Chapter 14: A Knife in the Dark
Galadriel's fingers itched to draw Nimlach as she watched the sickly lights of the orcs pass her in the darkness. Although she knew the night was quiet to mortal ears, the snap of branches under their iron-shod feet rang through her ring-heightened hearing as she waited for them all to pass her position.
"You were able to walk among them, were you not?" Halbrand had asked. "The orcs outnumber us two to one, but with the power of the ring upon you, you can even those odds."
Now Galadriel waited for the fight to begin at the vanguard so that she might have space to prune the rear of the force. With any luck, the orcs would not notice anything was amiss until they'd already sustained heavy losses.
The twang of a bowstring cut through the night like a knife, a flurry of cries and shouts erupting in its wake like the first cascade of drink from a burst wineskin. Galadriel grinned, a feral excitement coursing through her. Slowly she drew her sword and stepped toward the nearest orc.
The elven general had not considered what fighting amidst the mists and glares of Nenya would entail, but as each step brought her behind another unsuspecting victim, she felt a strange sort of glee fill her. It was like a dance. Step forward. Swing. Step to the side to avoid the falling orc. Switch partners and repeat.
At first Galadriel had been careful to pick the orcs straggling at the rear of the formation, so their fellows would not notice their fall. As she fell into the rhythms of the bloody dance, such thoughts melted away. The orcs around her began to cry out in terror as their fellows fell to an indistinguishable blade. In a panic they ran forward, pushing the front lines into the waiting arms of the Southlanders.
Step to the side. Swing. Step back as another body falls. Repeat.
Swords clashed and bowstrings sang. Still Nimlach burned through the ranks of the orcs like a firebrand through a field of chaff. They could not see her. They could only fall to her blade.
Step. Swing. Step. Swing.
The lights around her began to mingle. Orcs interspersed with men amongst the celadon trees. Galadriel forced herself to stop and step back, pulling her awareness from the ring. The abrupt shift in her senses was like a sudden vertigo, leaving her reeling, but a few moments allowed her to regain her bearing.
Battle raged before her. Vision now free of Nenya's haze, Galadriel could see the men and orcs fighting before her, shouts and grunts blending with the ring of steel. The ground between her and them was littered with the bodies of fallen orcs, each taken down with a single neat stroke.
Galadriel pushed forward again, diving back into the fight. No longer hidden by Nenya, she was forced to parry immediately as an unoccupied orc lunged for her. She felt the force of the stroke reverberate up her arm, wrenching at her shoulder even as she absorbed and redirected the momentum of the swing. The orc's head hit the earth with a thud.
More orcs came. Though they now had the opportunity to defend themselves, most still fell to a single ruthless stroke of her blade. The repetitive motions caused time to blur until, at last, no orc strode forward to meet her.
Stepping back a pace, Galadriel surveyed the chaos. Her earlier efforts and the fear inspired by them had eroded any advantage the orcs might have had by their numbers. Now the men, inexperienced though they were, cut down the few remaining orcs easily. Remaining at the rear of the fight, Galadriel watched and neatly dispatched any orcs who tried to flee.
The battle ended shortly after that. The forest floor was drenched in the black blood of the orcs, to the point that even the most battle-hardened among the men looked ill as they were forced to walk across it.
Halbrand, his clothes bloodied and dark in the shimmering firelight, called the army together. "My friends, you have fought bravely. By your efforts, the threat of the orcs in the Dark Lands has been lifted. Your wives and children, parents and siblings may sleep in peace tonight because of you. Let no one who hears of this day doubt the strength of men.
"Now, I ask you to take up torches and search the field for wounded or dead from amongst your comrades. Once we have finished, we shall retreat back to our camp and rest. Tomorrow, some of you will accompany me to bring word of this victory to Lord Isildur, while the others return home to bring comfort to those you left behind."
The men cheered, though their voices were unsteady now that the rush of battle was fading. Galadriel moved forward to assist with the search for wounded, but Halbrand put a hand on her arm.
"You fought well."
Galadriel stared at him before chuckling ruefully. "I was a knife in the dark, unerring and impossible to defend against. There is no glory in such a victory."
"Perhaps no glory, but much comfort. I believe we lost few if any of our soldiers and most of the wounds are trifling. The panic you sowed amongst the enemy cannot be overstated." Galadriel shook her head slowly, opening her mouth to argue, but immediately snapped it shut as the motion made her head spin and nausea curl through her gut. She must have swayed slightly as Halbrand gripped her arm, staring at her closely.
"I have never spent so long under the ring's power." She finally explained. His eyes widened at once in understanding. "There is a toll such magic takes on the flesh, even for an elf."
He nodded but did not at once release his hold. "You should rest. Theo is among my soldiers and has been training with his mother. He will tend to the wounded. If there is need of your assistance, we will rouse you."
Galadriel felt a smile dance across her face, but the exhaustion was settling heavily on her shoulders now. She forced herself away from the battle and back up the rise to where their camp stood among the trees. She found the small tent she'd set up hours before and stumbled inside where she was asleep as soon as she reached her bedroll.
xXxXx
Golden light shone around her. It was much softer than the harsh light of the sun and seemed to come from somewhere before her, but also from all around her. Galadriel almost wept from the nigh forgotten feeling of that light dancing across her skin. Grass, cool and soft, tickled her bare feet as she ran through the light, feeling freer than she had in many centuries.
"Galadriel."
The voice was familiar, but Galadriel couldn't immediately place it. She spun as she ran, looking around her for the owner of the voice.
"Galadriel."
There, beneath a large mallorn off to her right, stood a figure she had long given up hope of seeing. Long silver hair fluttered like a silk banner in the slight breeze. His smile was so wide, so warm, as he watched her.
"Celeborn?" His name was a whispered question upon her lips as she darted toward him. He smiled and held his arms out to her, as he used to so long ago. Her hands trembled violently as she reached for her lost husband, but as she closed her fingers around his outstretched hand, it melted into shadow.
Terror swallowed joy.
His eyes were wide with horror and then narrowed into a judgmental glare as the shadows raced across his form. Galadriel could only watch frozen as her first love dissolved into darkness before her. He opened his mouth to speak, but the voice was no longer his own and the gentleness of the tone was at odds with his expression.
"Galadriel."
She jolted into sudden consciousness. Halbrand was kneeling upon the foot of her bedroll looking concerned. "Galadriel? You are very pale. Are you sure you weren't injured in the fight?"
Galadriel trembled. With the light of Valinor lost again to the ages, the late-winter air of Middle Earth was unbearably cold. She forced a ragged smile to her face. "Ah, yes. I must have had a nightmare, but I cannot recall it. Is there something you require from me?"
Halbrand shook his head slowly, but his eyes were darting across her face. "No, but it is morning, and we will be packing up camp shortly. I wasn't sure if you wished to come with me to see Isildur or return to the capital with Ontamo."
Oh yes, there was a battle yesterday. It seemed so long ago in the wake of her resurging grief. A glimpse of Braith and her companions flitted through her mind. "I will accompany you. Please allow me a moment to collect myself and dress for the journey."
"Are you sure you're well?"
Galadriel met his searching gaze, and her smile softened. "You need not worry for me. The strain of battle was greater than I had realized, but I require only rest."
Halbrand relaxed slightly and nodded. "I am glad. I'll send Ontamo and his men on their way. We will leave when you're ready." He rose and quitted the tent, leaving Galadriel alone.
The shadow of tears burned in her eyes, but Galadriel forced herself to breathe slowly. Memories of the dream were already fading in the light of morning, but the agony of losing her husband again, nearly three thousand years after he first went missing, weighed upon her heavily. Once her eyes were clear, she pulled herself out of bed and began to ready for the day.
By the time she stepped outside the tent, more than half of the army had left with Ontamo and the rest were packed and conversing amongst themselves. In but a few minutes, Galadriel stood ready as well and went to find Halbrand.
He greeted her tenderly, looking over her once more with a critical eye. "Are you recovered, my lady?"
The smile was more natural now that the pain had dulled somewhat. "I am. Thank you for your care. We should begin. If we can reach the edge of the cleft before dark, we may travel the rest of the way by night and find rest in beds by morn."
Halbrand rested a hand on her arm, checking her eyes as if for any further misdirection. Evidently content with what he found, he nodded once and ordered the men to ready for the journey.
The journey east was easy. The frequent trips had worn the beginnings of a trail through the forest. Galadriel knew they would need to begin construction on a true road eventually, but for now the well-worn footpath was sufficient for their needs. They did not stop to eat, instead taking their waybread as they traveled. Finally, as the sun sank behind them, their shadows stretched out before them as they broke through the trees.
Darkness closed in around them as they completed the final stretch of their journey. After so many hours of consecutive travel, the lights of the fort before them were a welcome relief.
Scouts must have observed their approach, for Isildur and Alwena were standing at the gates to welcome them as they arrived. They bowed deeply. "King Halbrand! We expected you earlier, though Lady Galadriel's companions arrived early yesterday with a warning that you might have encountered the orcs on your way to us. What news do you have?"
Halbrand addressed Isildur when he spoke, but he pitched his voice to ensure it would carry to all those near enough to listen to their conversation. "The orcish army has been defeated. No survivors escaped back into the Black Lands beyond the mountains. Adar did not lead them himself, so some must still remain in the darkness beyond, but we have shattered their strength. For perhaps a generation of men, we have naught to fear from our neighbors to the east."
A resounding cheer echoed in that cleft in the mountains. Galadriel smiled as she watched the men relax at last after the battle. Throughout their journey, a tension had remained in their bearing, but at last they felt at ease. Halbrand dismissed the men to find food and rest in the barracks, but he and Galadriel fell in beside Isildur who led them to a new smaller building at the center of the camp.
"The men decided a central location for planning would be advisable, similar to the palace you inhabit at home. Cerys and I just moved into our rooms at the back a few weeks ago. It is odd not sleeping in the barracks with the men, but it is convenient." Isildur gestured to a large chair in the middle of the main open room. "My lord, the chief place is yours as long as you are under my roof."
Halbrand thanked him, and they all took seats around a central table.
"Lord Isildur," Galadriel began after Halbrand had completed his recount of the battle. "I was able to find a few refugees from the destruction of the Woodsmen. Have they arrived?"
Isildur nodded, smiling slightly. "Indeed. They arrived this morning. I will take you to see them tomorrow. They are resting in the medical tent now. Cerys had just brought me a report that they were healing well when our scouts spotted your own party."
Galadriel felt relief course through her. She thanked Isildur, and the conversation turned to other matters. With the immediate threat of the orcs removed, they could consider building a true city in place of the fort and cleansing the shadow from the mountain pass.
Finally, Halbrand raised a hand to halt the conversation. "We have much to discuss, but the hour is late, and we are in no hurry to leave now that the battle is won. Let us all retire, and we can continue our discussion in the light of day."
Those gathered all quickly agreed and made their way to their assigned berths. With the immediate threat of war averted, they would have sufficient time to plan for peace after resting.
xXxXx
The following days saw all who had fought regaining their strength. The remaining wounded were treated by Cerys while those who were uninjured assisted the locally stationed troops with preparations for spring planting.
Galadriel had found Braith and her family the morning after her arrival, pleased that they had not suffered any further injury in the final leg of their journey. When the king's guard returned to the capital, they would be accompanying the group. After a tense discussion, Braith and Ysberin had decided to leave the forests for good.
Despite the optimism pervading her company, Galadriel could not shake the feeling of unease that had settled over her since her dream of Valinor. It felt as if the fabric of the world was taunt and snagged, rubbing over her skin in a constant itch that could not be scratched.
On the third morning, Galadriel and Halbrand left the stronghold early to scout the woods, wishing to ensure that no orcs remained hidden. Only then would the army depart, returning at last to the city.
Galadriel shivered as they traversed the meadows. The warmth of spring had finally broken through the last vestiges of winter, but the morning air was still chill, and a tension pervaded her senses.
They had only just reached the edge of the trees when Galadriel felt a violent crack, resonating through her body from the base of skull. A great shiver wracked her spine and ice seemed to flood her veins. She fell to her knees. The light around her warped and dimmed and a sense of utter loss overcame her. She could vaguely hear Halbrand calling out to her, as if from a great distance, but the sound was drowned out by a mighty roar of water, like a great wave crashing over her, pulling her down into the depths.
Then she knew nothing but darkness.