Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Arcane Land	By : alpham31 Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2529 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is not mine, and neither are its characters. I make no money with my writing. This story was written for the simple pleasure of it.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
CHAPTER 16: The Shepherd

Those of The Company were the first to fire their arrows on their captain’s signal, finding their mark in the Uruks that had tormented their brothers with a resounding thwack and thud, the element of surprise allowing them to take down those vital few that could well make all the difference. They loaded in the flash of an eye and fired again, with all the power their strong arms could muster, before the worshipping eyes of the younger warriors who sat poised in the trees, observing their stance, their powerful draw, their perfect precision as their muscles rippled beneath their many and varied armbands. It was only now that the orcs realized what was happening, so sudden and silent had it been.

Barabor and his elves charged from the West, as Gondien and his detachment rushed in from the East, whirling their shining steel in the early evening darkness, dancing to the many and varied battle cries that were launched to the heavens. They were angry, livid, as they lifted their arms and brought them crashing down upon the pulsing mass of orcs. The battle was set and the odds were evened if only by the sheer wrath that exuded from the elven warriors as they flung themselves at the enemy, remembering the screams and wails they had been forced to endure before Gondien had arrived, and now - now it was time for punishment.

Pengon, Koron en’ and Ram en’ made their way to the captives as inconspicuously as they could, beating down the few orcs that stood in their way, for the tree was off to one side of the clearing. After cutting their bonds, they armed their battered brothers, before making their way over to Hwindo, as Rafno made a dash for Beria, for if he was not dead, he was very nearly so – disembowelment usually killed the victim by heart failure, the sheer shock of seeing your own innards outside the body proved too cruel for most hearts to bear, yet some were capable of surviving for many minutes before death finally took them, for death was the only outcome. The barbaric act had been inflicted to strike terror into their hearts, and to slake the lust for violence and suffering that Beria had unwittingly awoken in the strange one. Checking his pulse, he was actually relieved then he did not find one, yet forced to look away quickly lest his stomach rebel, for his companion had been mutilated most brutally, and yet his face, his face was exactly what you would not expect to see on one so cruelly murdered, for his lips were turned upwards, no crease marred his brow – he seemed asleep, serene, at peace, as if he slept in the arms of an angel, thought Rafno.

The other recruit appeared then, stopping short and flinging himself to his knees in a cloud of dirt - crying out his despair when he realized the wherefore of that last chilling scream, before the battle had broken out. He looked desperately at Rafno, who returned his gaze steadily as his eyes filled with tears, watching the truth dawn on the face of Beria’s friend and comrade. Shocked to the core, the young warrior turned, his face a mask of unashamed rage as he stood and drew his sword with a mighty scream. They had killed his childhood friend – in the worst way he could imagine – the pain and suffering his poor brother had endured would fuel his wrath now, for he had not deserved such a cruel ending - vengeance and hatred propelled him forward into battle, after which he, would never be the same again.

Idhreno and Rafno were now armed, and Hwindo was out of it, although conscious enough to know what was going on, for no sooner had he guided Beria to peace, he had fallen back to the floor, as if that final act had squeezed the last of his strength from his abused body. He needed to get out of the fray, for as long as he was here, the others would risk their lives, either that or he would be used as leverage - reduced to nothing but a distraction that could cause his warriors their lives. Ram en’ placed a hand over the commander’s mouth as he pushed him upright, feeling the vibrations of the scream that was muffled by his own hand – they did not want to draw attention to themselves, yet Rafno was already kneeling down beside them, taking one look at the collarbone and grimacing, for rarely had he seen a break so cruel, yet when he met his friend’s eyes, he was forced to jump back, before controlling himself, for the green eyes were shining in the dark, illuminated from within with a light so wondrous it momentarily struck him dumb, drew him in as all else faded into nothing – until Legolas closed his eyes, and the spell was instantly broken.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the last remnants of utter bliss he had just felt, he snapped back to reality, calling to his companion.

“Ram en’, I will take him inside the tree line to the East, ‘tis nearer, give me your boot knife.”

With no time to ask why he would need that, he simply nodded, trusting him implicitly as he slapped the knife into the healer’s hands and helped him get Hwindo on his feet. He smiled beautifully at Rafno then, before whirling on his heels and running into the battle that still raged, in the company of a battered Idhreno, and in search of the young recruit, lest his anger be the end of him.

Taking the bulk of Hwindo’s considerable weight on himself, the two warriors made their unsteady way into the trees, yet once they arrived at the first trunks, Legolas refused to be helped any further.

“Rafno, leave me here, give me the knife and help them, my friend.”

Rafno knew he was right, and he also knew that his friend’s injuries were not life-threatening, even if they were most painful. Yet it felt unnatural to him to leave a patient in pain.

“Go, help our brothers, Rafno.”

And that was all it took for Rafno to thrust himself into the whirling mass of entangled bodies, Beria’s tender face in his mind’s eye as he raised his sword and screamed his own Noldorin charge.

………………………………………………………………………………..

Slash, lunge, turn, slice, stab – again, and again. Glammo was afire, all his training coming to the fore. He saw Lindo as he adjusted a hand, a foot, and then Glorfindel’s face, shouting his instructions, Legolas as he corrected his footing - all that he had learned with his lover and those two, legendary warriors, and yet had never really used, until now. He was burning with the flame of ire, and yet with the precision of a master – this was ‘equilibrium’ as Legolas had described, this was the deadly control that so marked his friend’s fighting, a style he now recognized in himself, as he dealt death to any and all that approached him. He fought like a demon, his dark hair whirling around him as his strong arms drove the metal of his sword into the black bodies of his opponents, again and again. His body moved as it had never done before in battle, as water flows over rock, fluid and powerful. It was an odd, alien feeling, so different from all those centuries of fighting in the same style. His previous mindset had been broken in every possible way, and now, he took them down, one after the other, only the Uruks giving him a semblance of a fight.

The tide was turning and the battle was finally winding down; the orcs had been slain, save for the last few, who battled hopelessly with the empowered elves. And there, in the middle of it all, was Rafno. He had never killed so many, so quickly and so efficiently, and this last orc would be no exception, yet just as he cut it down, he was distracted by a desperate cry…

“Rafnooo!!!!” He whirled on his heel, only to come face to face with the blonde Uruk, his nose but inches away from the wet snout. He was too close, he knew, he would feel the cold slice of metal through his flesh any second now, and so he stood, shocked that his life could end so suddenly. Yet the smirk on the beast’s face suddenly vanished, as the point of a knife appeared at the base of its neck, between its two collar bones, and then Rafno felt the spray of blood on his face, hot and sticky. The vile abomination disappeared then, as it sunk to the ground, a long, thin knife traversing its neck, its life force spraying out onto the moist ground as it twitched, and then stilled, its face a mask of utter shock.

Looking ahead, he saw his savior, a strong blonde warrior whose arm was still poised after having thrown the knife with a precision Rafno had never seen. The blonde gazed upon him with a mischievous, feral gleam in his eyes, eyes that spoke of joy, and yet grief, and pain, for his body was ablaze in throbbing bruises, cuts, fractured bones, and a snapped collar bone.

Rafno smiled then, how Legolas had managed that was beyond him – yet he had, with the grace of Ram en’s boot knife; the battle was won, and they had been rescued, against the odds, and the object of their torture – his savior, still stood when they had fallen. Moments later, a triumphant roar resounded around the glade and beyond, as victory was called, and the aftermath began…

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

He remembered his inner thoughts from just the day before. ‘Darkness is the purposeful and visible infliction of pain upon the innocent’, and Rafno could see it now, on the face of their victim, for Hwindo barely stood, his face a grimace of pain and suffering, yet the look in his eye told Rafno he was not going to let himself fall, for to do so would be to draw attention to himself, and he knew that Legolas would avoid that at all cost.

Rafno lunged forward then, supporting him just in time before his legs gave way, the extra support of his friend’s arms preventing him from sinking to the floor, and so he smiled and nodded.

“Ah, just in time - healer, now if you can get - my sorry self away from here - I will follow - your every command, - my friend,” he said, as he struggled to draw in the air he needed.

“You had better, for now, you are the patient, I, am the healer, and Dima is in charge.”

Duly warned, Hwindo allowed himself to be guided by Rafno to a copse of shady trees. Elladan was not about to lead him straight into the healing tent that was already being erected, for he knew that Legolas would simply not relax, and for what he needed to do now, that would not be good. On their way there, Ram en’ approached with the intention of helping, yet stopped to first inspect his commander, before turning his eyes back to Rafno.

“You are a fearsome sight, my friend,” he smirked at Rafno, for his face was covered in the now drying blood of his would-be assassin.

Ignoring the comment completely, Rafno told him what he needed. “Ram en’, I need water and my pack of healing supplies – did you retrieve our mounts?”

“Indeed we did, thanks to Hwindo. I will fetch it for you,” he said, sparing one last calculated glance at his commander, before trotting away.

“You are a good leader, Rafno. The warriors - heed you - as if it were - the natural thing to do,” said Legolas, his voice somewhat strained, for he was making a noteworthy effort to stay on his own two feet.

“My circumstances have changed. Here, I do not have the onus of being the son of the ruler, here, I can be myself, free from the stress that comes with expectation.”

“And when you - return - will you change?”

“Nay, for my confidence has come to the fore, there is no turning back, my friend.”

“Good,” he trailed off, the strain of walking and talking suddenly becoming too much.

Just then, Idhreno found them, running forward to help Rafno as he lowered his friend softly to sit beneath the tree he had noticed previously, an involuntary moan escaping Hwindo at the stabbing pain in his chest as he sat. The area was partially shaded from the camp, yet close enough to be safe, it would give them a modicum of privacy at least.

Idhreno sat on the other side of the commander and silence reined for a moment. The three were united once more, yet Beria was not there, and now, in the wake of battle, as the adrenalin finally left them, it all came back, and Rafno took a shuddering breath as he looked to the floor.

“Rafno,” called Idhreno softly. “Was it your first time?” he asked.

“As a captive? Yes. Yet it brought to my mind the ordeal of my mother, for we found her in similar circumstances – “

“Are you alright, my friend?” prompted Idhreno, watching his companion closely.

It took Elladan a moment to answer, and when he did so, it was the truth. “Idhreno, I am alright, yet I am greatly saddened, somewhat overwhelmed, and – and confused, I will admit.”

“Had you answered any differently, I would be concerned,” he smiled then. Rafno wondered at the strength this elf possessed – for they been through much, had witnessed an act of a foulness that would turn the stomachs of most, and affect the mind with nightmare and strange imaginings – yet this, lieutenant of The Company, was enquiring after his welfare.

“Hwindo, what – what happened?” asked the Wise Warrior then, turning his worried attention on his commander.

“You, it seemed, I mean, I think I saw – in your eyes, in your voice, you did – something I cannot comprehend…”

Rafno watched Idhreno closely, for he was attempting to put into words what he, too, had witnessed, and was mentally flailing just as badly as his companion was, for Rafno had not only seen it, but had felt it when he had first approached Hwindo, his eyes still aflame – he remembered the overwhelming sensation of utter peace and bliss, he remembered the eyes that drew him inexorably to look, and the voice that prevailed over all else that surrounded him – it was what Beria must have felt in those final moments that would have been a living hell, had it not been for Legolas.

“Hwindo,” began Rafno, the light of truth suddenly dawning on him even as he spoke, “there was magic in your eyes and in your voice – I felt it myself before it waned. You – you shepherded him – didn’t you? You took his attention away from the real world and helped him upon the way – you…” Rafno could not continue, for his voice broke and his eyes had filled with tears, his throat constricting painfully.

“Peace, Rafno,” whispered the Forest Lord then, for he could not express himself right now in any other way that was not a moan of pain. “We will talk – later…”

Ram en’, meanwhile, was returning with Rafno’s pack. He passed Gondien on the way and placed a brotherly hand on the captain’s chest, to which the captain nodded and smiled. However, a waft of cooked meat and grease suddenly hit Ram en’ squarely in the nose, making it wrinkle and move a little to the side. Gondien’s face, however, now showed no emotion at all; nodding once more at the lieutenant, he walked away to his duties, his right hand rummaging inside his leather jerkin for the treasure still within.

Ram en’ called the rest of the company to him, save for Dima, who was busy organizing the clean up. He had picked up a few other things that would be needed, and soon the entire detachment was approaching the tree under which their brothers sat. Yet they stopped short at the scene that was playing out before them. Rafno and Idhreno wept openly as they clasped their hands together with one of Hwindo’s, the three warriors joined in shared grief, yet also in awe, for two had been witness to an event that would remain with them always, as the others would soon find out.

Kneeling before them, Ram en’ set the water and pack on the floor, yet he remained silent, just as his brothers behind him did, letting the three ex-captives, express their emotions for the first time in two days. Ram en’ knew what it was to spend so much time ignoring pain and suffering, keeping up the mask of indifference that in no way reflected the inner turmoil they had suffered.

It was Idhreno who sighed first and lowered his hand, turning to the newcomers and smiling sadly.

“Brothers, I am so very glad to see you,” he said, a watery smile gracing his bruised face, words that immediately had them all shuffling towards Rafno and Idhreno, embracing them fiercely, yet not daring to touch their commander. “And we are so very glad to see you whole, and almost hail,” replied Ram en’, “although Hwindo here I am not sure about.”

Rafno snapped out of his own remembered misery as he turned to his friend, horrified that he had left him there to suffer so long.

Hwindo leant against the trunk, his eyes now closed in an obvious attempt to calm the pain, and for the first time in his life, he found himself actually wishing that someone would set his shoulder, for he was beginning to lose feeling in it, the sensation unnerving him.

Launching himself into his healer’s pack, he pulled out cloths and two bottles.

“Ram en’, I need a fire, and – two cups, oh, and a bowl, if you can find one - and food, brother, food…”

With a smile, Nanern and Pengon left in search of what was needed, while Ram en’ rose to find wood for the hearth. Rafno turned once more to his friend.

“Hwindo, this, break is serious. I cannot fix it here, for the bones need to be pulled back into place – I do not have the tools or the herbs for such a thing, and so for now, I will clean and immobilize it as best I can, and relocate your shoulder.”

“Alright,” he replied warily, yet he had the impression there was more to come, and he was right.

“Also,” he hesitated a moment before continuing, “it is a two day ride back to the fortress; in two days, the risk of infection is great. The snap seems to be clean, but the bone is exposed, and I would be surprised if you did not fall with a fever before we arrive.”

“Alright,” he said again, wondering where Elladan was going with his clinical explanations.

Elladan chuckled before continuing. “All I am saying, my friend, is that you need to be careful on the way back. No sudden movements lest you puncture a lung, and if you feel fevered you must tell me, for if you fall from your horse, you could kill yourself.”

“Alright,” he said for the third time, by now totally disinterested in what his friend was saying. He could not think straight let alone listen to anyone right now. Rafno understood immediately and so he did not insist. The others, however, had listened as they watched Ram en’ build their fire. They spared a glance of complicity between themselves, vowing to ensure that their commander did not try to do more than his health permitted, as was his penchance.

“Your fire,” said Ram en’.

The healer nodded, knowing that no force of nature would move this Wall of Stone, or indeed any of them now from where they sat, straight-backed and defiant.

“Boil some water for me, Ram en’,” he instructed, as he continued to work. They had been ‘lucky’ enough that Legolas had not been clothed when his injuries were provoked, saving him the painful procedure of removing them. Any cuts and bruises on his legs could wait until they returned.

“Come, Hwindo, lie down for me.”

Rafno helped his friend into a horizontal position upon the abundant blankets that had been laid out for him. The movements were painfully slow, his muscles taut, stiffened by the constant pain and apprehension of what he knew was coming. Finally flat on his back, he let out a mighty heave of air.

Pouring the now boiling water into two cups, Ram en’ approached and set them down beside the healer, who threw in the herbs he would need and placed them to one side to steep.

“Will you help me, Ram en’” he asked quietly as he began to maneuver his friend onto his side.

A brief nod was all the answer he got, as Ram en’ knelt down before his commander, placing a hand over his neck and another on his flank, while Rafno gripped his arm in an all too familiar position. Nodding briskly at Ram en’, who pressed down firmly, he pulled out and around until the socket slipped back into its proper place, garnering a pained shout from Hwindo below, his entire body stiffening even further, before relaxing completely, pain and exhaustion beginning to win the battle for supremacy. However many times Hwindo had been through this, he had never managed to stifle the yell of pain that accompanied the relocation of a shoulder, and today was no exception.

The Company kept their faces impassive, except for Glammo, whose lips curved downwards involuntarily in sympathy.

Dipping a cloth into the water, Elladan began his healing, as he washed the cuts and bruises with the warm, antiseptic water at his side, talking quietly to his silent friend as the rest of them began to prepare food and condition their camp as comfortably as possible. Soon, the soothing smells of hot stew were infusing the area, just as the other troops set about their own meals.

Rafno paused for a moment, as a wave of dizziness and tiredness hit him, and Pengon saw it.

“Come, sit here a while and eat,” he encouraged, smiling kindly to the red-faced healer. “You do look like a demon of Morgoth, Rafno, here, clean yourself,” he said, holding out a fresh cloth.

Taking it, he began to wipe his face, letting the fresh water revive him.

It was Koron en’ who moved over to Hwindo, taking the cloth from the bucket and resuming Rafno’s work. “I will take over for a while, brother – take your rest,” he said quietly. “Should he eat?” he added as an afterthought.

“Not yet, Koron en’, I still have a few things to see to.” What he meant was that he needed to set the ribs and immobilize his shoulder, two painful processes that were not advisable on a full stomach.

Accepting the bowl of steaming food, Rafno dug the wooden spoon into it violently, sending drops of hot sauce into the air, before devouring the contents, uncaring of the sauce that covered his lips – he was ravenous after two days of fasting, grabbing the hunk of bread that a smirking Nanern held out to him, he stuffed it into his now bulging mouth.

Idhreno looked on, a small smile gracing his bruised face, for he had done much the same just moments before.

The dull scraping sounds of wood against wood told them all that Rafno had finally reached the bottom of the bowl. Setting it down on the floor, he righted himself and let out the mightiest burp that Glammo had ever heard, so loud it echoed around the glade and sent The Company into fits of laughter, garnering a few snickers from those troops closest to them.

Rafno smiled ruefully, it had not been purposeful, rather it had escaped him with a force he had been unable to hold back, and glad of it he was, too, for now, he felt much better. The laughter had also served to break the strange spell that had descended over them, and now, they all sat back and began to truly relax.

The healer returned to Hwindo’s side, who turned and smiled up at him before speaking softly.

“That was a mighty roar in the dark, my friend. In future circumstances, I will surely mortify you for it…” he smiled weakly, as Rafno watched him carefully while he worked.

“You would not, and if you did, I would have sweet revenge, Hwindo, make no mistake,” he said, glad the mood had lightened so much.

Covering the horrific break with a wet cloth, he pushed Legolas into a sitting position slowly, feeling his chest creak oddly as he did so. The heavy head fell back onto his shoulder as he let out a shuddering breath. “Just a little longer, my friend,” said Rafno, “just a while longer.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Earlier, they had taken turns to help clear the camp, burn the bodies, and, for their part, slice off the head of the blonde Uruk, spitting it upon a pike and displaying it towards the south, for all to see. Melven, of course, had turned away for that particular procedure, for although he heartily agreed with the sentiment, the sickly sound of wood entering dead flesh and tissue simply turned his stomach.

Glammo accepted the tea that Lindo passed him gratefully, the mint would calm his stomach and the warmth would sooth his frayed nerves, yet it also set his mind to wandering. The past two days had been fraught with tension, flight and fighting - everything had happened so quickly, with not a moment to sit quietly and reflect on the events that had brought them here, now, before this fire. Since emerging from what The Company called Mirkwood, those southern regions were the trees were rotting, slowly falling under the shadow the Tower, they had had but two days of travelling before Legolas had sensed the destruction of Brethil. Nanern’s mad dash through the forest in search of Barabor, and then getting trapped between the orc encampment and a group approaching from behind, his companions’ capture and torment – the loss of Beria… what a first ride it had been, one he knew he would never forget, and yet one he knew marked the beginning of a new era for him – for he began to think that perhaps this was where is heart lay now, in this forest of stark contrasts – light and dark, verdant life and black death, utter bliss and despair… life was intense here, lived to the full, enjoyed and suffered to its limits and he was suddenly addicted to it, drawn from the years of mundane life with his mate, like a moth to the flame of life.

Turning, he found Lindo staring at him, a subtle smile on his lovely face.

“Are you well, Glammo?” asked the Bard Warrior, his eyes searching those of his lover for any sign of distress. He had found it after that first foray into the Mirkwood, yet now, Lindo was not so sure.

“I am well, Lindo, I simply ponder these last few days of madness, ‘tis the first time I have been able to sit, at peace for a moment to put my thoughts in order.”

“And are they? In order?”

“Not quite,” he said, smiling beautifully at his lover, for he longed to tell him what his heart was screaming, but he could not, not here. It would have to wait, but Lindo’s face brightened of a sudden, and it seemed to Glammo that he knew.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Half an hour later and Rafno had bound Hwindo’s chest and placed the damaged arm in a high, tight-fitting sling, leaving his patient in the strong arms of Koron en’, while Nanern pulled a comb through the tangled and matted hair. Lindo struck up a soft song that carried throughout the glade, soothing nerves and relaxing minds, and a soft smile began to appear upon the faces of veterans and recruits alike. They, of course, did not know, but Lindo’s voice was especially sweet this night, especially heart-felt as he sung of love, of his love, one he was now convinced was reciprocated.

They had all eaten, their commander had been tended to, and now, they sat before the fire in a close circle.

“You have done well, Rafno,” began Dima. “You endured the captivity, you fought bravely and you are a great healer. We, your brothers, wish to tell you that we are proud to ride with you – we know you cannot stay beyond the exchange program, but to us, you will always be a part of The Company.” As he finished the words, he held Rafno’s surprised gaze, smiling just a little, his eyes glinting meaningfully.

Rafno smiled back then, looking at each of them and observing an identical expression on their faces.

“And I will always wear this,” he said, placing his hand over his armband, “that I may never forget my Greenwood brothers,” he finished, holding their gazes, showing them his utter sincerity, for he meant every word he had said.

“You know,” said Nanern, breaking the solemn moment, “this recruit here, has also comported himself most bravely. During our life or death odyssey through the woods, he showed his physical endurance, his brave heart, and when we arrived in Barabor’s realm and we dismounted, I told him that we would get our brothers back. I saw then the face of a wild one, ferocious and dangerous, as a mountain puma, readied for the pounce - for he smiled and said to me that he would help me. I was struck then at the power of his mien, for it seemed to me that he would strike terror in the hearts of our foes. Brothers - this, is Rhrawthir, Fierce Face.”

Rhrawthir’s eyes were round as he waited for Nanern to finish his tale, he had been baptized, finally, the last member to be named. He liked it, he thought then, for it sounded good, just like his brothers’ warrior names, so long as you did not know the story behind them…

Yet Beria’s loss weighed heavily upon his heart, and the smile promptly faded into an expression of grief as he lowered his eyes to the floor.

“Speak, Rhrawthir,” prompted Dima. “Tell us your thoughts.”

“I, I cannot, Captain, for the sadness in my heart has my mind in a turmoil, I know not what to say,” he said, lifting his pleading eyes to Dima.

“You grieve for Beria, your friend, you grieve for his suffering, in those final moments…”

“I, …” he faltered as tears sprang from his desperate eyes with a force he could never have stopped.

“You grieve because although you knew he could die, you never imagined it would be in that manner, did you?” he insisted.

“They cut him open before his very eyes! His guts spilling to the ground as he watched! Alive, by the love of Elbereth,” he began, spewing out his ire and his grief, “where is the mercy of the Valar, Captain? Where?” he screamed those final words, his eyes wide, begging him to answer.

Quietness descended over the glade then, for they had heard Rhrawthir’s raw pain as he spat out the words his captain had wrenched from him.

It was Idhreno who broke the silence in a voice so soft only The Company and those closest to them could here.

“Rhrawthir – I, we, have a tale to tell you, brother, if you will listen?” he asked, seeking the warrior’s tear-filled eyes with his own.

At a jerky nod, Idhreno accepted a cup of steaming tea from Lindo.

“Rhrawthir, what I and Rafno witnessed in those final moments of torment will stay with me, with us, always, but not for the reasons you think – for you see,” he paused as his own flesh tingled at the memory of it, “you see, they were filled with light, with the light of a Vala, my friend,” he smiled widely now, “do you wish to hear the tale?” he asked again, the smile not leaving his lips.

The circle of warriors were now watching Idhreno closely, eager for the telling, for something had happened out there that they were not aware of, that only those captive had experienced, they had sensed as much when they had found the three under the tree earlier that evening.

Hwindo simply turned his eyes to the floor, unsure if he wanted to hear it himself, yet so tired he could not bring himself to protest. Besides, he understood why Idhreno did it, for Rhrawthir was traumatized by the nature of his friend’s death, he needed to hear it, and so he relaxed back into Koren en’s arms as the tale began to unfold, abstracting himself from the telling and enjoying a brief moment of comfort, for Rafno’s potion was working miracles and he soon found himself in a state of semi-vigil, eyes half-lidded and mouth slack, his wild hair partially covering his battered face.

“You see, Rhrawthir. Beria was of true heart, so much so that he could not stand the suffering that was being inflicted on Hwindo, you see, the beast was clever, inflicting not only physical pain, but mental anguish too, for it promised many things, none of them good… Beria was of true heart and his tears sprang forth, his suffering so great it brought about his own torment. Yet as the blade entered his flesh and he screamed….” He wavered here a moment, before he controlled himself once more. “We all realized what it would do then, and that is when it started, for I looked to Rafno, who was looking at Hwindo, drawing my attention to him also…”

“What was it? What did you see?” asked Lindo slowly, taking a sip of hot tea.

“Rafno?” prompted Idhreno, drawing his fellow captive into the tale that now had them all captivated, the warriors from the hearths nearby leaning towards them, not wishing to be rude, but unable to forego the story that was unraveling.

Breathing deeply, he took up the tale, pausing a moment to collect his thoughts, for how to put into words those moments? He would never be able to express it in such a way as to garner the same emotions in his brothers as it had with him, yet he would try, for Rhrawthir, he would try.

“Hwindo should not have been able to move, let alone sit up, yet there he was, staring at Beria who was watching the Uruk at his feet. His eyes shone from within, Rhrawthir, a soft mist forming before them, as he opened his mouth to speak, and when he did, the voice was strong, powerful, commanding. ‘Beria, look at me, warrior,’ he said over and over – and he did! In spite of it all, what should have been terrible pain and suffering turned to stupor, and Beria stared only at our Lord, his face showing no sign of pain, my friend…”

Idhreno took up the tale once more, looking off to the side, remembering as he spoke.

“He told him it would soon be over, to look to the stars, for they shone for him, Rhrawthir,” he said emphatically as he smiled through the tears that once more began to flow from his eyes. “And in those final moments, when the beasts befouled our brother’s body, he told him to go to them, and to peace, at last…”

“I saw his face, Rhrawthir,” continued Rafno. “I saw his serene face as he tilted his head backwards and smiled, before his eyes closed and he slipped away…”

There was absolute silence now, the crackling of the fires and the sniffling of those that cried, yet could not rip their eyes away from Idhreno and Rafno…

“Rhrawthir,” said Idhreno finally, “remember the beginning of our tale, and remember well, you see, the last moments of True Heart Beria, were filled with light, with the light of a Vala, my friend,” he finished, staring at the young warrior, who stared back through his tears.

“Who?” he whispered reverently.

Idhreno smiled as he looked to Rafno for confirmation. “By Yavanna’s grace, our Lord guided Beria into the light.”

The harsh intakes of breath brought Hwindo back to the present from where he had been lingering, turning his aching head to the circle of warriors that now watched him in awe and Koron en’ tightened his hold on him just a little.

“I pleaded to my Lady for mercy, brothers, and in her infinite love, she granted it. Praise her, if you will, and know that our brother did not suffer, he died in the blissful arms of Kelementari.”

Hwindo watched them all through half-lidded eyes. They sat as statues, lost to their own thoughts, beautiful and feral in the orange glow and the dancing shadows of their camp. They were sad, yet strangely uplifted, overjoyed to hear the tale that would soon become a lay in the Greenwood in years to come. His own thoughts shifted to Imladris then, for such days of peace had he lived there, a peace he so longed for, fought desperately for, every day of his existence, yet he found himself weak now, and in that, rare moment, he closed his eyes as a wave of yearning infused him; he wanted to feel his strong arms wrapped around him, feel his solid chest against his cheek, feel the steady hand smooth over his hair, he wanted – he wanted to feel once more. Legolas cleared his mind then, lest it betray him, allowing a wave of exhaustion to hit him - Rafno’s concoction was starting to take effect, and so he closed his tired eyes, breathed out softly, and fell into reverie in the protective arms of Koron en’. Next to him sat Nanern, who had already committed the details to memory. When next he told the tale, it would be his very own masterpiece.

And so they sat through the night. The odd warrior that passed their strange circle would later comment that it had seemed to them as though they meditated, sitting under the loving shelter of the trees, their king below them – their eyes sad – yet hopeful too, and just a little wiser.
- 15
- 16
- 17
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Arcane Land