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
- 28
- 29
Chapter 29: Alas, Sweet Bard

Koron en’ stared dumbly at the healer for a moment, before the words took hold of his conscious mind and a tear came to his eye as he struggled to ask the question.

“How long?” he whispered, not trusting his voice.

“Hours; he may simply slip away, or – his breathing may worsen before it finally stops. In this case, you must soothe Melven there, he must be told that his friend is no longer conscious, that he is not suffering, do you understand me, warrior?” asked the healer kindly.

“I do,” said Koron, his voice slightly higher than it normally was.

Nodding and squeezing the strong shoulder once more, the two healers floated away, their heads bowed in heavy sorrow.

Koron turned to head back to the room, but he hesitated. What to say? How to say it? How do you tell someone that your lover will die? Well, it had been entrusted to him, and there was nothing for it, and Koron en’ was nothing if not courageous…

As he stood in the doorway, it was Pengon who first saw his brother’s face, and he knew. His stomach fell to his feet and his eyes filled with tears as he knelt down beside Glammo, who still sat stroking the cold hand, staring at the face he had loved so well.

Koron approached him then, kneeling on the other side of the bed. “Glammo, I have just spoken to Antien.”

“Um…” he said, lost in his silent vigil.

“Yes. He has told me that there are no more medicines to try.”

“Then we continue to wait,” he murmured.

“No, Glammo. The wait is nearly over, and soon, our brother must move on…”

“I don’t understand,” he whispered as he continued to watch the inert face that suddenly became blurred.

“Glammo, today, our brother will leave this world, bound for the other, where our fallen comrades dwell…”

Pengon could not control his own tears and although he made no sound, they streamed from his eyes as grief invaded every nerve in his body, for it broke his heart to lose Lindo, but twice was his grief to see Glammo struggle to comprehend it, for his brain had processed the information, and yet his heart was trying to blindfold him, deny what it already knew, defend its body from the unbearable pain of heartbreak.

“Glammo,” continued Koron en’. “Do you wish to stay? Until the end?”

There was no answer, and so he bid Pengon stay, while he left to inform The Company, for it was time to say goodbye to another brother.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

It was a strange place, where he was now; misty, surreal yet paradoxically real. He felt peace, he felt beauty around him, the ripe, fertile forrest, the verdant glade beneath his naked feet.

It was spring, it seemed, for wild flowers dotted the ground, laden with heavy drops of thick morning dew, making him want to touch and stroke the colorful velvety petals.

He could not decide where, exactly he was, for some features of the terrain were similar to the Greenwood, others to Imladris, and yet other aspects of it where completely foreign to him. One thing was for sure, that if he could have his love by his side, he would stay here, eternally – it would be the closest thing to paradise that he could imagine, except perhaps for the Evergreen Wood.

Climbing to his feet he wandered over to the trees, placing his palm on the rough, rich brown bark and smiling as the sentinel sang a song of praise. There was no darkness in it at all, only joy and – mischief, not the Greenwood then.

It was a strange place, where he was now, for he could feel the grass beneath his feet, yet it seemed to him that he floated. He knew it was morning, for the dew had not been absorbed yet, had not dissipated under the warming, comforting sun.

Where was he? And why did he feel so good? It was then that he realized he must be dreaming, but try as he might, he could not remember what had happened before he was here.

Sitting once more under the welcoming branches of the beech tree, he searched his euphoric mind for the answer, for he could not know if he dreamt unless he could remember where he had been before – could he? But then, did it really matter? He felt so good here, there was only one thing missing, for of the two things he wanted in this life, one he already had – this place, now if he could find Glorfindel…

Casting his eyes over the emerald green carpet before him, he now noticed the lovely red flowers that had blossomed suddenly. They were blood red, their petals large and papery, their hearts black. They wavered in the soft morning breeze and it seemed to him then, that they waved at him, and so he lifted his own hand and waved back, a feeling of well-being and euphoria washing over him once more…

It was a strange place, where he was, a land where poppies waved…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

King Thranduil Oropherion walked slowly between the elves that had gathered around the healing halls as they touched his mantle reverently. Yet there were no smiles, only sad faces that had come to pay their respects to one that had given much, one that soon, would leave them.

Once inside, he found the entire Company, save for its commander. They stood together, awaiting their king, for he would be the first to send their brother on his way.

It had been just after lunch when Lindo’s breathing had deteriorated, becoming audible, the soft sighs giving the impression that he dreamt.

Once inside the chamber, Thranduil nodded at Antien to one side, and Balentar to the other, and Thandion just behind them. They stood silently, their tunics pristine clean, their hands clasped before them.

Lindo’s lovely hair had been brushed until it shone, left to lie lose upon the pillow below him, his right arm adorned once more with the bands of The Company, of a Greenwood Lieutenant, of a master of archery and short sword. The king smiled sadly at this beautiful elf, one he had seen so many times in the company of his son, riding out to do his duty, or laughing and jesting during a ceremony, singing sweetly at a funeral – who now, would sing for him? he wondered.

Approaching the bed and the softly gasping elf, he placed his hand upon the cool brow, lowered his head, and kissed it reverently, his words succinct yet heart-felt.

“Farewell, brave warrior. Well have you served – so go in victory, hero of the Greenwood.”

He stood then and placed his hand over his heart, bowing his head, before turning and leaving the chamber, stopping before The Company that now awaited their turn.

“Today you lose a brother to this life, yet know that he will be reunited with those that went before him, for in Mandos’ Halls, The Company await him, will guide him until that day when they will all be returned to us, and you will be together once more, across the sea.

The silence was absolute, save for the soft crying of the younger, junior healers and helpers, too inexperienced to have witnessed scenes such as these.

Gliding away with Lainion at his heals, the King made for his son’s rooms, leaving Lainion at the doorway once more.

And thus began the sad goodbyes that would mark the end of Lindohtar, the Bard Warrior.

……………………………………………………………………………….

Rhrawthir, Fierce Face

Ai, Lindohtar, Bard Warrior, may your journey be adventurous, we will meet again, and perhaps then, it will be you who greets me there…

Rafnohtar, Winged Warrior

Would that you could stay, for Glammohtar has come to love you – you have changed him, made him a better person, and for that, I thank you, my friend. And then you are my friend, too, and I will miss you. Safe journey…

Nanern, Teller of Tales

Alas, Lindo, sweet Bard, fierce warrior. So many times have we fought together, laughed, cried and enjoyed life – this I will miss sorely. Yet know this – that I, the spinner of yarns, will tell your tale to all, that they never forget you. Go then, to the open arms of our brothers…

Idhrenohtar, Wise Warrior

I will remember. I will remember your eyes, your loving nature, your sensitive heart you shielded so well from the enemy. I will remember your dagger from Beleriand, the earring that Imrahthon gifted you and that had you strutting and swaggering for days. Farewell, my friend, I will remember you.

Pengon, Arrow Elf

Oh, but the times we have shared, my friend. The battles we have fought, the songs we have sung, the reels we have danced… all this, and more, I will miss. Fare thee well Lindohtar, and greet my brothers in the Halls of Waiting.

Koron en’ Naur, Ball of Fire

What now, shall we do, without your voice to sing our happiness, our sadness? Who will fill the silent moments with beauty? Who will give voice to our feelings, give thanks and promise remembrance with pure note and heart-felt strength? Perhaps then, in those moments, we should be silent, in remembrance of you, and smile – always.

Ram en’ Ondo, Wall of Stone

I have nothing to say, except that I love you well, brother, that now, I will take you with me, and keep you safe, always.

Dimaethor, Silent Warrior

And so I relieve you of your duty, warrior. You have served your king and your people well. You have fought bravely, defied the enemy, rode valiantly into battle and suffered for it. You have laughed and cried, joked and loved and I will remember you, lieutenant. Ride now into peace at last, brother.

Glammohtar, Screaming Warrior

I cannot, I, how does one do this? How can I say goodbye to one so central to my life? How… I do not want to lose you, so soon after finding you. I, I never told you, Lindo, but I do love you, I know it now, yet did you know? Did you? Would that I could be sure. You gave me love, returned to me my confidence, my self-esteem, you changed me beyond recognition, made me a better elf, and now you leave me? ‘Tis not fair, love, yet what to do? For the folly of one has taken you…

Lindo took a halting breath then, and Glammohtar startled as he placed a hand over his lover’s heart. He felt the organ thudding and dancing inside his chest until it shuddered to a stop. He sat there, waiting for it to start again, but it did not. Looking desperately at his face he realized no breath passed his lips. He looked frantically at Antien, standing beside him.

“He does not breathe!”

Antien did not answer, but simply stood and waited.

“Lindo?” One last glance at Antien told him that he was not going to do anything, he was just going to stand there as his love died. It was a brief moment of incomprehension, irrational he knew, but he could not quite believe what was happening…

Turning back to the body of Lindo, his eyes finally filled with tears as his head dropped to the now still chest, and there he stayed.

Antien, Balentar, Thandion and the junior healers walked slowly from the room, meeting the faces of The Company. A simple nod from Antien and each warrior turned, some sitting, others covering their mouths, others sinking to their knees as the first keening wail of utter despair and sorrow ripped through their hearts.

A few moments later, laments could be heard from the gardens outside, one voice that was then joined by another, and another, until the Sylvans, Avari and Sindar fell into a beautiful, chilling descount of wailing and singing that would last the rest of the day, and all through the night.

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

His conscious mind suddenly came together from wherever it had been flying, concentrating in one place. Sound came to him first, a strange, clinking noise close by, then came the pain, softly at first, until it began to intensify, becoming almost unbearable, alarming him so that his eyes flew open together with his mouth, the sudden inrush of air bringing someone close to his head. The air felt good as it entered his body, but it hurt so much he felt tears run down the sides of his face. He wanted to gasp again but feared the pain it would bring. He felt a hand on his forehead as his body screamed for the air that would not come…

“Breathe!”

He gulped in another painful lungful of air, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough, he was suffocating…

“Breathe!”

His heart beat so fast he could feel it’s pulse at the back of his throat, he needed air, another breath that rattled strangely – still not enough, not enough! His head felt light and the sound of rushing water came to his ears – he was suffocating…

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Balentar and Antien sat quietly just outside Legolas’ room, Thandion and Elladan were inside with the King, his Avari guard stopping him from approaching the bed, for he would not sit, even though he now knew that his son was not awake.

Thandion wiped the patient’s tear-streaked face, his own clearly revealing his feelings, at least to Elladan; either the healer was secretly pining for Legolas, or – they were lovers, something that would not surprise him, for Legolas had more lovers than he had arrows!

It had been Antien who witnessed Legolas’ second awakening, and for all his experience as a master healer, it had startled him. It was also true that he had rarely seen such extensive damage in a patient that was still alive, that is, and this was precisely what they spoke of now, for recovery was going to be delicate, and difficult, and decisions needed to be made.

Elladan monitored his friend’s pulse, which was rapidly returning to normal after having accelerated out of control for a few seconds. He hadn’t been there at the time, but he had seen Antien’s pale, shaken face just afterwards.

He pitied the king then, for he had had to sit through what must have been quite an ordeal, restrained physically from reaching his son, and even now, he stood hovering over Lainion’s shoulder, trying for but a glimpse of him.

“My King, if we allow you to approach for a moment, do not jostle him in any way, and you must move away as soon as a healer approaches. If you can adhere to those rules, my Lord, I am sure there will be no harm done…” Where Elladan had found the courage to speak to the imposing king in that manner he knew not, but he had said it, and in no uncertain terms.

Thranduil simply nodded, in turn admiring the Noldo’s capacity to lead. He was at the bedside in two strides, looking down on his son, his eyes filling with tears as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I have been here many times, at his bedside, and yet this is different, I know. This is not an injury he will recover easily from – he could not breathe, Elladan,” he said, anguish and pain radiating from his words.

“I think perhaps that Antien and Balentar will brief you anon, my Lord, brief us all, for if we are to help him, we must first understand how it is to be achieved. I know, however, that Legolas is one of the strongest elves I have ever met – he will fight this just as vehemently as he does the orcs and Uruks that infest the Mirkwood, my Lord.”

“Aye, I know, Lord Elladan, I know this, and yet I sense great suffering on the horizon – some feeling of dread and doom has descended upon me and I cannot shake it.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Company had stayed together in the gardens surrounding the halls of healing, somewhat away from the many elves that continued to wait for news on their prince’s condition. Melven, however, was absent, having wandered away in search of solitude. They had not wanted him to, but he had insisted most vehemently, simply pushing them away almost absent-mindedly, before walking into the woods.

They sat in a circle, in the centre of which sat four, fat skins of wine. They were reminiscing, as was their wont when a brother was lost, for it eased the pain that grief brought with it.

Lindo’s funeral would be the following day, for his sister was on her way from their home village to the north-west. She was his only family member left on Arda, their parents having sailed many years ago, leaving the two adult siblings behind, for they had felt no desire to leave.

Elladan made his way to them, flopping down onto the springy lawn beside Ram en’, who looked decidedly better than he had the last time Elladan had seen him.

“How is that hand, Ram en’?” he asked, for it was wrapped heavily in bandages.

“I broke two fingers and fractured a knuckle, nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days,” he added nonchalantly as he swiped at a skin of wine and took a long swig from it, before passing it to Rafno.

“Drink, healer, you deserve it.”

Smiling, Elladan took the wine and drank deeply, savoring the surprisingly rich brew.

“What news, brother?” asked Pengon, fully expecting a negative response, yet he was surprised when Elladan began to speak.

“Well, Hwindo awoke briefly, and that in itself is good.”

He had their entire attention now, yet Pengon had seen the hestitation.

“But?”

“But, his suffering was considerable, Pengon. This will be no easy journey.”

It was strange, for inside the halls, he would not have expressed himself thus, yet here, sitting amid this circle of friends, he was both healer and warrior.

“’Tis not the first time, and it will not be the last,” said Dima, as he stared off into nothing, accepting the skin from Koron en’.

“Nay,” continued Nanern. “I remember Hwindo and Ram en’ going over a cliff together, and before you laugh, Noldo, ‘tis the truth,” he said seriously.

Elladan had, indeed, thought that his companion was spinning another tale, and yet Koron en’ continued what was obviously a true story.

“We were outnumbered, as usual, and both had been cut off from the rest of us, until the orcs lead them to the precipice where they finally tumbled over it, down a rocky cliffside and to the banks of the Anduin below.”

“They lay there for hours,” continued Idhreno, “until we could get down there to help them. Ram en’ had broken both legs, all his ribs on one side and had given himself a concussion that would have him unconscious for a week!”

Elladan sucked in his breath, imagining the pain involved in that.

“Aye, and Hwindo? you may ask,” added Pengon finally, “well, he simply sat up and looked at us all, as if we were trespassing. He asked what had taken us so long, to which we actually laughed, until his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious. He got out of that one with a broken leg, arm, shoulder, three fingers, eh…”

“A toe,” continued Dima, “oh, and his nose!”

They all chuckled then, until the worried silence returned, save for the sloshing of wine as Nanern took a long draft.

“Ai, the times we have shared, the things we have seen,” said Pengon wistfully. “They say our commander has a destiny before him, that he will be the catalyst of something – transcendental – I wonder then, if peace will finally come to this land…”

“I tell you, Pengon,” began Rafno as he swiped at an errant dribble of wine that had escaped his lips. “I was there, on his day of crowning, and you are right. I believe that Legolas is the hope of elves, that his future, his deeds, will bring the peace you so ardently strive for, the peace that Lindo has died for today – that he will, in the end, honor them all, honor their sacrifice – this, I believe.”

His brothers sat watching him, their eyes shining, their hearts just a little easier, a small spark of hope in their wise eyes, eyes that had seen so much death and suffering, and that would yet see so much more.

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

He was there, in that wondrous place again, but this time, he was not alone, for Lindohtar sat before him.

He looked beautiful, thought Legolas, as he sat, watching him as he brushed his hand over the verdant grass upon which they both now sat, cross-legged before each other.

“Lindo?”

“Aye, Legolas.”

“What – I am, I confess I am…”

“Confused? Yes, as am I, Legolas,” he whispered.

“I know not where I wander, yet I know ‘tis not the Greenwood, in fact, I think – I think I may not be – alive,” said Legolas. “Are we both in Este’s garden, think you?” he asked.

“Nay, my friend. I think, perhaps,” he chuckled, “that I am more lucid than your regal self!” exclaimed Lindo, who sat staring at his lord now, the light of challenge in his lovely eyes.

“I think, Hwindo, that I am close to Mando’s mighty gates, yet you – you are closer to the Greenwood, closer to our people, our king, to my own heart.”

Legolas peered at this elf that he knew so well, boring past his eyes, into his mind, searching for the meaning of his words, for it was true – Lindo seemed to be far ahead of his own reasoning, for all that he could not fathom the reasons why that would be.

“I, am dying, and you, are recovering. I will move on, and you - you will stay.”

“What do you mean?” whispered Legolas, rhetorically, tears now pooling in his eyes, for he really had understood, yet he did not want to recognize the truth of Lindo’s words, for to do so would mean to lose him, as he had lost so many others, and it would be his fault – for Barathon had been the cause of it, he remembered now.

“I mean, Hwindo, that this is the end of the road for us – for me for I leave, and for you because you return, and yet to a different fate, perhaps. I remember telling you, yet you could not hear, for you suffered. Yet now I repeat my last words to you on Middle-earth, for time is short, and I am summoned now.”

Legolas could do nothing but watch his friend as he spoke the words, and the truth took hold of his heart and his mind. He knew somehow, that he was right, and yet he could not reason it, for his mind was in utter chaos; he knew not where he was, when he was, and yet he did know that Lindo was right.

He dipped his head as he tried desperately, and failed, to stay the tears that now poured from his eyes, and the moment melted with the one he now began to remember, lying there under the spider, their hands clasped tightly, as Lindo pronounced his last words…

“Hwindo. My Lord and Commander; such a pleasure it has been, such honor as no other warrior could have. ‘Tis true that philosophy was never my strong point, but I know this – that destiny has in store for you a great feat, one I wish I could see, participate in, yet doubt not that when the deed is done and you are victorious, I will sing your praises from afar, and then wait patiently for your homecoming, together with our brothers… Hwindo?”

Legolas raised his head with difficulty then, for it felt heavy and fuzzy, yet sadness razed his body, for he knew these were the last moments of Lindohtar amongst the still living.

“ - tell Glammo that I know, I know. And that my answer is… ‘you’,” he said finally, as Legolas peered through the watery haze at his friend, his companion of centuries, as his form began to dissipate, losing definition, until he finally faded into nothing and he was left alone.

And then, he hung his head and cried, for Lindo had gone, dead, another sculpture upon the crenellations, another wound in his heart, another sin upon his flawed soul.

“Alas, sweet Bard…, I am so very sorry.”
- 28
- 29
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