and we could do nothing about it."

"I did not know this," Elrond said.

"You were grieving, My Lord, and our parents did not wish to add to your burdens. Lusiël changed, and we thought it was despair, or that maybe the Lady's gifts had gone with her to Valinor, but it was…more than that. She could still shield herself, but it was as if, instead of shutting the world out, she wanted to shut herself in, to keep others from seeing her."

"Why did you not bring her to me when you became worried?" Elrond asked. "I could have done something to help, or even sent her to my mother-in-law."

"We should have, My Lord, I know that now, but at the time, the only evidence her my aunt and uncle had was just…a vague feeling that something was amiss.

"That is all well and good," Elrohir grew impatient, "but it has nothing to do with why you have been captured and brought before my father! What does Lusiël have to do with the murders of Meássë and Narseg and of Melui's affliction?"

"She did it!" Laniër cried, tears of frustration running off her chin. "She killed my best friend, and she nearly killed Vildan and Melui! If I had not stopped her, she would only try again! Do you not see? That was why Lusiël avoided you! My Lord, you and your sons have the power of the Maia in your blood, and Glorfindel was born under the Light of the Two Trees! She knew you would be able to see her fëa and you would know what she had become!

"I will not turn away from whatever punishment you deem fit, even if it be my own death. I had to kill her…" her face crumpled, "because…" she broke out into sobs, "I love Melui, and I love Vildan with all my heart, though I know now he does not return my feelings. It was too late to save Meássë and Narseg, but I would rather die knowing I had saved her daughter and her brother, than to live knowing I did not!"

The other Council members and Lindir began to whisper among themselves. Elrond's eyes met his son in utter confusion.

"Laniër," Elrond stood and went to her. "You did not kill your cousin. Lusiël lies in the infirmary, even as we speak."

"She is alive?" The expression on the Elleth's face a mixture of relief and terror. "Where are Vildan and Melui?" Laniër tried to jump to her feet. "You must stop her, My Lord! Ai, gorgor, she will kill them! She—"

Dread, and something else he couldn't name slammed into Elrond, nearly knocking him to his knees. He clutched at the neckline of his robe, as if to free himself. Elrohir and Rahlen were doing the same. Behind him, the dull thumping of bodies hitting the floor…

And before him, Laniër was on her back, her mouth wide open, her eyes bulging, her face turning red, then purple, then blue. She writhed in torment, her spine arching and falling on her still bound hands, over and over, desperate to get air. Somehow she managed to turn toward Elrond, she mouthed the words.

Forgive me…

And with that, Laniër's body finally relaxed, just as Elrond and the others were released from whatever had cursed them. Moans of relief echoed throughout the hall, as they gave thanks for the air that filled their lungs once again.

But Laniër, daughter of Nornorë did not get up, nor would she ever. Elrohir, still gasping, pressed his fingers into her neck and shook his head at his father.

"Blow the horn, if you can," Elrond croaked and got to his feet. "Get everyone to the infirmary, at once!"

The spell, or whatever it was, may have lifted, but the guilt that washed over Elrond threatened to take away his breath again, as he raced through the halls and corridors of the Homely House.

"My Lord!" Thenin called from the door of the Healing Hall, holding his bleeding head. "They are gone! All three of them!"

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They reached the infirmary to find the beds mussed and empty. Elladan was on the floor by Melui's bed. Elrond raced to his son, still envisioning Laniër dying before his very eyes.

"Elladan?" he knelt and felt his son's cheek, which, praise Varda, was still warm. "Ion nîn? Please, wake up!"

Elrohir was beside him, his face like a ghost, his voice wavering. "Is he alive?"

"He is. Help me get him on the bed."

"I will do it." The twin lifted his brother in his arms and set him where Melui had been. Elrond quickly checked his son's vital signs as Thenin came over.

"My Lord, I heard Elladan cry out, and before I could turn around," he grabbed at his chest. "Something made it so I could not breathe, then I was struck from behind…" Elrohir grabbed his waist and eased him down on the bed Vildan had occupied.

"That is everything you remember?" he asked.

"Yes. All was quiet and the lamps had been turned down. I stayed in the doorway, to intercept anyone who might approach without your leave, and then…" Thenin winced at the light and held up his bloody fingers. "I should have stopped them…"

Thenin's wife, still in her uniform, had muscled her way into the room. 1 "Meleth nîn! What happened?" She grasped his hands. "I was at my post when they told me…"

"It is a long story, and we will take stock later," Elrond said, still bent over his son. "You husband will be fine, but Vildan and Melui have been taken, and I must ask you to go and help rescue them. Elrohir, you join them."

"Please, Eílíent," Thenin squeezed her hand. "Go. I will be here, waiting."

Elladan stirred with a low moan, then opened his eyes. "Ada? What—" He lifted his head and took in the sight of a room full of soldiers running out of the room, and his eyes widened in recognition. "No—"

But Elrond held his shoulders down. "Not until I am sure you are well enough. What do you remember?"

"I was there," he pointed to the foot of the bed he was lying on. "And then Lusiël just…sat up, as if nothing was wrong with her at all! I saw her wounds, Ada! You put her to sleep!"

"I did not," Elrond's mouth thinned. "Had I administered a losta-luith, perhaps it would have at least slowed her down. What happened then?"

"I tried to go to her and help her lie down again and she…looked at me… I couldn't move… I could not do anything, then she lifted her hand," he said in a small voice, "and there was nothing until I woke up just now."

"Was there something about her eyes, Ion nîn?"

"Yes. They were not…right. " He closed his eyes and shuddered. "I have never seen anything like it. It was as if I were looking at the face of evil."

Elrond, swallowed down the painful lump in his throat, sending up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Lusiël could have easily killed his son with a flick of a finger.

"Lord Elrond!" Lieutenant Nyssiel burst in the room. "The Guards at the North Gates are both dead; and there are hoofprints leading out of the City."

"I am going, Ada," Elladan forced himself to sit up. "Vildan is my responsibility."

Elrond studied his son's face, then said. "All right, but you will ride behind me. It might take all three of us to stop whatever she plans to do."

"We would have better odds if Glorfindel were with us."

"No," he shook his head. "I cannot chance it. Get my horse ready; now!" he yelled, as he helped Elladan to stand.

By the time they reached the courtyard, his dark stallion was saddled and ready. Once Elladan was safely seated behind him, Elrond leaned down and whispered, "Follow the tracks heading North, Sûllum; show us the meaning of haste!"

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Sûllum's shoes sparked against the cobblestones and his riders could only hang on for their lives as the horse raced through the North Gates which were barely opened in time to allow them to exit without calamity. Elrond had trusted his faithful steed to aid and protect him through countless patrols and battles; he would not disappoint his master now. Both Elven riders instinctively flattened themselves against his back to avoid low-hanging branches and keep their seats as the battle-horse jumped over obstacles to short-cut their way to the rescue party.

By the time they caught sight of them, they were working their way up the hill to the—

"Ai! Amarth faeg!" Elladan cried out in horror. "Ada, she is taking them to the Îfnan Bruinen!"

"We may already be too late." With a pounding heart and blood rushing in his ears, Elrond he did something he had never done before. He slapped the reins on the horse's neck and shouted, "Hortha, Sûllum; Ego! Ego!"

Praise Varda, his equine friend was not offended, and spurred even faster until at last they were pulling to a halt. Father and son jumped to the ground running until they reached the semicircle of soldiers. Elrond grabbed Elrohir's arm. "Why are you just standing here?"

"She threatened to throw the child over if we came any closer." his son pointed to the figures slowly circling each other at the cliff edge. Lusiël had Melui clasped to her front, a knife held to her throat, while Vildan crouched, hands out, pleading with her. The cold, driving rain muffled their voices, but the look on Lusiël's face was unmistakable.

And her eyes.

Ae Belain natho din, he prayed silently. Berio din… Beside him he could sense the prayers of the others and hoped the Valar heard them.

Elrond made to step forward but Elrohir stopped him. "No; we tried that, and she just pulled the child closer to the edge. We cannot risk it."

"Please, Lusiël," Vildan was sobbing, "Take me. I will do anything you want, and I will not fight you, but please, I beg you, let my child live!"

All eyes were riveted on the terrifying Elleth and the child who stared off into space, as she had done for the past half-year, unaware of the wet, the cold. Unaware that if that blade moved even a little, her blood would pour out and mix with the mud faster than even Elrond could prevent.

No one was looking at the ground. Not until it was too late.

The heavy rains that had fallen over Imladris and its surrounding lands had caused the Bruinen to rise rapidly, changing it from a smooth, clear river into a roaring, rushing, deadly force. Whether it was the wet, or the bodies shifting on this particular piece of Middle Earth, or it was the vibrations that came from the roar of the river, that caused the soil to shift under Lusiël and Melui and start to slide.

Time slowed to a crawl, as Lusiël's eyes widened in fear, all malevolence gone. She swung out the arm holding the knife in an attempt to regain her balance, but it was too little, too late.

"No!" cried Lusiël as she fell backward, still holding Melui.

"No!" Vildan screamed, as he dived forward, grabbing the fabric of Melui's dress.

"No!" screamed Elladan, as he ran to save his friend.

With a shriek, Lusiël disappeared over the edge, taking Melui with her.

With a roar, Vildan followed, refusing to let go.

Elgeria i Belain!

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Vildan saw the branch—or was it a root?— sticking out from the side of the cliff just below. He tightened his fist in Melui's dress and grabbed at it, breaking the hold Lusiël had on her.

She was free! He held on tight and prayed his niece's dress was sturdy. He carefully lifted his right arm, until Melui was against him and let go of the skirt just long enough to catch her waist and hold her to him.

"I have you, sweetling," he panted. "I will not let you go; I promise."

Below him, the screams stopped as Lusiël hit the water. He dared a glance down and followed her with his eyes as she struggled to keep her head above water. Fifty yards downstream, the water swept her to a rock that jutted out into her path and dashed her body against with too much force to survive. Ten yards past, her body reappeared, face-down and flopped into the waves like a rag doll.

Ai, gorgor…

"Vildan!" a shout from above. It was Lord Elrond. "We are getting you a rope! Hang on!"

"Hurry!" he called up. "It will not hold us for long!"

After what seemed like centuries, Elrohir jumped over and began to repel against the side of the cliff. "They will throw down another rope. Do not grab it; I will tie it around you and they will pull you up!"

Melui clung to her uncle, shivering. Vildan tightened his arm around her and prayed.

"No matter what happens," Vildan told her. "Hang on to Tôrano Vida and do not let go, do you understand? Do not let go!"

Elrohir reached them and grabbed at the other rope, ready to begin but just as he stretched out his hand, the branch gave way.

Everyone watched helplessly as they fell, unconsciously stretching out their arms.

Vildan managed to gather Melui to him and hold his hand over her nose and mouth. The river Bruinen seemed to rush up to meet them halfway, giving Vildan barely enough time to inhale hold his breath. The water was like a thousand icy knives, and he had to force himself not to inhale from the shock of it, as he kicked with all his might. When their heads breached the surface, he took his hand away.

"Breathe! Do not let go!"

That sharp rock was just ahead, but Vildan was ready for it. He bent his legs and ricocheted off of it, sending them back into the foamy waves. His eyes swept the terrain ahead and was able to maneuver the two of them past several more, making sure to keep Melui's head above the water and away from anything could hurt her, and desperately trying to find some sort of inlet to swim toward.

Where were they?

He had spent countless hours swimming in the Bruinen as a child. He and his father had hiked and fished and camped along its banks until he knew every inch of it for miles. But this was not the river he had loved all this life. Today it was a stranger, barely recognizable. Somewhere there must be a landmark that could tell him where they were at!

It wasn't until he saw the sharp bend looming before them that he finally got his bearings, and he remembered the large, boulder that sat in the middle. Still gasping and stroking with his left arm, they went around the curve and once again, he bounced them away.

What he didn't know, what he couldn't possibly have anticipated was that earlier that year, one of the trees on the nearby bank had fallen into the water. In any other circumstance it would have been visible to the naked eye, but today it remained hidden under the opaque, brown surge. Vildan had just cleared the boulder when his foot became caught in it, sending them both under. Fighting off panic, he held Melui up, and twisted himself around until he sprung free.

Once again, his head came above the surface and he coughed and shook the water from his eyes as he tried to turn them around to face the current, but he wasn't quick enough. Vildan's back crashed into sharp jagged rock causing an explosion of pain. Yet he held on, and Melui didn't let go.

They had made it through the roughest part of the water; the terrain was no longer steep, and they were heading toward level ground, but though the river was calmer, it was still deep. And Vildan was still struggling to stay afloat. Mercifully, the pain began to subside, as did the pain of the cold below the waist.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

When Vildan tried to kick his legs, they did not respond but dragged behind him. When he hit against something under the water, he only felt the jarring of his upper body, and there was a trail of blood in his wake. Vildan was growing weaker.

No more, he thought. I cannot do this anymore.

His body scraped against solid ground and at last, they came to a stop. Melui slipped away from him, and he lacked the strength to reach for her, or to even lift his head from the water.

He was too tired to look, to breathe, to live anymore.

Time to stop.

To rest.

To wait for the Call of Mandos and be taken to the Halls of Waiting, where he hoped Meássë would forgive him.

Hoofbeats, shouting. Boots running on gravel.

The last thing Vildan heard before the darkness fell was Melui crying and calling out his name.

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Ae Belain natho din - Oh Valar, help them

Ai! Amarth faeg! – Basically the Sindarin version of "Holy Shit!" (Lit. "Oh no! Evil Fate!")

Berio din – Protect them

Hortha, Sûllum; Ego! Ego! - "Hurry, Sûllum; Go! Go!

Îfnan Bruinen – The Cliffs of Loudwater.

Sûllum – (Lit. "Windshadow") the name of Elrond's dark stallion (as seen briefly in The Hobbit Trilogy).

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NOTES:

1 Thenin and Eílíent are Woodland Guardians who chose to say in Rivendell after their exchange year. SCOM, Ch. 7: /works/26090521/chapters/72741651

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