Silent Song

It’s done at last! *Never* has a chapter given me as many problems as this one has! Loads of thanks to Sildil, Mirfain, Taelin, Punisher and Elvensong, who read, offered suggestions, re-read and reassured me!

I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 9

The sound of hoof beats filled Rúmil's ears, while his eyes remained fixed on the landscape before him. It felt like they had been riding for hours, surely it could not be far now! Urging his horse to go even faster, he pushed on towards the village.
"We're nearly there." Elrohir's voice cut into Rúmil's thoughts, as though they had been read. The young twin smiled reassuringly at the Galadhrim, though Rúmil did not respond.
He heard well enough, but the words did little to ease his troubled heart. Until Lindir was in his arms once more, he would find no peace.

They rode hard, coming ever closer to the village. Rúmil's face was set, his expression one of fear and determination. He could not fail Lindir, now or ever.
Beside him was Orophin, ever supportive and encouraging. Rúmil was glad for his brother's presence; it reminded him that he was not alone in his quest. There was more than just Lindir's life at stake here.

It was not the village that came into view first, however. A thin column of smoke rose into the sky, mingling with the clouds and carrying the smell of fear and pain to sensitive elven senses.
"Are they burning the village?" Elladan cried in alarm.
Rúmil paled as the words were spoken and Orophin looked worriedly at his brother. "I pray they are not." He replied, knowing that if it were so, it may already be too late for a rescue. That Rúmil knew it too was evident by the terrified look on his face.
Orophin bit his lip and offered up a prayer to the Valar that Lindir yet lived as they approached the outskirts of the human settlement.

**************

He couldn’t breathe. Smoke surrounded him, filling his lungs and getting into his eyes. All he could feel was the heat, becoming more and more intense as the flames came closer. The flames seemed to be dancing as they crept towards him, taunting and teasing him before they took him into their embrace.
He pushed back against the pole, as if he could somehow become a part of it and escape the now inevitable fiery death.

Tears fell from his eyes, tears that were only partly from the smoke. His heart was breaking at leaving Rúmil. He could feel the Galadhrim’s pain grow with each inch closer the flames came to his body. He had vowed to erase that pain, not to break his shattered heart even more.

He hung his head, coughing as smoke invaded his body. He cursed these evil men for their dark hearts, cursed the villagers for having no minstrels of their own, even cursed Elrond for agreeing to their request. He did not want to die when he had so much to live for!

“Rúmil.” He sobbed, the soft sound lost in the roar of the flames.


************

Helethir's men had surrounded the square, after rounding everyone up. Bad enough that one elf had escaped; they would take no more chances. All the villagers would watch the elf burn and know never to cross them. Then they would kill the other elves and leave their bodies as a warning to all of their species.

However, this phad had one flaw. It left the outskirts of the village empty of all but a few men, who had no idea of the elven patrol riding towards them.

Duindil, Beraidros and Goremyn were on guard at the western edge of the village. Their moods were dark, disgruntled as they were at being given such a position. They were missing out on all the fun; they had wanted to watch as the elf burned. The ones the elves had killed had been known to them and they felt that they were beienieenied their revenge. In their minds, they saw the attack on Rúmil’s patrol as justified defence of their territory. That was what Helethir had said, so it must be right.

Slumped on boxes near the front of a house, they started as they heard horses approaching.
Looking towards the source of the sound, they gasped in horror as they saw the large elven patrol riding at speed towards them. Before any had the chance to react, they were surrounded.

Orophin was off his horse first, grabbing the man nearest to him, while the others were held at bay with Elven arrows.
It was Elladan who spoke though, as his command of westron was better.
"Where are the elves?"
"Elves? We ain't seen no elves!" The man lied. The he let out a sharp gasp as the point of Rúmil’s arrow nudged his back.

"I'm afraid my friend doesn't believe you." Elladan said calmly. "He can be quite persuasive, so I do suggest you co-operate."

"I told ya, there ain't no elves!e mae man tried to move away from the arrow-tip digging into his back. "Except the dead ones." He smirked, hearing the horrified gasps.
“You had best be lying!” Elladan hissed. “Or you may not live to regret it!” He turned to three of the guards. “Bind them and remain here. Make sure no others come.”
They acknowledged his orders with a curt nod and dragged the men away.
Elladan turned back to the others, noting the agitated look in Rúmil’s eyes.
“Let us move. I fear this does not bode well.”

Within seconds they were back on their horses and riding the short way to the village centre, to where the answers to their fearful questions awaited.
With the horses’ hooves clattering on the roughly laid stones, they arrived.

*************

The first of the flames licked at the corner of his robes, eating away at the pale material. He watched, the flames seeming to move in slow motion, as if in a dream. But this was no dream, he knew that his time had come and soon he would walk in Mandos’ Halls.

Darkness crept into the corners of his vision, heat and smoke causing him to feel dizzy. Lindir knew he was losing consciousness and he welcomed this turn of events. The Valar willing, he would pass out before the fire ate his flesh, saving him from an agonizing death. He had given up all hope of life and he willed himself not to panic as he felt the raw heat on his skin, even through his fading awareness.

As he sank into the comforting blackness of oblivion, he was vaguely aware of the sound of hoof beats far away.wondwondered who it was arriving at this time, but he had no chance to find out as darkness claimed him.

************

Rúmil paled at the sight that met his eyes. Lindir was bound to a post in the town square, surrounded by burning wood, the smoke rising ever higher. His eyes were closed and Rúmil couldn't tell if he was still breathing.
Rage and ice-cold fear filled his heart like never before as his worst nightmare played out before him. If Lindir was dead... he couldn't even finish the thought.

Orophin tore his eyes away from the horror to glance at his brother. Rúmil's face was white and his raging emotions blazed in his eyes. Suddenly he urged his horse forward, drawing his sword as he went.

Part of Orophin was horrified at the rashness of Rúmil's actions, but he knew he would be the same if it were Elladan's life in danger. Nodding to the twins and Glorfindel, he raced after his brother, the others a split second behind him. He drew his bow as he went, knowing that Rúmil was likely to have little regard for his own safety. He would watch out for him.

Helethir looked up as the elves forced their way into the village, his eyes widening in shock and anger. Instantly he knew what had happened - the other elf had made it back and sent help. His eyes darkened as he glanced at the pyre.mattmatter what else happened, he was determined that the elf would die. He drew his sword and stood as close as he dared to the flames. There was an elf riding directly towards him and Helethir was determined to stop him. His sword was drawn and he was ready for combat. But the elf did not attack. He did something quite erenerent.

Rúmil galloped into the centre of town, heading straight for the fire. Two men rushed him, but he cut them down with swift brutality and the sounds of their dying screams filled the air. He hardly even noted them; his eyes were fixed firmly on the figure nearly consumed by smoke and flame.

His horse shied as he got near, refusing to go any further. Without hesitation Rúmil pulled his hood up and wrapped his cloak around him, before leaping into the flames. Teat,eat, flame and smoke did not bother him; all that mattered was the one at the centre.

"RÚMIL!" Orophin cried out in horror as his brother plunged into the fire and vanished from sight.

Rúmil’s heart pounded in his chest as he entered the flames. He had to move fast, or he would smb bmb before he could get Lindir out. Keeping his cloak wrapped tightly about him, he jumped forward to the centre of the pyre, trying not to let the smoke into his lungs.
He started when his hand touched something soft, but his heart leapt when he realised it was Lindir.
Swiftly he reached around the back of the pole and sliced the bonds holding Lindir. The limp form fell into his arms and he wrapped him in his cloak as much as he could, making sure his head was covered before leaping back through flamflames.
Once out he flung the both of them to the ground and rolled, for there were still flames eating away at Lindir’s robes and he had also been caught by the flames.

The entire rescue took seconds, but already he was dizzy from smoke inhalation, his breath coming in short gasps. Fear for Lindir still filled him, had he come too late?
Staggering away from the fire, he had no time to check his lover; instead he picked him up and headed towards one of the nearby buildings.

However, his brave actions had been watched by Helethir, who was furious that the elf had been rescued. Be the elf alive or dead, his plans wer rui ruins. With a feral cry he leapt at Rúmil, who was unable to defend him wit with Lindir in his arms.
Luckily, he was not the only one who had been watching. Seeing his brother in trouble, Orophin leapt to his defence, blocking Helethir’s blow and allowing Rúmil to carry Lindir into a s woo wooden house.

Once inside, Rúmil laid Lindir down and checked anxiously for signs of life. His fingers searched for a pulse as he laid his head on his lover’s chest, seeking a heartbeat.
He sobbed in relief when a faint heartbeat reached his ears and his fingers felt the pulsing of blood through Lindir’s veins. He had made it.
Pulling the minstrel’s head into his lap, conscious of the ongoing battle outside, Rúmil shook Lindir’s shoulders gently, trying to wake him.

Lindir moaned softly. He was vaguely aware of another nearby and that he was no longer surrounded by unbearable heat. The moan caused another shake to his shoulders and he forced his eyes to open. He could hardly believe the vision that greeted his eyes.
“Rúmil?” His voice was hoarse from the smoke and full of disbelief. His lover smiled, tears in his eyes as he thanked the Valar for this miracle. He kissed Lindir softly and then looked him over carefully. His robe was burned and charred in places and he clearly had burns on his arms and legs, but they did not look serious. Rúmil had got to him just in time. Any later and the flames would have bitten into his flesh beyond even elven healing.
“I’m fine.” Lindir did his bes rea reassure Rúmil with his smoke roughened voice. The sounds of battle outside could still be heard. “You should help them.” Lindir had to smile at the weapons Rúmil carried and the light in his eyes. Somehow, he knew that this was the true Rúmil, the warrior elf that still existed beneath the pain and despair he had been consumed by.
Rúmil nodded, gesturing firmly for Lindir to stay put.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Lindir promised. Rúmil gave him one last kiss, then drew his sword again and headed out.

******************

Swords clashed as Orophin engaged Helethir in battle. “You will not take my revenge from me!” The human seethed. “You will all die!” He lunged for Orophin, but the elf easily blocked the blow.
“You almost took everything from me!” Orophin cried. “You will take no more!” He swung at the man, but Helethir was faster than the Galadhrim had realised and he sidestepped the blow.
Orophin, intent now on his own revenge, growled and attacked again.
Helethir returned the attack and the two fell into a vicious dance, both intent on bloodshed.

Exiting the building, Rúmil’s eyes fell on Orophin, in combat with the man he had surmised was the leader. His expression darkening, he moved up behind the evil man.
Orophin smirked as he saw Rúmil come up behind Helethir. Though he wanted to strike the killing blow, he understood that Rúmil wanted it, needed it, more.

Rúmil was furious. This was the man responsible for the death of his patrol, of Lindir’s suffering and indirectly, for the loss of his voice.
He grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, forcing the man to drop his sword and look into the blazing anger held in Rúmil’s eyes.
“It was his patrol your men attacked.” Orophin said coldly. “But he survived. You failed.”
“Pity.” Helethir spat into Rúmil’ce. ce. “The more dead elves the better. I liked the fear on that minstrel’s face as he began to burn.”
It was the last straw.
Throwing Helethir to the ground, Rúmil dealt the man the most horrible death he could think of – he slit the man’s throat. He couldn’t help but feel satisfied as the man looked up in shock and fear, before mortality claimed him. Rúmil was taking no chances however, needing to ensure the man was dead, he drove his sword into Helethir’s heart.

Looking dow the the dead human, a strange feeling washed over Rúmil. It was over. Orophin placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, smiling softly. Maybe now they could truly move on.

The death of Helethir had a powerful effect on the rest of his men. They had thought him invincible, to see him die at the hands of an elf, not even in true combat, was a crushing blow to their spirit.
They tried to flee, to escape the vengeful elves, but to no avail. Glorfindel, the twins and the rest of the elven patrol cut them off and cut them down, until there were none left. No more would suffer at the hands of these evil men, the elves would make sure of it.

*****************

Hurrying back to where he had left Lindir, Rúmil entered the small building. The minstrel had pulled himself into a sitting position and was leaning heavily against the wall. Still, he managed a smile as his lover entered. “Is it over?” Lindir asked weakly, the pain of his wounds beginning to make themselves known now.
The Galadhrim nodded, scooping Lindir into his arms and smiling lovingly. The minstrel wrapped his arms around Rúmil’s neck, feeling safe now that they were together, something they had both feared would never happen again. He rested his head on Rúmil’s shoulder as he was carried out.

Orophin and Elrohir entered the hut where the other elves and Ramiath were being held, while Glorfindel and Elladan went to see to the villagers.
Elrohir cried out as he took in the still form of Mellachion, lying by Ramiath, who had used his over-tunic as pillow. As Orophin released the others, Elrohir dropped to his knees beside his fellow guard.
“Does he live? Ramiath asked softly. “I cannot tell.” Elrohir looked up.
“Barely.” He replied. “He has lost much blood. Even with proper care, I do not know if he will survive.”
Ramiath dropped his head. “I am so sorry.” He whispered. “I only wanted to protect my people.”
Elrohir did not yet know the full story, but he suspected this man had been involved.
“There is no time for blame now.” He said. “We must do what we can for the injured.”
Orophin came over then, several worried-ing ing minstrels behind him.
“They seem uninjured, but it will be a while before they recover from what has happened here. They are worried for Lindir, I am going to find Rúmil and see how he fares.”
Elrohir nodded. “I hope he is well. Call me should needneed assistance.”
“I will.” Orophin replied, before hurrying out.

He came across Rúmil with Lindir in his arms, heading towards them. Lindir looked terrible, but to Orophin’s great relief, he was smiling and very much alive. Rúmil was smiling too, the sheer relief clear on his brother’s face.
“Thank the Valar. We were so worried, Lindir.” He said, reaching out a hand to squeeze Rúmil’s shoulder.
“I was worried too.” Lindir laughed hoarsely. “I was getting a bit hot!” Orophin chuckled, he could not be too badly injured if he was laughing, no matter how terrible his voice sounded.

Elrohir had done his best for Mellachion, but the elf was still in grave danger. It would be risky to move him, but to get back to Imladris was his only hope. “Hold on my friend.” He murmured, fixing another bandage to the wound. “Do not leave us now.” He quickly ordered Ramiath to stay with him, then got up and stepped outside. As he did so, Glorfindel and Elladan also came to meet them, looking weary but well. The relief that Lindir was alive was almost a tangible thing, much as their fear had been.
“Mellachion is the worst injured.” Elrohir said. “We must get him back to Imladris with all haste. Even that may not be enough, but we must try.”
“I agree.” Glorfindel said. “Yet some must remain here, to assist the villagers. You take Mellachion, Rúmil, Lindir and two guards. The rest of us will follow once things are settled here.”
“Very well.” Elrohir stepped back into the hut, returning a moment later with Mellachion in his arms. With Glorfindel’s help, they got the wounded guard onto the horse, holding him until Elrohir mounted and supported him.
“Good luck” Elladan said quietly.
His twin smiled grimly. “He’ll need it.”

Elrohir looked over to Rúmil, who had helped Lindir to mount and was now getting on himself. Catching Elrohir’s eye, Rúmil signalled that he was ready to depart.
“We’ll see you soon.” Elrohir promised, then turned and rode out of the village; heading back they way they’d come only a short while ago.

Rúmil took in the feeling of Lindir pressed against him, not caring about the smell of smoke and grime his lover currently possessed. He was here and here was alive, that was all that mattered. He kept his arms securely around him as they began the long ride back to Imladris.

End Chapter 9