DARK ELF
Prologue:
Betrayal
Betrayed.
He was betrayed.
She had betrayed him. The
enormity of what she had done had paralyzed his mind with fury and it did not
satiate his rage that he had seen her die by his own hand. She had succumbed
too easily for her crime. He wanted to make her suffer. He wanted to make her
pay for daring to leave him and compounding her crime by attempting to steal
his son away from him, the boy whose mind she had spent years poisoning, in
preparation to commit her foul crime upon he, her lord and master. How dare
she? He would have killed both of them if he could but fate had seen to it that
only one would know the taste of his justice. It stung bitterly that he would
not have opportunity to let his son know his displeasure as he had shown his
dear, departed wife.
Now there was no time to do
anything as he was escorted up Caragdûr by Turgon’s guards who were to execute him for murdering his Aredhel, who was Turgon’s sister.
He knew Turgon disliked him, having accepted him only
because he had no choice in the matter. Aredhel had
bore him a son and that made them kinsmen no matter how he might have acquired
her in the first place. He was certain that Turgon
knew he would attempt to leave the Hidden City; in fact he was sure of it. Turgon knew that he could not remain in the light, that the
need to return home to Nan Elmoth would drive him to
escape at any costs. Turgon was waiting for it just
as Aredhel was he was certain, both of them, plotting
and conspiring their vengeance against him.
Turgon had never forgiven him for making Aredhel his wife. In truth, it was more of abduction than
any real effort on his part to court her. A Noldor
elf, she was one of its noblest daughters and a great beauty that had no peer.
With long waves of mahogany hair and sapphire colored eyes, she gazed at him
with all the beauty of the sea. How was he supposed to resist such a creature
that had strayed from the city of Gondolin beyond the
protection provided by Melian’s Girdle? He had taken Aredhel for his wife even though she had resisted most
vehemently. He took her the night he returned home to Nan Elmoth
and knew that eventually, she would warm to him by his insistence in making her
understand that she was belonged to him now. By the time he had filled her
belly with his son; she had more or less relented in her efforts to escape for
the child occupied her time.
Little did he know that she
was only quiet because she had acquired another accomplice for her betrayal.
This was not the end. He
did not intend to end his life now and certainly not by the hands of Turgon. It may appear that his list of options grew short
as he was being marched up the black precipice that was Caragdûr
but in truth, he had something of a plan for escape. Unfortunately, it was as
drastic as any that might be attempted and its results were mixed because he
would almost certainly lose the existence that he knew here. On the other hand,
if he did not do this, he could be assured of having Turgon
hunting him down for the rest of eternity, not simply for the death of his
sister but because he knew the location of the Hidden City.
If it were not for Turgon’s relentless desire to ensure the protection of his
city, a simple spell of illusion was all that he would use and he would return
home to Nan Elmoth. However, he could not risk that
news would not reach Turgon and the elven lord of Gondolin would not
resume his pursuit. The unfortunate reality of his situation was that there was
nowhere in Beleriand that he could hide and going to
Middle earth was out of the question, not when Melkor
still ruled there. He could probably seek protection from the former Valar but Melkor’s aid often came
at a terrible price and he was not about to beholding to the dark enemy for
anything.
No, there was only one way
to escape and he had no choice but to take it.
They reached the top of Caragdûr and the height to the rocks below made him swallow
thickly at how painful a death it would be, to be dashed upon them if his spell
failed. Caragdûr was protected by Melian’s
Girdle and any spell he attempted before this would have failed. Once he
stepped off its edge, he would slip beyond that protection and be free to
perform his necromancy. Unfortunately, he had a rather narrow margin for error
to ensure that it succeeded and fatal consequences if he failed.
The guards had said nothing
to him during the journey here and he had said nothing to them because he had
been in deep thought. However, now was the time to speak.
"Is this justice then?" He looked at them.
"More justice then you
deserve," the captain of the guard hissed. "You are not only a
murderer and a coward but also a violator of women. Death is the least you deserve."
"But it is death that
I shall receive!" he shouted and broke free of them.
They started to give chase
until they realised that he was not attempting to
leave Caragdûr but rather closing the distance to the
edge of the precipice. Pausing in confusing as he neared the edge, they could
not discern what his thoughts were as he leapt off the cliff and plunged
downwards, silent in his final moments. Looking at each other, they completed
the journey he had taken to the edge and gazed upon the rocks below, expecting
to see the body of the prisoner, but there was nothing.
Nothing at all.
************
Cold.
It was so cold. He could
not breathe. There was blinding pain and his body felt as if it were torn apart
in agony before the whoosh of air in his ears disappeared and was replaced by
icy, cold water. He opened his mouth to cry out but ice-cold salt water rushed
into it. The darkness around him was all consuming and he knew not how deep he
was in water. All he knew was that he had performed his spell in order to
escape the death of plunging into rocks from a great height, only to be drowned
in an ocean he did not know. Keeping his wits about him despite his panic, he
followed the direction of the bubbles that came out of his mouth. Swimming
faster than he had ever done before, his lung bursting with the need for air,
he sought out the sun on the surface of the water but could see nothing of it.
This struck cold fear into his heart and swam harder and harder, praying that
he was not so deep that he would never find it.
He did not know how long he
struggled to reach the surface, aware only that it could not be very long
because he would have drowned otherwise. After what seemed an eternity, he
finally saw the shimmer of its surface and when he broke through to reach air,
he was almost near death. Taking greedy gulps, one after the other, his limbs
exhausted from the ordeal to reach the surface, he was able to compose himself
enough to look about him. What he saw drove home the true nature of his
predicament. Where there should be the lands of Gondolin,
all he could see was miles of ocean. It was night and the moon illuminated his
surroundings to give him some measure of clarity in his situation. He was
threading water in the middle of a frozen ocean for there were sheets of ice
lying scattered on the waves.
However, there was no land.
There was no Gondolin and no Beleriand.
Terrified and confused at
how such a well thought out plan could have come to such decay, he swam to the
floating islands of ice and rested his limbs finally. Sleep took him soon enough
and he slumbered until morning. The first rays of dawn awoke him and he face
the ocean with the full light of morning to explain how far away he was from
all. The spell had drained him and because of his circumstances, it did not
appear that he would be replenishing his strength any time soon. He saw no
sight of land and wondered what could have happened to Beleriand.
Had Melkor finally committed some act of evil that
drove it under the sea?
Not knowing drove him mad
with fear for he wondered if he was all that was left of Beleriand
or the Eldar for that matter.
He remained on his sheet of
ice for days, surviving on raw fish that he managed to catch and drinking water
from with what little magic he had strength left to perform. What terrified him
the most was the eventuality that he would still be trapped on the ocean when
he had no more strength left and he would starve or freeze, whichever came
first. He could not believe that he had escaped Caragdûr
to end his days like a piece of driftwood. Perhaps it was Iluvutar’s
way of meting out justice. He did not know for certain but in the height of the
day when he panicked that his island of ice would melt, such thoughts filled
his mind.
It was almost a miracle
when he saw the ship and the ship in turn saw him.
The vessel was a fishing
boat and its purpose was to seek out delicacies of the sea only to be found at
this frozen edge of the world. The crew was composed of the Edain,
though the men that they were did not appear to be Numoreans
or call themselves such. He thought that they might have been the kind who
served Melkor in Middle earth but they seemed to know
little of the dark lord. When he told them he was of Beleriand,
they thought him to be mad for there was no longer such a land in existence. He
knew that his spell had sent him beyond the clutches of Turgon
but he had not considered how far he had traveled until faced with the fact
that Beleriand, where Gondolin,
Nan Elmoth and all the other realms that he had known
were now known as the Sunken Lands.
The captain, a learned man,
had spent much of the voyage back to land apprising him of the state of the
world that he knew nothing of. As far as the man was concerned, he was an elf
who had most likely fallen overboard in the exodus his people were making from
Middle earth. He listened intently, sometimes in astonishment as he learnt that
the Eldar were departing for Valinor
in large numbers, leaving the Middle earth to the ministrations of the Edain, who in this instance were the descendants of Numenor, following the War of the Ring. The captain
explained this war in great detail, having fought in the Battle of Pelennor. He spoke of Sauron and
the land of Mordor who for so many ages had been a
blight upon Middle earth.
He recalled vaguely one of Melkor’s lieutenants being called Sauron
and supposed that it was all possible that this Sauron
could have gained ascendancy over the land in his master’s absence. It mattered
little to him though he wished to know more about the fate of Beleriand and what had precipitated its sinking beneath the
sea. The captain advised that if he wished to learn about the ancient times
then it was to Rivendell that he should go. Rivendell was one of the oldest elven cities and if it was answers he sought, then the
captain was certain that as a fellow elf, he would be welcomed since not all
the elven cities were entirely abandoned yet.
They arrived in Pelargir and he found himself in a new world composed of Edain, Eldar, dwarves and even
some strange creatures that were rumored to be called hobbits. It did not take
him long to find his way to Rivendell. Attaching himself to a caravan of
peddlers who were traveling to a place called Bree,
they were more than happy to point the way with the adequate amount of coinage.
It was an easy matter for him to conjure a feat of illusion to make them
believe they were being well paid for their troubles. By the time they
discovered the swindle, they would be in Bree and he
would be in the company of the elves of Rivendell.
The journey to Rivendell
took some weeks and it was only because of his elven
senses that he was able to find it hidden in its valley. Those who had built
the city had taken care to ensure that it was not easily discovered, possibly
as a guard against Melkor’s servant, Sauron. While the protection around the city was nowhere as
formidable as Melian’s Girdle and had weakened
considerably since its lord had departed, the barrier was formidable and
ensured that no one who did not know the way could simply stumble upon it.
Upon arriving at Rivendell,
he was welcomed as one of them though they thought his speech was archaic. He
explained that he had been travelling the world for many ages and that this was
the first time that he had returned to Middle earth. Whether or not they believed
him was uncertain but they accepted that he was one of their own and gave him
shelter. He learnt quickly that Rivendell was in actual fact called Imladris, named so after the valley that the city had been
constructed and that its lord before his departure to Valinor,
had been Elrond. Elrond was one of the twin sons of the mortal hero Earendil and the elven princess Elwing, born in Arvernien and was
of Beleriand.
At Imladris,
he learnt what had become of Beleriand, how the ruin
of all the great kingdoms had come to pass with the relentless assaults by Melkor and the demons he spawned in Angaband.
The destruction he wrought in the eleven cities of Gondolin,
Nargothrond, Himland and so
many others had brought the intervention of the Valar
themselves, in what was known as the War of the Wrath. As a result of the
conflict, Beleriand was broken up and swallowed by
the sea.
He had sat there for a long
time, reading the books that explained all this, in something of a stunned
silence. He could not believe that the world he had known had ended so
tragically and that Nan Elmoth, the place he wanted
to return to so badly was no more. He had hoped that perhaps it existed
somewhere but supposed he should have guessed the truth when he had first found
himself in the depths of the ocean. For a time, he was uncertain what to do and
wandered the slowly emptying halls of Imladris,
trying to discern what course was left to him.
He had wandered through the
halls of what was once Lord Elrond’s home when he caught sight of something
that made his heart stopped beating. For an instant, he dared not breathe as he
basked in the vision of beauty that had been immortalized on the canvas of a
portrait. She stared at him with sapphire eyes, wearing the face of the only
woman he had ever loved. It was like looking into a reflection of the past and
finding that the image still living and breathing in the present. He was just
as lost as the day he had first looked into the woods of Nan Elmoth and saw the gleaming white figure that was Aredhel. This time, it would be different. She would love
him as he loved her and he would not be betrayed as he was by Aredhel, he would see to it. For the first time since
finding himself a drift and alone in the sea, his mind was clear because he
knew his course and he would do anything to acquire it.
And what Eol wanted was Arwen, Queen of Gondor.