Chapter 19
The end started as it always does; very slowly and then all at once.
Leda's departure date was closing in, and soon, her days whittled to single-digits and with them came a heavy pit at the top of her stomach that built the closer she got to leaving.
"You are quieter than you usually are." Gildor remarked one afternoon, as she un-packed and then re-packed her meagre belongings. He was up and about, bandage gone from his chest, walking the perimeter of his room to exercise. While he'd been bed bound, she'd forgotten how tall he was. Now, as his shadow cast long along the floor, and he occasionally loomed over her back to watch her work, she felt particularly small. Lindir was suspiciously absent, which had begun to happen more and more. Each time she looked up, expecting him to be there only to find him gone, the pit in her mid-section grew.
Elrond had given back her backpack the day before. The polyester material was warped by her leisurely dip in the Bruinen and it having been left to dry in a heap. But, when he'd given it to her without much fanfare, it'd still made her heart skip, fingers running along the crumpled exterior and faded lettering.
She had even lifted the rough material her nose, sniffing deeply. It smelled rank, like bog water and decapitation, but she'd breathed deeply, once, twice and then enough times that when she'd caught eyes with Elrond, he'd given her a particularly strange look.
"Did yourself and Master Lindir have another falling out?" Gildor asked wryly, bringing her back to the present.
Leda's hands stilled, the pit in her stomach grew again, but she managed to shoot him a rueful smile.
"He wishes." She joked, setting aside her backpack. "I think he secretly likes it when I grovel."
Gildor laughed. "Yes. I can imagine so. You are becoming remarkably adept at apologising, I hear."
Her bark of laughter was short. "Count yourself lucky then, I'll be gone soon, and you won't have to hear another grovel from me again."
She hadn't meant it to, but as soon as the joke left her mouth, it soured her tongue and mood and the pit in her chest throbbed uncomfortably.
Gildor, ever impatient, only left het her wallow in silence for a short moment before he tsk'd at the back of his throat.
"You are thinking of home." He stated, neutral.
She didn't answer. Couldn't somehow. Even though what he said was true.
He gave her another moment before he prompted again. "Are you not happy to go home, Leda?"
She blinked, her quick offence momentarily causing the pit to shrink.
"Of course I am." She said, perhaps a bit too hotly for it to be believed. "I can't wait. I can't wait to get back home and see- And see…"
Who was there to see? Astrid, who was suspicious. Dr Morgan's merry band of treasure-hunters who all tip-toed around her like they knew something she didn't? A living dad who hated her after insisting he was mad, even as she now lived his reality and the memory of a dead Mum who she never got to say goodbye to?
Her lips pursed. She was going home. That's all she'd wanted for two whole smelly, murder-y, bloody weeks. So why couldn't she just be happy about it? She should be happy. So why wasn't she?
"I just…can't wait to get back." She finished quickly, avoiding his eye.
That was mostly the truth. Part of her really couldn't wait. For a shower. For the internet. For a flushable toilet. She wanted to see Dad and use some of her new apologising skills to grovel at his feet for the rest of their lives. But there was a small part of her, some tiny nagging part, that couldn't stop feeling guilt about leaving.
She was going home to her non-war torn life, to take a shower and see Dad and make Molly eat a real dinner and go back to her job and eat food that wasn't the watery soup she'd had almost every night in the Stronghold. She'd be back drinking from ocean-killing plastic bottles filled with the crispest, clearest water she'd ever seen, rather than the boiled, slightly sweet water she'd been having there. Back to convenience. And safety. And a bed with a mattress made of cotton and not stone.
And they'd stay here.
Her almost-friends. They'd stay here, where they belonged. Because this hellhole was their home. They'd stay in this war where they'd probably be maimed. Or die. Buried beneath the mountain with a song so filled with grief she'd never feel again, never be again, never-
Gildor's hand landed on her shoulder, startling her out of her memory and gathering her back to herself, back from where her tumultuous thoughts had scattered her.
He leaned down, forcing their eyes to meet. His hair, once greasy, and lifeless, was now a vibrant flax, falling in straight sheets around his face. He was beautiful. And in the depths on his eyes, past the worry and concern, he was ancient, too.
"You are conflicted." He said lowly.
It was so close to the truth that instead of reaching out, she instinctively recoiled. Tittering, she dipped, subtly puling herself from his grounding hold. In his absence, the pit ballooned, almost stealing her breath. She smoothed her hands along her dress, backpack forgotten as she inched towards the curtained doorway.
"What? You can read minds now, too?" She awkwardly joked as he tracked her moving further away from him and the solace he seemed to want to give that she was too cowardly to accept.
"I do not need the Will of Artanis to see conflict within you, Leda" He said with a look she couldn't identify but that made the pit swell, so much so that she rubbed at her chest to alleviate the guilt that she had been the one to put it on his face.
"I should go." She said hurriedly, unwilling to open up, even when he asking her. "Mereneth won't be happy if I'm late."
Gildor straightened to his full height. He was like a tall willow, unmoving though his hair flitted in a breeze that hadn't found her yet.
When he smiled, it was more sad than not. "I will see you for dinner?"
She should say yes. She should beg to spend every second with him until she left. Tell him what she was feeling. He might understand. But instead she felt distinctly scared. She'd always been rubbish at goodbyes.
"Yes. Maybe. I mean – you know Mereneth."
Now, his smile turned bemused. "Yes. And I know you, too, Little Leda."
She should say something funny. She should laugh. Or make a quip. But, as the end neared, it seemed impossible. And so with one final smile she dashed out, away from him, and away from the truth. That the desperation to get home had somehow, at some point…bled into this. A sadness.
. . .
Lindir was still gone the next morning. Leaving her to make awkward, small talk with Hathil, an Edhel she hadn't met before. She looked older than Lindir, but younger than Gildor. Somewhere in a human's early twenties, but for an Edhel, she might have been a few thousand years old. The thought still made Leda shudder.
"Do you- know where Lindir is, then?" Leda called, as she hurriedly dressed after her bath. Hathil wasn't as patient as Lindir, and Leda could practically feel her judgment from the mouth of the cave where her back was turned for privacy.
"I do not have that information." She replied, in a steady, monotone. Not polite. Not rude. Just…nothing. Leda sighed. Lindir and Elrond and Gildor had been spoiling her, clearly. It seemed that other Edhel were more than happy to be brief. Or interrogatory if their name was Glorfindel.
"Hurry." Hathil called, as Leda rolled the hems of her dress up. "There is much work and Mereneth has called for you."
That sped Leda up, and in no time Hathil was depositing her to Elrond's lab, her goodbye barely leaving her mouth before she was running off.
Leda had a fraction of a second to think it strange before Mereneth was sweeping into the room as she usually did, with the gravitas of an oncoming tornado.
"Today you will mix the ground Arnica with oil." She stated with her usual huff. "It was make a thick paste."
Leda, a little startled by the new task and the speed with which Hathil left her, faltered a little too long with her reply.
"Is something wrong?" Mereneth harped, at Leda's blank look. "Was another simple task too complicated for you?"
That cut through her confusion like a knife. "No." Leda bristled. "I understood."
Mereneth's mouth thinned before she nodded once, pointing to Elrond's desk atop which Leda only then realised was filled with more jars, all but one empty of a thick greenish sludge.
"Match the consistency of that." Mereneth pointed to it. "By mixing those and grinding it in your bowl." She pointed to her feet, where a jug of oil, and bowls and bowls of ground arnica lay.
"What?" Mereneth barked when Leda again, only gaped down at the sheer volume of the task. "Do you feel yourself too good?"
Leda blinked. "No. I'll start right away. There's a lot to get through."
Mereneth frowned, as if waiting for something and then sniffed turning to leave. "I will return."
"Is…is something wrong?" Leda asked, stopping Merenth at the door. "This is just… a lot. And I haven't seen Lindir so I just… wondered."
Merenth's shoulders stiffened. Leda geared up for herself up for another fight, but what she got instead was just more of the same strangeness.
"It is nothing. Only a precaution." The lack of Merenth's usual ire kicked Leda's suspicion into gear.
"Right. But it's just that-" Leda started but when she looked up, Merenth was already gone and she was alone.
. . .
The room seemed much larger without Lindir there to take up some space and Mereneth only returned once, to make sure she had matched the consistency.
"Adequate." She'd called it, with a disappointed turn to her lips. But even her movements, which had always been jerky and hurried, seemed almost frantic as she'd snatched what little paste Leda had finished, and the example jar from before and left in another whirlwind of her dress.
Behind the thin gauze of curtain that acted as a door to Elrond's lab, Leda had spied bodies, walking quickly or the blur of an Edhel running. And as the hours passed, and Elrond and Celebrian were also, strangely absent, Leda felt herself feeling like she had in the first days of her arrival, invariably alone in a world too physically and metaphysically big for her. By the time the sun had begun to set, she'd nearly finished filling the empty jars with the green sludge she'd been mixing together, and her fingertips were mostly numb.
The edges of the room darkened as the light slithered back along with the setting sun. Usually, this was the point where Lindir would light a thin piece of wood using something they called 'firestone' (that looked an awful lot like flint) and go around the room lighting each of the high lamps. But without Lindir or any of the others around to help, Leda was in real danger of being shit out of luck once again.
But she was resourceful, she argued. She'd made it almost 20 days without a hairdryer, or a chocolate bar, or tampons (this, being a present concern as she was certain it'd kick in the day she was to leave), so didn't need Lindir. She could work out how to strike a bit of flint, climb on one of Elrond's ornate chairs and light a stupid lamp, right?
Except of course, that nothing in the Stronghold ever went her way.
She took a stick and two firestones, which Elrond kept in velvet lined baskets by the fireplace and wracked the metallic against each other, expecting the spark to expertly fall to the tip of the stick like it did with Lindir. Except it hadn't, and she'd promptly almost set her dress alight. She yelped, dropping everything to pat at the embers that scorched little black pinpricks into the material and grimaced. She refused to let such a simple task defeat her.
By her sixth try, and her dress being littered with tiny little black dots, her resolve had waned a little. She raised the firestones, gripping the stick between her thighs, and struck again but was interrupted.
"Elrond, the items you requested-"
The stones sparked but startled, she dropped everything onto her feet, hissing as new sparks rained down onto her stained dress, staring up into the shocked eyes of the last person she wanted to see.
Glorfindel's surprise lasted only for a fraction of a second before he rushed forward, impossibly fast, hands darting out to pat the dress along her thighs with one hand, batting the embers into more little black pinpricks.
"You could have set yourself alight!" He snapped, rearing back and away from her as though she had been the one to burn him.
Only then did she notice there was a box in his other hand, brown and inlaid with an intricate design she couldn't quite see.
For a moment, they stared at each other, Glorfindel in his usual anger, and Leda, so shocked to see another person, to have almost burned herself, and Lindir's warning, could only quickly breathe: "I was just trying to light the lamps."
Glorfindel's eyes widened before the anger bled from his face into a blank mask though she could still see the emotion in the stiffness of his stance.
She felt compelled to explain further, Lindir's warning of dispatchment repeating in her ears.
"It was getting dark." Her tongue darted out to swipe along her suddenly dry lips. Glorfindel's eyes tracked the movement before boring into hers again. With his scrutiny came the weight again, like thousands of Glorfindel's were staring at her, not just one. "Lindir usually lights the lamps but no one came and I have work to do so I just-"
"So, you thought you would burn yourself, all the books Lord Elrond has collected and the inhabitants of the Halls of Healing as well?"
Leda swallowed, it sounded like a sonic boom in the quiet room.
"I was just trying to help." She said lamely, pushing down any anger she may feel at being interrogated again.
Glorfindel's jaw tightened. And for a second the feeling of eyes intensified, almost crushing her and then it left, just as suddenly as it had appeared like before. Come to think of it, it only ever happened when he was around. Could it have been his- what did Gildor call it again? His Will? Was it magic?
While she pondered he seemed to make up his mind, turning from her. She thought he was going to leave, seeing as Elrond wasn't there, but instead he twisted, laying the box on the table and walking to her so quickly that she took a large step back away from him.
The look her shot her could have curdled milk, but she realised he hadn't had enough of her and was about to murder her, instead, he stooped, picked up the stick and firestone and lit the wood so quickly she wasn't sure he'd even moved – the stones hadn't even made the crunch it had when she'd knocked them together.
Wordlessly, he crept about the room, lighting the various lamps until they were both bathed in the blue glow. Each time he came close, she skittered left and right. His eyes cut to her but did not narrow or widen, only stared for a moment before he turned, to light another. Why he'd chosen to help her, she couldn't know, and the mystery made her skittish.
When he was done he held out the wooden box for her to take. When she only stared at the offering, his nostrils flared and he took a small step towards her.
"Take it." He ordered; in the way he did everything: with absolute authority that he would be obeyed. His tone made her bristle, stole some of her meekness and replaced it with the usual annoyance with him.
"What is it?" She asked and then, under her breath whispered: "poison?"
She should have known he'd hear, though.
He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "If I wanted to poison you, I would have done so already and I would do it with a box."
She grew suspicious. "I thought it was for Elrond. I wouldn't want to add 'thief' to the list of things you're accusing me of."
His jaw tightened. "Elrond requested it for you. Being as he is not here, take it."
Her eyebrows shot up suspicion quickly replaced with curiosity. "Elrond requested something for me?"
"I was most surprised as well."
She ignored his snark, instead reaching forward to pluck the box out of his hands. Her fingers brushed his, but she was so preoccupied by the box that she forgot her revulsion, instead turning the light box left and right, up and down in her hands, trailing the tips of her still near-numb fingers along the etched ridges. What she couldn't see before was that the majority of lines were vines, with little, impossibly intricate leaves detailed to the stems, all leaves converging on the box's lid, into brilliantly detailed flowers, one she knows she'd never seen before.
She spent some time, watching the lines of the flowers, how, under the blue lamplight, the etchings seemed to sway as if moving and, despite being in the same room as Glorfindel, she found herself smiling at the sight.
She peaked up at him, found his gaze roving across her face, to her still tracing fingers, with a small crease between his thick, dark-blonde eyebrows. No fury. Or anger. Just…confusion. The scrutiny made her feel uncomfortable. Quickly, she flicked the boxes latch, and immediately hissed at the light emanating from inside.
She squinted, raising a hand to run her fingers along the edges of the glowing leaves laid carefully into the box's velvet inlay. Something crawled along her skin, something warm, searching, and she shut the box against the feeling, eyebrows shooting up as the feeling dissipated.
"Why did you put them in a box?" She asked, dumbly. When Glorfindel had said Elrond had requested something for her, she thought it may be a book, or a scroll or something similarly nerdy. Not…the bloody leaves.
He sniffed, looking haughty. "It was a vessel that befitted their sanctity."
"Why…" Her tongue felt heavy, as did she, under Glorfindel staring down the length of his nose at her. "Why give them back? I thought…I thought they were important to you."
He huffed. Seemed as though he wanted to say something before settling on something else. "And yet they belong to you."
Leda startled laugh made his ears, just visible under the waves of his loose golden hair, twitch. "They don't belong to me. I just found them. If they're important to you- you should keep them."
She held the box back out to him, shaking it even as he stared at her like she had three heads.
Glorfindel's voice was thick with something strong. "If you knew what it is you held, you would never wish to part from them again."
Leda frowned. "Explain it to me, then."
His eyes narrowed. "Even if I had the time, I am not Lord Elrond. I have no patience for history lessons."
The obvious dismissal stung a little.
"Alright. Well." She held up the box, shaking it slightly to the annoyance of Glorfindel's whose ears twitched as his eyes tracked the movement. "Thanks, I guess."
With that done, she thought he'd leave. But he didn't. In fact, he didn't move, either. Instead, just watched her in that peculiar, unblinking way in which the Edhel sometimes stared at her.
"When you-"
"Is there something else?" She blurted over him, only for the end of her sentence to be drowned out by the sound her stomach chose at that moment to make. Hunger, it seemed, had caught up with her. Long used to forgetting to eat or busy shifts that meant only ten minute lunch breaks to stave off exhaustion on the ward had rendered her the incredible ability to filter her stomach's rumblings from her mind, ignoring them. Glorfindel hadn't spent enough time around her or any other junior doctors to stop being shocked by the noises a human stomach could make on hour thirteen of six cups of coffee and only four hours of sleep.
If they had been friends, if all their time fighting had been them getting to know one another the way her and Elrond or the others had, Glorfindel's expression would have made her howl with laughter. As it were, they seemed to hover around the mantle of 'mortal enemies', so it was almost a herculean effort to only allow her mouth to stretch into a large grin before she smoothed it down into a twitching line.
Glorfindel's eyes blew wide, so wide he looked again, more alien than humanoid. And despite him towering over her, the shock on his face seemed to make him smaller. He blinked, ears twitching back and forth, as though reverberating from the growl her stomach had made. The utter confusion, and displacement her stomach rumbling created in him was so satisfying, that she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"It's not a demon trying to claw it's way out of my body." She couldn't help but joke, trying very hard to smother a laugh behind clearing her throat. "It's just my stomach. I'm just hun-"
"I know what it is." He snapped; confusion wiped from his face only to be replaced by annoyance. Leda couldn't even bring herself to be mad at his usual whiplash of intensities, but she was perturbed by his scowl, and more so when he whirled, leaving the room in a blur without a word.
Despite everything, she giggled. Because beneath the loneliness, the worry for the absent Lindir and Elrond and Celebrian, she was pretty sure she'd just won her first verbal spar with Glorfindel, because her belly rumbled. She guffawed. Brilliant.
She set the box onto the table, taking one last chance to trace the intricate carvings before taking her seat once more, ignoring the ache in her hollow stomach. Usually, Lindir would have fetched them both something to eat by then, but she'd dealt with worse hunger, and by the strange absences, and the erratic movements of Mereneth, she wasn't ashamed to admit she wasn't quite brave enough to go searching for a meal. So, she got back to what she'd become really good at: medical grunt work.
That is, until between one blink and the next, Glorfindel was back, startling her so badly that she yelped, heart rocketing in her chest. He knelt before her, head cocked to one side, and although the cartoonish confusion from before was wiped from his face, and the skin between his brows was smooth, she just knew, somewhere, deep down, he was laughing at her shock.
Her scowl was half formed, when he pushed something towards her and her nose wrinkled at the smell of hot soup. Her stomach gave a low whine and pop, eager for the food it sensed, but she paused, one eyebrow quirking up.
"Is this the part where you poison me?"
This time, he did roll his eyes. "And be accused of trying to murder you by Lindir, again?" He scoffed. "I think not."
He pushed the bowl towards her again, scowling at her reluctance. "Take it. Before I give it to someone less obstinate."
Cautiously, she did, and this time, when their fingers brushed, she noticed. The skin of his fingers was smooth, and she wondered, just briefly, that if she touched his palms, if they would instead be rough from his swords.
Feeling a little awkward from the peace offering, she stared at a point just past the tip of his left ear. "Thanks. I appreciate it."
He hummed and stood, and from this angle, she felt impossibly small next to him. "I am many things, Leda Ackerman. But I am not one to purposefully allow starvation in refugees."
This time, he made to leave quickly, sparing her the skin-flaying by-product of his heavy gaze. She brought the bowl up to her mouth, bereft of a utensil and slurped loudly. It was watery. And she spied some small bits of potatoes, but it was spiced nicely, and fragrant, and more than ever, she was just thankful that they'd chosen to share their food with her. Stretching what she was sure were minimal resources to feed a woman no one wanted.
She thought he'd left. But his voice startled her when she finished, causing the bowl to slip from her grasp and noisily clatter to the floor.
He was leant along the doorframe, the most relaxed she had ever seen him: arms loosely crossed against his chest, head titled so that his hair fell forward, splayed across his grey tunic in golden sheets. Blue lamplight swirled across this face, hollowing his knife-edge cheek bones as he stared down at her with an emotion she couldn't hope to understand.
"When the Realm was new, and had seen its first marring, Yavanna crafted the Two Trees to bring light to Valinor. They were twins, gold and silver, Laurelin and Telperion. They were beautiful and…" He swallowed, a shadow falling over his face but for once, it wasn't anger at her, but a quiet sadness. She didn't know why he was choosing to tell her this, but she made an effort not to move an inch. She didn't want anything to distract – to break this truce between them he had decided to enact.
His gaze turned hot, searing into hers. And his voice was so even, so melodious that it almost turned into a chant, a song bouncing around inside her head until an ebb of fear she knew wasn't hers, bled through into her chest. "The Black Foe destroyed them. Bled the light from their roots with Ungoliant and everything was night. The first kin slaying rose from their burnt husks and death was known to the deathless. All of Edhelkind was forever changed. Those leaves have not been seen by Edhel eyes for thousands of your years."
Leda's throat felt very dry. She remembered finding him in the Cave Garden, a leaf clasped tightly but softly in his palm, head tipped back, moonlight shining on his face as he spoke words she couldn't hear. "The way you speak and act…it was almost as if you were there. When they were destroyed."
Something shuttered over his eyes. The fear that wasn't hers bled away, leaching back from where it had attached itself to her heart. She felt like she could breathe again.
"That is because I was."
Leda's fingers twitched in her lap, and the movement seemed to snap him out of his story. He straightened, as if to leave but Leda stopped him, voice wispy.
"Please take them." She said, feeling raw as she gestured to the box on the table. "They mean a lot to you. To the other Edhel. Take them."
He stared and sighed, shoulders seeming to lose an inch of their stiffness. "No. If they were meant for me or us, then they would have revealed themselves. But they did not. They showed themselves to you."
Leda's tone grew desperate. "But why? Why me?"
He stepped back, half out of the doorway. The shadows gathered at his chest, his hair straining against the dark, eyes two flames that roamed around her body.
"That is what I cannot understand." And then he was gone. Leaving Leda more confused but strangely, less alone.
. . .
"Ah. I thought I would find you here."
Hathil had asked her to wait outside the Halls of Healing while she spoke to Mereneth, and like clockwork, when she was in close proximity to the hole that looked out to the mountain side, the heat bloomed under her chest, feet on autopilot as they took her as close as she could get, leaning her elbows up to balance on the window ledge.
Olorin's voice did not startle her like Glorfindel's had before. It washed over her like a calm breeze as he crept out of the shadows beside her. He was usually bereft of a glow around him like the Edhel, but tonight, his grey robes seemed to emit their own, dim light.
He leaned against the rock wall, staring down his bent nose at her with something close to mischievousness.
"Laurefindil has said he oft sees you here."
Leda rolled her eyes lazily, turning back to the mountain, cocking her head and squinting into the dark, she recognised the second name for Glorfindel only Olorin seemed to use.
"I assume he's lurking around some corner," she grinned easily. There was something about watching the mountain that calmed her. The pit in her chest was very far from there. "Ready to stick me with a sword if I so much as breathe incorrectly."
Olorin hummed, turning to watch the same mountain she was. "You know, I rather think he might be."
She laughed, settling comfortably against the ledge.
"Are you here to accuse me of something as well?"
He chuckled. "No. Though I would ask you to humour me. What is it that captures your mind, so?"
She sighed, gesturing towards the other mountain side, part-obscured by the dark night. "You're going to think I'm insane."
"More insane than you emerging from a still lake in the middle of a battle?"
She snorted. "Touché."
"That word is unfamiliar to me, but I would still like to know what has invaded your thoughts."
She debated not telling him, but then reasoned, if she couldn't tell a mythical wizard the weird occurrences she found herself then, then she really was at a loss.
"I keep thinking that it's…breathing." She whispered it, as though afraid of the truth herself.
She expected mirth or teasing, but instead he sounded only curious. "How did you come to that conclusion?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I think I see it moving. Up and down. Like a chest would when breathing." She shook her head as if to dispel the impossibility. "But when I squint, when I try to check…nothing. Like it never moved at all. I keep thinking it's just a trick of the light but…"
"But?" he prompted when she trailed off. She could feel his eyes, stuck to the side of her face. But unlike Glorfindel's gaze, it didn't burn. The track of his eyes was cool, soothing. Like water.
She could try to explain the heat in her chest, the way she seemed compelled to the window each time she passed it, but the words wouldn't come.
"But nothing." She said dismissed, finally tearing her eyes away from the mountain with some difficulty. "It's not like there's something there, right? You said the Giants are long gone. And in between interrogating me, Glorfindel said they weren't here anymore."
He hummed. But the sudden gleam in his eye had her blurting a question she felt as if she hadn't even thought.
"If they were here and awake, would you ask them?"
"Ask them?" He said curiously.
"To help. To fight. Before you said you'd like to have seen them in battle. If they were here and you could wake them. Would you?"
His lips quirked into a smile. "Would you?"
Her mind flashed to the supposedly explosive metals on Elrond's desk. The weapons he wished he could use but would prove unpredictable and volatile. Would she unleash a beast so powerful even a real honest to god wizard would be apprehensive? She Shuddered. No. It would go against everything she believed in, to cause harm and not heal. She'd have to be desperate. And even then?
Whatever her answer, it was lost with the arrival of Hathil, whose appearance broke the spell.
"I best be off." Leda smiled.
He nodded, pulling out his pipe and bid her farewell. When she turned at the last moment as she often did, to peer into the window once more, she found Olorin turned not towards the mountain, but to her. Puffing on his pipe. This far away, his face was only a blur, but Leda knew, without a doubt, that he could see her far more clearly than she could him. She wondered what he saw.
. . .
Leda should have known the end had come by how normal the day was. For two days in a row, Hathil had come to get her in the mornings. She'd tried to tamper down some of her disappointment that Lindir was still missing but something must have shown on her face as she twiddled with the damp ends of her hair on the ways to the Halls of Healing because Hathil spoke unprompted for the first time.
"Lindir will be along." Hathil said, ushering her into the large cave. She eyed Leda's wide answering smile with something that, on someone else, may have been an answering smile. But on Hathil it was a small, softening by her eyes. "Go to Gildor, Mereneth will call when she needs you."
Leda nodded quickly, eager. What a great day it was beginning to be. "Thank you, Hathil."
Hathil watched her peculiarly. "I am glad to have met a Secondborn. You are not what I thought you to be. Be safe."
And then she was gone, winding through the curtained rooms of the Halls and out of sight. Leda spared only a small space of time to be confused about the strange farewell. Edhel were always saying strange things, she brushed off.
"Hathil said that Lindir was finally going to turn up!" She exclaimed, bursting into Gildor's room. But the second body stole her attention immediately and made her miss the way Gildor's eyes tightened, the way his mouth thinned.
"Did you miss me?" Lindir rasped, turning from where he was looking out of the window by Gildor's desk. Her giddiness, her happiness, all fizzled sharply to shock.
"What happened to your face?" She gasped, jerking footsteps bringing her close to him. Her physician's mind took over, cataloguing the injuries: deep periorbital haematoma on left side, not likely to be an orbital fracture but without X-Ray hard to know. He was favouring his left side and there seemed to be a slight stiffness to right hand, possible phalange fracture in index distal bone slightly bent. Split upper lip vermillion. She scanned the rest of him, only relaxing slightly at no visible other injuries.
"What happened?" She demanded again, and despite her pushiness, he smiled, and then winced, as he pulled at the red crusted cut on his top lip.
"I felt your absence too." He said, still raspy. The sound worried her and she pushed him gently, to sit on the bed.
Gildor stood by the door. When she shot him a look, he smiled, strained, the hand at his side drumming his fingers on his leg. His ears too, moved, quick, agitated shifts that moved his freshly braided her. Something was upsetting him. Something was wrong. And only then did she notice his attire. Fresh, dark tunic and leather trousers. He even had boots on, rather than the usual, grey soft shoes he usually wore, twins to her own.
"Where have you been? What happened?" She asked again, pulling her gaze back to Lindir. Up close, the bruising was even worse, a deep ugly purple, blue tinges on the edges. His eye was almost swollen shut but his good eye roamed her face, it was gentle and when she looked into it. Sorry.
"There was a skirmish." He said, holding his right hand to his chest. She longed for the stethoscope she'd gifted to Elrond. She wanted to check his lungs. If he even had lungs, that is. But she knew she'd feel better with them in her hands. Grounded. In control. And not like she did now, panic creeping back in at the thought of him out there with the monsters. The pit in her chest doubled in size.
"What? Where?" Unconsciously, her hand flitted up to her neck, fingers dancing around where the Orc had strangled her. Gildor answered instead.
"They have been amassing in greater numbers." He came around the bedside, to stand next to her. Even with him sitting on the high bed, Leda was still shorter than Lindir, and with Gildor's long, willowy frame next to her, she tamped down the unconscious response to flee from being crowded. "A quick coordinated offensive strike was needed to cull the first of the scouts and foot soldiers to create time."
If she was paying attention, she would have had enough sense to note the position of his words – understand them as he was trying to say but she was having such a good day, determined to just be happy to have Lindir back that she missed it. Like she had missed all the warnings and absences.
"But you're, ok, Lindir?" Leda breathed, fingers twitching to run an assessment but thinking better of it. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
Lindir smiled again, slowly, as not to hurt his lip, and dipped his head into a quick nod. "I'll live. But if you'd like to fuss over me, I shall not stop you."
She managed a quick grin. "Don't push it. I bet you'd be an even worse patient than Gildor was."
Gildor huffed. "I was struck a mortal blow by a poisoned blade, being prodded by a small Edain who had emerged from still waters. You will forgive me my curiosityat your instruments."
She laughed, making Gildor momentarily lose his severity. But then his mirth dimmed, and he was serious again, and finally, she saw the braids in his hair, so like when they had first met, saw the gloves on his hands, and on the desk, what Lindir had been staring at before she'd seen him. Armour.
A chill settled over her bones, bleeding down her spine like an epidural, and all the things she missed came into sharp focus.
"What did you mean?" Her voice sounded as raspy as Lindir's. "What did you mean when you said to create time, Gildor?"
Gildor didn't sigh. Didn't move. But his face became even graver. And when she looked to Lindir, his good eye seemed smaller. Sadder. Sorry.
"Create time for what?" She asked, shrill.
The pitch of her voice seemed to droll around them and she flinched, thinking somehow that the magic had affected her too, that she could boom her voice like the others could. She opened her mouth, but then another dong sounded through the room and then another and another until she realised her mistake: a bell. With each droll Lindir and Gildor seemed to tense, with the former standing, walking to the armour.
"To escape." Gildor said solemnly, between the beat of one gong and the next. The bell ringing stopped and then, in the midst of the silence, shouts, the sound of feet, so absent from usual Edhel walking that the noise made her skin crawl.
"To-to escape?" The world tilted on its axis. And suddenly her good day crumpled as Gildor produced her bag, which she hadn't even realised she'd left in the room. He held it out, and her fingers trembled as she reached out for it. The material, which had once felt comforting, now felt horrific. Too rough after the Edhel's soft clothing and towels, too foreign in the Stronghold.
This couldn't be happening. She thought she had more time.
"What does the bell mean?" She whispered. Even though she knew the answer, understood now what had been staring her in the face for days.
Gildor didn't seem to be able to reply. And as her panic grew, her grip on the bag loosened until it fell onto Gildor's bed. Only then did she realise that it had been made. Bereft of the crumpled sheets that usually adorned it. Ready for a new day. A new patient.
"I came only to say goodbye." Lindir said quietly, turning to face her. His good eye shined bright.
The air whooshing out of her.
"Goodbye?" The blood pounding in her ears made her voice sound far away. No. No. No. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
She'd felt this before. This shock. The day they'd come to tell her that Mum was gone and Dad was the only suspect. That day had been good too. She'd made a cake for their return. Bought their favourite record on vinyl after out bidding someone on Ebay. Everything was good until it wasn't. And now it was happening again. She wasn't supposed to go so soon. They were supposed to have time to say goodbye. Not this. Not this horrible, pit in her chest that twisted until it hurt.
Lindir walked to her, far quicker than she thought him capable of with his injuries, and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. He dipped his head so that his dark braids fell against her cheeks. When she caught his good eye, she found it impossible to look away.
"Olarnae will come for you. She will take you down to the tunnel and you will leave with the other evacuees-"
"No." She said firmly. What was happening? Why was he saying that? His grip tightened when she shook her head. "No."
"You will go with them." His voice, despite the softness in his face, the sadness, was hard, like rock. Unmoving. "When you emerge, you will wait with the others. Olorin will find you-"
"No!" She shook off his hold, stepping back angrily, arms coming up to hug her sides. To keep her together from where the twisting pit in her chest threatened to break her apart.
"Olorin will find you." He repeated, undeterred by her pulling away. He closed the gap between them, unwilling to let her dodge his hands as he settled them on her arms.
"He will bring you back." Lindir said, desperate now. The bell tolled again, knocking inside the room and her bones and her heart.
"No. I was supposed to have days. Olorin said twenty days. It's not been that long." She gasped. "Lindir-"
"I know." He soothed. She felt sick. "I know. But you will be safe."
"But you won't." Was that her voice? So shrill. So fearful?
He tried to smile, but it didn't pass to his good eye and as the light hit his grey iris, she thought she may have seen a slight mist.
"I am glad to have known you." He said softly, crouching, kneeling, gently unwinding her hands from around her torso, holding her hands between his. His palms engulfed hers, curling around until each part of her hands were lost beneath his. It was the most they had been in contact, and she thought, maddeningly, he's going to die. "I will remember you always."
She shook her head, tried to pull away. But unlike the other times she'd shunned his contact, he held tight, leaned close. His hands were like steel, but his hold was gentle.
"Be good. Have joy and laughter. We will always be-"
"Come with me." She whispered, twisting her hands to hold onto his instead. She tugged. "You and Gildor. Come with me. Then- then you'll be safe. Come-"
He shook his head, allowing her to pull him close, until their breath mingled. "Nay. You know we cannot."
"But you'll be safe. You don't have to fight. You're already injured."
They were so close that she saw his sadness bleed to frustration, but she cut him off when he opened his mouth, ignoring the warning signs again.
"No- Leda-"
The bell dinged again, long and low. "We can all go together – you'll be safe-"
"Leda- cease-"
"– you don't have to fight-"
"No!" His voice, blended with another bell toll, with the sound of running feet, with the shouts, startling her out of her state. Only then did she feel him tug at her hold, wincing as she crushed his hand.
"I'm s- I'm sorry." She croaked. "I'm sorry I don't know-"
"Do you still think so little of me? Of my station?" His voice was quiet, eye downcast. Different from his usual anger, from his annoyance. This new thing, this new disappointment. It cut her deeper than before.
"No- Lindir-"
He shook his head. Stood, pulled once, for her to release his hands and she let him go. Knowing irrevocably that she'd never see him again. That they'd never be again.
"You have learned nothing." He said, voice low. He turned, walked quickly to the door, each footstep another bell gong. the bell. He turned at the last moment, face somewhere stuck between frustration and sadness. Her stomach swooped. The pit swelled, forcing her to say the words she'd wailed into her empty house when they told her Mum was missing and presumed dead.
"Please don't leave." She whispered.
"You still do not understand." He said, grimacing. "Where you I am."
"I do- I do."
"I should have listened. I should have heeded the warnings."
"No." She whispered. "No I understand- Olorin showed me-"
"And yet you still cannot see!" He barked, disappointment bleeding over. "You still cannot see outside of yourself."
"Please." She shook her head, eyes hot and clouding with tears that stung. "I didn't mean- I was only trying to-"
"You would take my station from me?" He asked. And it was the lack of anger in his voice that made his words intolerable. "You would strip me of my duty and form me into a hapless babe? You would deny me my right to defend my people? For all you the Secondborn do burn brightly. But it is a dull burn. Soulless. You do not understand. You do not."
And between one blink and the next, he was gone.
She stared at the doorway, blinking. She stood so long that by the time Gildor's voice travelled to her, the bells had stopped and a new Edhel, a young woman, was standing in the empty space left behind from Lindir. Behind her, she could hear the quiet sounds of armour being clipped into place. Could hear the grunt of Gildor as he stood. The crunch of his plated boots as he tested his weight. But it felt far from her. His gaze stung the side of her face. Peeling back the skin.
She started as a hand landed on her shoulder. Gildor now stood in front of her, looking the saddest she had ever seen him, splendent in his armour. He was the Gildor who saved her. The Gildor who fought wars.
As their eyes met, and Leda knew that there was no going back. That later, she might look back and see that there was a time before and then there was now. And now sucked.
"There is no time." He said, squeezing her shoulder. "It is upon us. And I mourn the days we could have..." He trailed off, hand lifting to wipe across her cheek, smearing the tears that she hadn't felt fall. "Regret is the curse of us Edhel. I am glad to have known you."
"I- I-"
"I know." He said softly, his hand cupping her cheek. "I know. But it is time. You must go." He straightened, taking a deep breath and winced as it exhaled. A horrible thought popped into her head. He's going to die, too, she thought in despair.
"And so must I." He gave her one last smile, stilling when she reached to grab his hand. He brought her hand to his mouth, pressed her fingers to his lips and then turned to the new Edhel.
"Deliver her well." The woman nodded, solemn.
Gildor paused before ducking out, turned to her with steely resolve. "Be safe on your journey home, Little Leda. I hope we do not meet again."
And then he was gone. The pit swelled, feeding on her grief.
. . .
Olarnae did her job perfectly but silently, depositing Leda at the back of a long line of elves, queuing for something around a tunnel bend that she couldn't see.
"Thank you." Leda murmured, but when she looked up, the woman was gone. Leda saw the dip of her dark hair curling back through the dark tunnel and sighed. Her fingers tightened their grip on her backpack. Alone again.
There were tens of elves in front of her. Some bleary eyed. Some wide eyed. Others stared unseeingly. Some were injured, leaning heavily on others, red-stained bandages wrapped around their limbs. She'd never seen so many elves gathered together outside of the Halls of Healing. They were fleeing. And Leda was going with them.
How was she going to get back to the river? She panicked. How was she going to get back home? The gate closed tomorrow. Who knew how long it would stay open after. Ho was Olorin going to find her in all this mess?
"I will meet you on the other side."
She jumped, hand flying to her chest. She was no longer the last in line. Olorin stood behind her, leaning on the staff she knew he didn't really need in order to walk.
"This tunnel is a one way system." He explained when she didn't speak. "Once all evacuees are within the tunnel, it will seal behind them. A secondary shaft will open and you will arrive miles from here in what we hope will be safety."
"How do I know you'll be able to find me?" Her voice was paper thin, almost lost in the quiet. The line moved forward, and she followed on feet that seemed to drag.
"My song does not end here." He said simply. "And I suspect, neither does yours. I will find you."
"What's going to happen to everyone else? Will they…" Her throat dried, she couldn't speak the words.
Olorin breathed deeply. "That I know not. But the Edhel have faced larger contingents and battles. Take comfort in that, Leda."
She almost laughed. Comfort. What comfort could she ever feel again?
The line moved, until she was the last. She turned, refusal to go on the tip of her tongue, but Olorin beat her to it.
"You must go." He said, serious. "This is your last escape and the only guarantee that you will make it back."
"I know, but-"
He pushed her back gently, her feet sliding across the threshold of the tunnel.
"Wait for me on the other side. I will find you. You are like a void, Leda Ackeman. I need only look for where my eye cannot see." Olorin bade, and then she was being pushed deeper into the tunnel by the bodies crammed inside.
"Wait- Olorin-" His form grew smaller the further she was pushed inside. She knocked into a woman and then a man, apologised through a throat that threatened to close. The Edhel around her were weeping, beautiful faces contorted into such sorrow that it threatened to overwhelm her too.
Olorin stood, watching her be moved to and fro. Claustrophobia closed in, as everyone was forced closer. There were three guards by the door. All looking grim. And as the last few elves spilled in, they began to close the door which was a hinge of rock it took all three of them to push.
As the gap closed, the pit in Leda's stomach. The bell sounded again, louder in the tight space. And with each toll the thought repeated. They're going to die. They're going to die.
Her foot twitched. The bell tolled. An flashed in her mind; gold metal encased in oil and a mountain that breathed. And then she broke into a run. She shouldered past Edhel, ignoring their shouts, shrugging off the hands that tried to grab her, to pull her back into safety. Her thighs burned, her lungs tightened. The door was almost shut, barely enough space for a human body but she gave one last push, and leaped through the thin opening before it sealed shut.
She hit the floor hard, rolling on impact. It pushed the air from her lungs and she gasped, trying to gulp in air that felt thin. She rolled onto her back. Blinking into the shadowy tunnel.
What the hell has she just done?
"So." Olorin mused. She turned her head, panting and found him grinning down at her, leaning on his staff. For the dumbest decision she'd ever made, he looked ridiculously pleased with himself and her. "You've made your choice. I assume that means you have a plan?"
Leda groaned, feeling as if she'd run a marathon. "Not exactly." She said between pants. "I have about half of an idea."
He leaned his hand down to pull her up. The tunnel tipped and then righted itself, but the pit in her chest was strangely still.
"Well." He mused. "That is still technically a plan."
A/N: Hi everyone, thank you so much for all the kind words and for just being generally the best community of readers. I was feeling really rubbish about not updating but your support really helped me to get this next chapter together. I haven't responded to your kind comments yet - I'll get to replying when I get back from my holiday. But I just wanted to say how amazed I am at how far this story has come, and from the response. I appreciate everyone's comments and likes and kudos, but I am just amazed at the thoughtful things you say - whether they are positive or negative, everyone is so respectful and I just truly think I've been able to become a better writer from your kindness. From the bottom of my heart thank you.
I have only proof read this chapter once, so apologies if it's a little disjointed. It's also very long, so I hope you enjoy it - we even had some Glorfindel! Which I for one, am surprised at because I was seriously considering changing this to Leda/Lindir because I accidentally wrote them very softly lol.
Find me on twitter at: aobh_fanfiction if you'd like to chat about why Alucard=Glorfindel lol
Lots of love always,
Aobh (: