Know your own happiness. Want for nothing but patience - or give it a more fascinating name: Call it hope.
— Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
I had seen tapestries in Minas Tirith that depicted the end of the war in the First Age, Morgoth defeated, and the celebrations that ensued. The joy on the men and Elves' faces; the stars shined brighter, cheering and merriment all meticulously woven on a loom for future generations to wonder at. That's how the songs always went as well.
But we did not cheer, or even make a sound. The relief made me feel empty inside, and Monte lurched away from us and threw up. No one said anything for a while, wondering at the news, until Isobel spoke for us all.
"What now?" she whispered.
We had no choice but to carry on. Injured soldiers needed to be sewn up and bandaged and sent on their way if they could walk. Some of the captains began to lead them out of Mordor to North Ithilien to set up camp there. But with the steady stream of soldiers making their way through Mordor, we could not yet leave. We still had work to do.
Three days later, many men had staggered towards us in various states, but I had not seen an Elf among them, or had any news of our king. I imagined that he had killed Sauron himself, but wondered why no one was speaking of it. None of the men wanted to speak much about the final battle at all and we did not press them. I wondered how Anarion was - surely his brother and father would have kept him safe.
I longed to sink into Glorfindel's arms and weep and weep and weep. It was the only thing that kept me from screaming out loud.
"It hurts, Mistress Healer," murmured a man, feverishly, as I tried to remove a shard of orc blade from his shin. His wound desperately needed proper cleaning or would go septic; his best bet was to make for North Ithilien where the air was cleaner.
"I know, brave soldier," I said, bracingly, giving him a wide smile. "All over soon," I promised, picking out the last shard. The blood thickened around the wound and I staunched it. It was still too dark to see properly, but I thought he had a good chance to get out of this hell and into fresh air. I wrapped his leg tightly. We were running out of bandages.
"Fish Girl!" came a voice.
"Denvy!" I cried softly, spotting my friend. I stumbled over to him and embraced him gently. He was filthy, covered in blood and yet, whole and grinning. "I have never been so glad to see you!"
He was, rather unbelievably, unhurt, although tired and worn out. He accepted some water, and told me, dramatically, he had seen it with his own eyes.
"Seen what?" I asked.
"Elendil and Gil-Galad destroy the Enemy!" he cried. Some of the healers turned to look at him, and I noticed the men shuddered. Denvy told us that tale with relish, jumping up to show us the moves that Elendil had used, and how Gil-galad had been so quick with his spear. Elendil's sword had been broken, which was taken by the men as a bad omen.
"And then, Sauron fell! But not before taking everyone else around him with him. Did you feel it? We were all thrown back by the force of it! Strange dark magic, it was, that killed all the men and Elves near him," said Denvy, shaking his head.
"Elendil dead?" asked Thavron, in a strange, flat voice.
"Yes, and Gil-galad, too. Well, Minnow, I will make for North Ithilien now," he said. Nothing could dampen Denvy's moods, I thought, as he sauntered off towards Gondor. I was not sad that Elendil had died, but Gil-galad! How was Glorfindel and Elrond to bear this bitter blow? They loved him dearly. And I cared about him too. He was what I thought a king should be, and a good friend to Glorfindel.
Poor Glorfindel; he was always plagued by the death of his friends. Tears pricked my eyes, and I think I would have started crying if I had not seen Thavron manoeuvring a wagon. I stared at him, confused. Varin stood up from where he had been leaning over a patient and looked at him.
"I will recover the body of my king," said Thavron, stoutly. I gaped at him.
"And how are you going to find him in Mordor?" snapped Varin.
"He's my family and I will bring back his body so it can be buried properly!" cried Thavron.
The two of them stared at each other, and I felt something pass between them, unspoken.
"I will stay here in your place, but someone must go with you, Thav," said Varin, softly. He looked at Astro, large and strong but he blanched. No one wanted to go further into Mordor.
Who knew what horrors were there?
"I'll go," I said. I was scared to go, too, but I wanted to find my friends - to make sure Elrond and Glorfindel were safe, and Anarion. But mostly, I didn't want Thavron to go alone. He and Elendil's relationship had been a strange one; frayed and toxic, but he was Thavron's cousin. Of course Thavron was upset.
Thavron nodded at me, and together we coaxed the horse to traverse the strange dry and hot terrain. It was a lonely walk into increasing darkness. I pulled the scarf closer over my mouth and nose. Dust was thick in the air.
We passed a lot of dead bodies: men, Elves, orcs and some I could not tell what exactly they were. It took a long time to navigate around them and we were slow.
Thavron didn't speak and I didn't know what to say. But I hoped my presence was enough to convey what I felt.
A few men passed us and asked where the healers were - I pointed behind me, and asked where the king was. At last, the volcano came into view. It was now unbearably hot, and I was sweating profusely. My hair was a frizzy halo that was constantly escaping my headscarf.
Eventually we came upon large groups of men standing, listening to their captains giving orders. It seemed that they had spent a lot of time hunting orcs who had tried to run away even after Sauron fell. I admired their tenacity but really, surely it would be better simply to leave now?
I saw a group of Elves far away and longed to run over to them, but I had my duty to do.
"We have come to recover the king's body," I said, when it was clear that Thravron wasn't going to say anything. Looking over at him, he seemed on the edge of tears.
The captain nodded at me. "I will take you to him."
I wondered if he had expected us. Where were Isildur and Anarion, I thought, desperately. Why weren't they here? Why had they not recovered the body? What were they doing?
We walked to the edge of a large crater. In the gloaming, I could see a large group of guards with spears in the centre, protecting something. Thavron marched into the crater as if it were a walk in the park.
I scrambled down into the crater, tripping over the debris. As I stepped towards the guards I saw what they were protecting.
Elendil looked like a fallen statue. Half-covered by the black sooty earth of Mordor, his large glassy eyes looked up towards the stars. He lay on his back in full armour and was half sunk into the ground.
And next to him was the remains of something that felt distinctly evil. Intimidating and cruel-looking black armour had shrivelled and melted into the ground. Where the inhabitant had gone, I could not tell. It seemed as though he had vanished into thin air. I was clearly looking at the remains of the dark lord.
He was gone, but every feeling revolted. There were shivers up my spine and all my senses were telling me to run far away.
"Valar help us," I muttered.
Suddenly, something grabbed my ankle. I screeched, and it tightened its grip. I fell to my knees and took out my knife, ready to stab the monster (an orc?!) who had me in its grip, but as soon as I raised my weapon to slash at it, I hesitated.
It was a hand, a pale hand. And on it was a ring. It was no orc hand, I realised. It was also no human hand.
"Thavron!" I screamed.
He rushed over to me, and together, we scrabbled in the dirt, like dogs, showing the rocky debris, and charred body parts out of our way. The person was deep in the pit, and only the terror of them being buried alive kept me going. The smell became even more fetid as we dug. Soon we had most of his arm out of the debris, and were looking for the person's head.
At last, with our fingernails bleeding, we found him. It was Gil-galad, as I had hoped. His eyes were closed, and his pale face was streaked red with blood and black with Mordor's foul dust. There was a wound on his head that was filled with Mordor dirt.
Thavron checked his pulse at his throat. "It is low, but his heart still beats!" He said, wondrously. We shared a look.
Thavron managed to hook his arms under Gil-galad's armpits, and together we pulled his body out of the put.
Thavron instructed the guards, who had refused to move from their fallen king's side to help us, to carry Elendil out the crater and put him on the wagon. It took ten of them to move him. Meanwhile, we lifted Gil-galad onto a stretcher, and shakily and clumsily, we hoisted him out of the crater. My muscles screamed in agony and I was panting loudly. He was not as heavy as I thought he would be, but he was taller than most men and it is always difficult to move dead weight.
Finally out of the crater, I waved my arms at the Elves. We had carried Gil-galad as far as we could, and we were exhausted.
"Gil-galad lives! He lives!" I shouted as loud as I could in Sindarin.
They were far away, but they had keen ears. I sank to my knees and started coughing. I thought I could see an Elf run towards us. We waited a few minutes for the Elf to arrive.
It was Erestor.
"Minnow!" he cried, surprised to see me.
"He grabbed my ankle in the crater and we pulled him out of the debris, he's alive!" I said, breathlessly.
"How is this possible?" breathed Erestor, kneeling beside Gil-galad. He stroked his forehead and said something in Quenya. Gil-galad's eyes fluttered under his eyelids. I looked up at Erestor's solemn face.
"Elrond, he needs Elrond!" I spluttered.
"One of his lungs has collapsed," said Thavron, who was examining Gil-galad's body. I think he was happy to be healing and not think of his grief. "And his right leg has been broken in three places."
"Elrond has gone to Mount Doom, but there are other healers who can help him. We will take him from here," said Erestor. He whistled and another Elf ran towards him, and together, they picked up the stretcher, and ran off into the night with it like it weighed nothing.
"We have done our best, Minnow. The Elves will take care of him now," said Thavron.
"Why has Elrond gone to Mount Doom?" I asked. We were standing close to the base of it now. It was noisy, noisier than anything I had ever heard before. It felt as if the earth beneath our feet was grumbling. I could not imagine what they gone up the volcano for.
"There is more to this than we know or understand. I believe it is always the way when dark magic is involved," said Thavron.
I nodded. We walked over to the wagon that held Elendil and followed behind it. I hoped that we could all leave Mordor today. Why were we delaying?
Thavron nodded towards to the right of the volcano. In the dusty haze, I was sure I saw Annie sitting down on some rocks. I looked up at Thavron and he squeezed my hand and went to tend to the wagon. I ran over to Annie.
"We should leave now!" I said. But he didn't look up at me, or even acknowledge my presence.
I paused, unsure, but after a while he spoke.
"After much discussion, Elrond has taken my brother into the very fires of Mount Doom," said Annie, quietly. He was looking at a broken sword in his hands. I realised it must be his father's.
"Annie," I started, before realising I had to address him properly now. "King Anarion…"
"Don't," he said, weakly. I swallowed.
"Why have Elrond and your brother gone into Mordor? What business do they have there? I wish we would leave this place. I really think we should leave now."
Annie finally looked at me. "I await my brother. Sauron had a ring, a ring of power. It must be destroyed."
There is always something else, I thought, bitterly. What on Middle Earth's green earth was a ring of power?
"Elrond said it needs to be unmade in Mount Doom," he carried on.
"Well, I'm sure they'll destroy it," I said, trying to be comforting. "Elrond is wise and learned, and Isildur is powerful. They will not fail in this task."
"I would not be so sure about that," he said, softly, almost to himself.
"Annie?" I asked, alarmed.
"Our father is dead. The only who could wield any influence over Isildur. He cut it from Sauron's hand himself. My brother claims it as his weregild."
Annie had to explain what a weregild was to me. I had never heard of the concept of accepting a payment in return for a man's loss of family, but apparently it was commonplace in Gondor.
"But it must be Evil! Why would he want it?" I asked, naively.
"This is our curse as Numenoreans! Have you understood nothing? This is the great wave again! This is our doom!" he snapped.
I could see that Annie was slowly but surely being lost to despair. But I thought he was probably right. Isildur would not give up what he thought was rightfully his unless he was made to.
"Your brother loves you," I said, decidedly. "He will listen to you."
Annie stood up and stared down at me.
"You would ask this of me, would you?" he snarled.
"It is your duty!" I cried, alarmed.
"You expect me to venture into the depths of Mordor alone?"
I looked up at the volcano, my heart sinking. It was a heavy task, I thought. But if Elrond had gone with Isildur, then it must be a necessary one.
I wish I knew where Glorfindel was, I thought to myself. I was not made for warfare. I didn't even understand what was happening. But I had to help Elrond.
"No, indeed, I will come with you, even though I am scared," I told him.
I made him take me to his horse, and forced him on it. He looked on the verge of tears and it almost pained me to do it. He had seen battle. He was grieving. But he was supposed to be a king, a leader!
I climbed on the horse too, and gripped his waist. Anarion clipped his heels and the poor horse started cantering towards the volcano. It spurted an orange flurry and we both started.
The volcano was further away than it looked. Its presence loomed large in our vision and it took almost an hour, I thought, for us to reach it.
My thoughts were dark, and I clutched Annie tightly. He was solid, and smelled reassuringly of sweat and leather.
"Are you sure about this, Minnow?" he asked, as we dismounted. He tied his horse to a large rock, stroking his nose comfortingly. Then we looked up at Mount Doom.
At the foot of the volcano, I could see a path. But I did not want to take it. My heart was pounding in my ears and I was on the verge of tears. I hesitated and Annie did, too. I swallowed and closed my eyes, my hand around my necklaces under my tunic. Glorfindel would not hesitate, I told myself. He had known that fighting the balrog would lead to his death, and he had gone anyway, knowing it would kill him. And he had done it for his people.
Annie would not go up this volcano if I did not drag him, I thought to myself. And then he would not have the chance to change Isildur's mind.
But, a little voice in me said, even if he tries his hardest, Isildur may keep this evil ring of power. Even if you manage to climb up this volcano, said the voice, it may all be for nothing.
I felt a pang of anger at the weakness of men. I wanted to push Annie and Isildur into the volcano itself! What would the ring of power do to Gondor? What evil would Sauron's object wreak? These stupid Numenoreans! Always deceived in the Enemy, always thinking they could get the upper hand. The sheer arrogance of men.
At that moment, I had never hated Isildur more.
Then something rose in me. I took a step, and then another. Haltingly, and clumsily, but at last, I was climbing the mountain.
"Come on, Anarion!" I shouted into the strong wind. "We can do this!" I checked to make sure he was behind me, and he was, slowly clambering up the mountain.
I was thirsty and tired, and my fingernails were already bleeding from digging through the mud, but I could feel adrenaline pumping through my veins like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was windy as we climbed up, and I shouted encouragement to Annie the whole way.
"Valar help me," I whispered to myself. "I cannot do this alone." I felt a tear fall down my cheek, and I felt my heart rising for a brief second. You can do this, Minnow! I told myself. You must do this.
I kept climbing. Sweat was running down my face and I took my headscarf off and wiped my brow with it before retying it. I was the filthiest I had ever been, and I felt itchy all over. I was not meant to be here, I thought, wretchedly. I was supposed to be by water, near a meadow, close to the sea. I was not built for a dry, hot and humid wasteland where nothing grew.
I wrapped the cloth around my mouth my tightly. I would not be defeated by a fecking evil volcano!
"Almost there!" I cried at Annie.
Suddenly, I realised we had reached a small plateau.
There was a chasm into the volcano. I silently thanked the Valar that we didn't have to climb up any further. Elrond and Isildur must be through the passageway, I thought. Annie stood besides me and we looked at it.
And then my burst of energy left me, and I was filled with the horror of where we were.
"I cannot go any further," I told Annie in a warbling voice. Indeed, I could not. My fear had taken hold of me and I was shaking, as much with exhaustion as nervousness. As I looked at the glowing red light coming from the narrow passageway, I sunk to my knees.
A shadow was coming along the passageway and for a second, I wondered if it was Sauron coming back to life.
"YOU!" roared Isildur on seeing me. Behind him, Elrond grabbed his raised arm and pulled him back.
"Isildur!" shouted Anarion.
"You bitch!" Isildur hissed at me, with real venom. "Annie would never have dared climb Mount Doom without your pernicious influence!"
The two brothers locked eyes and I looked between them. Isildur's face looked set and grim.
"So your little harridan has come to persuade me out my weregild. Not even the half-Elf could do that. What use do you imagine a Tolfalasan whore would be against Isildur, high King of Gondor? What right to you have to part me from my ring! It is mine, my own!" he snapped. He raised his hand, and I saw it. A glint of gold in his palm.
I shuddered.
He sounded mad.
"Annie," I pleaded, and he turned and looked down at me. There were tears on my face and I nodded at him, encouragingly.
Anarion turned back and stood firm.
"What would father say?" asked Anarion, softly. "He hated everything about the Deceiver. He said he wanted nothing to do with Sauron. He gave his life to destroy him! How could you betray our father like this?"
Isildur flinched and faltered. Anarion took this opportunity to shove him towards the volcano. They walked through the chasm together.
Now we must hope, I thought. I prayed to the Valar wordlessly.
Elrond sat down on the ground next to me. He was still in full armour.
I wrapped my arms around myself and put my head on my knees and breathed out. Would Anarion be able to convince him? But it seemed other, but no less grim, thoughts were plaguing the half-Elf.
"I have failed," said Elrond, heavily. "I have utterly failed my brother."
I swiftly turned to face him. His face was disconsolate, and his features looked striking and heavy in the Mordor soot.
"No you haven't," I protested. Isildur alone was responsible for his actions.
"Anarion is weak. And Isildur is cruel. I have failed to guide them as I should."
I sighed.
I thought of what Glorfindel had said about Anarion, and about how I was blind to his faults. It could not be denied now. The grief of losing their father must be great, and Mordor had a way of making you feel hollow and on edge, but that shouldn't have stopped them from doing their duty. It seemed what little honour they possessed had died with Elendil.
How could they forget their duty at the most critical point, I wondered. How had anyone thought they could burden the responsibility of leading their people?
"There is still one of Elendil's kin who I would put my faith in," I said, softly.
Elrond turned to me and asked who.
"Elwen."
"Elwen?" he repeated, flabbergasted. I nodded. He frowned and he looked pensive. He probably hadn't thought much of Elwen - indeed the impression she had given most people was of a thoughtless, vain princess who had her eyes on marrying a shiny Elf and didn't care for anything else. But by her own admission, her father had told her to pursue Glorfindel. She could be so much more, I thought, if she were given the chance.
I suddenly realised that I had information to convey to Elrond that I had clean forgotten about.
"Oh, Elrond! Gil-galad is alive! I pulled him from the crater. Erestor is with him now!" I cried, grabbing his armour.
"Alive?" said Elrond, aghast.
I was completely unprepared for Elrond to start crying, but I held him as he sobbed, his hand curling around my tunic, rocking him back and forth. I hoped he would get back in time to save his friend, but I had faith in the other Elvish healers. How relieved Elrond must be feeling, I thought, smiling grimly. He had suffered so much, and lost so many people dear to him.
I'm not sure how long I held Elrond in my arms. It felt like a lifetime, but it was perhaps a few minutes. We only broke apart when we heard a roar.
Elrond's eyes went wide as we looked at each other. He stood up and placed himself in front of me, his hand on his sword. I peered between his legs. What was happening between Anarion and Isildur in the volcano? Had he convinced him? The strange, and crazed look in Isildur's eyes made me think that he was capable of anything. Would he hurt his own brother?
Nothing happened for a long while.
But then, the earth started to shake and the volcano erupted properly.
The two men ran out the volcano, and I realised the person screaming was me.
"It is done. I hope you're pleased now, bitch," snarled Isildur above the noise.
Anarion limped into view and nodded at me. Somehow, he had done it. He had persuaded Isildur where Elrond could not. The ring had been destroyed. It was gone.
But I felt that it had still changed much. And we were not safe yet. Elrond pulled me up.
"It is likely the volcano will destroy everything in its wake," said Elrond. "We must make haste!"
Isildur stalked down the volcano at high speed, and between them, Anarion and Elrond half-carried me down. I slipped several times, but Elrond never faltered. Quickly and sure-footedly, he took us through the gloom down the rocky terrain.
We did not talk, but Annie seemed to be energised. He was not smiling, but there was more purpose to him. I hoped that he had found some inner strength he could rely on.
If I had thought the heat was unbearable and intense, it was moreso now.
I worriedly watched one thin strand of lava snaked its way down the mountainside next to us. Others were following.
Annie scooped me up onto his horse, and I saw Elrond find his. Isildur had already ridden off into the night.
There was no time to lose. The volcano erupted again and as I twisted back to look at it, I could see a huge plume of smoke being thrown into the air. Annie nudged his horse to go faster. We could not afford to get lost in the smoke, I realised. It looked like shooting stars were erupting from the volcano and flying through the air. Some landed shockingly close to us. Lava was now streaming down the mountain, covering it completely.
"Don't look back!" shouted Elrond, seeing me. He encouraged his horse on in Quenya.
The lava was flowing fast, I thought, disconcertedly. Slower than water, but far more devastating. We were now close to where I had left Thavron. Elrond nodded at me and Annie, and veered off towards the Elves. At the healer's tent, we hadn't seen any cross our paths, but Elves were quiet and we could barely see - I wasn't sure how many were left in Mordor. But as I heard Elrond shout at them in Sindarin, I realised I could see their armour glinting in the light of the volcano - there were still thousands of them here.
"ASSEMBLE!" he cried in Sindarin. "We make for Morannon!"
The Elves would march quickly out of Mordor, I realised, watching them jog in unison. Glorfindel must be in their number somewhere.
But the injured men, I thought, they could not go as fast as Elves - even injured Elves.
Annie cantered through his soldiers, issuing similar commands to his captains, galvanising them into action. They started running around, grabbing men and shouting their own commands.
He dropped me on the wagon that held Elendil, which Thavron and his horse were slowly dragging along. We were almost at the healer's tents, I saw. Thavron had not got far; Elendil was too heavy. I was very happy that his dead body had been covered in someone's cloak so I didn't have to look at his face.
"I must find Isildur. You will be safe here," he said, almost patronisingly. I felt a pang of annoyance.
"What did you do to that volcano, Min?" asked Thavron, his worried face illuminated in the red light.
"You don't want to know," I muttered.
It only took a few minutes for us to get to the other healers. They were helping injured soldiers on the wagons.
I looked back at Mount Doom and at the Elves who had swiftly outpaced us. We were too slow, I realised. I saw men limping towards us in their soiled armour, other men holding up their friends and brothers-in-arms. I saw the wagons creak under the weight of the soldiers.
We were not going to make it at this speed.
"ABANDON YOUR ARMOUR!" I screamed. "ABANDON YOUR ARMOUR AND RUN!"
Astro heard me and took up the cry.
"STRIP YOUR ARMOUR!" he shouted in his booming baritone. "STRIP YOUR ARMOUR AND RUN FROM THE VOLCANO!"
Thavron and I piled men into the wagon that held Elendil, ignoring the men's protests and horror. I could see Isobel fast stripping men on the wagon of any armour they were still wearing and throwing it to the wayside. Thavron and Monte threw any men that could not walk into a wagon near them.
"GET YOUR FECKING ARMOUR OFF NOW!" shouted Erik, whacking a large Gondorian soldier with a stick.
That was the spirit, I thought.
The wagons started moving, and I could see the lava chasing us. Many soldiers ran past us, and some on horses galloped over the rocky terrain.
Someone grabbed me by the back of my tunic and lifted me onto a horse. I shouted until I realised who it was. I sat astride, in front of Annie, and I was at my leisure to take in the view.
The sky was lit up and I could see the devastation in its wake. It was beautiful in a way, but also horrifying. Goosepimples across my body told me that I was scared beyond belief. Dimly, I could hear Erik and Thavron shouting in the background.
After a long time of travelling at breathtaking speeds, we had put a fair distance between ourselves and the lava, although it was still moving towards us. I breathed a sigh of relief. We were safe now, I hoped.
"I must speak with Isildur," said Annie. I nodded, dumbly. He dropped me back with Thavron, and while we slowed pace, and he shot off.
A few of the men who could walk jumped off the wagons as we slowed down. We travelled in silence for a while, the unhurt soldiers walked besides us. As we saw the sunlight and the gap in the walls of Mordor, someone started singing. It was a song about finally seeing your sweetheart after a long absence that was familiar to many of the Gondorians, and they all started joining in around me.
I hummed along. Nothing can break the human spirit, I told myself, thinking of Denvy. We fought this together, and together we won.
I drifted in and out of sleep for a while, curled around Isobel and Monte.
Walking out of Mordor, we all breathed in deeper than ever, and took off the scarves and clothes we had wrapped around our faces.
Sunlight, a light breeze, the smell of grass and flowers. That was all I needed to be happy, I told myself, wondering at how normal it looked outside Mordor. There was even birdsong.
As we reached the camp in North Ithilien, we alighted the wagons, which all promptly fell apart. There were healers from Minas Tirith in the camp, who carefully guided the injured men to beds while we watched.
I was glad they had come. None of us had the energy to look after any of our charged.
Varin and Thavron were embracing each other tightly, as were Astro and Isobel to my great surprise. Monte was embracing the ground.
I wanted Glorfindel more than anything. I sank to my knees and started crying and then lay down on the grass like Monte.
Someone approached me, but I didn't care if it was Isildur himself. He would have to kill me as I lay prone.
"Come," said Elrond, kneeling besides me.
"I am utterly spent," I told him, from the ground, my cheek on the grass. He swept me up.
"I believe you have changed the course of Middle Earth, Minnow," said Elrond, half carrying me to the Elvish healing tent. It was not too far from the human one. I watched idly as new healers picked up my friends and took them into the healer's tents. They were the ones who needed healing now.
In the Elvish camp, Elrond sat me down, and made me drink something utterly vile, which made me throw up a lot of black phlegm. He gave me a second dose, and I coughed up more black from my lungs. It hurt my chest, but I could feel it clearing Mordor from my body.
"I will give you the recipe, do not worry," he said, anticipating my question.
"Urgh," I replied.
"You do not understand what you have done. Songs will be sung about you."
"Frankly, I'd rather just have a bath," I said, grimacing. My hair was entirely frizz. Elrond had not washed, but still seemed cleaner than me. He did, however, look dirtier than the other Elves milling about. I could not tell if that's because he was not fully Elvish, or because he had been inside a volcano.
"I thought you'd never ask," he said, with a smile.
He took me to a small and refreshingly cold river, and painstakingly, but gently, washed Mordor's filth from my skin. If I hadn't been practically comatose, it would have been rather humiliating for Elrond to see me in my skivvies, but it was gently done, and I was beyond caring. I was so glad to be clean. And it was nice to have someone else wash my hair. As he dipped my head underwater, I realised I trusted him completely.
The filth from Mordor... it is poisonous," he explained to me. "We need to get it off your skin as soon as possible."
"What about you?" I asked, tiredly.
"I am a lot stronger than you, and can resist its evils better. But I will be washing it from my own skin soon enough."
I muttered something about how it didn't seem right I was the only one mostly naked, and he laughed at me.
As he sponged me clean (where did he get a sponge from, I wondered. Elves!) he told me that Gil-galad was still unconscious, but his spirit was strong. In a few days, Elrond would have recovered his full strength, and be able to heal him completely.
I was so glad.
"I should go to my own healing tent," I said, sleepily, as Elrond tucked me into a camp bed in the healer's tent. "I should be helping."
"You will be easier to find here," said Elrond, rather mysteriously. What did he mean by that, I wondered as I drifted off. Did he mean...?
I was dreaming about the sea when I thought I heard someone say my name. I opened my eyes.
"Minnow," said Glorfindel, his face solemn and wet with tears. He was kneeling next to my bed in full armour, dirt and blood on his face. "My love."
Thank you for the reviews! I love reading them - please let me know what you think about this chapter. I feel like it's a wee bit controversial but I kinda enjoy that. This has been the plan all along. More Glorfindel in the next chapter - this one has been shocking bereft of the glowing elf but he does show up at the end.
Do let me know what you think - I adore the reviews!