The retreat
from Lossarnach was not even past the hour when Haradrim riders set out upon
their fastest mounts to the encampment of their Easterling comrades. Since the
destruction of Lebethron, the army responsible for the destruction of the small
township had marched quickly to
To this end, they had been forced to wait in secret,
and it was no easy feat to accomplish because elves were known to be of keen
eye and senses. Yet remain hidden they did, mostly in part because they were
far enough away from the enemy to assure anonymity. Taking refuge in the hills
flanking the
Three riders set out from the Haradrim refuge at the
foothills of the
Of the three that embarked upon the journey, only two
were able to reach their destination some days later. It was anticipated that
they might encounter difficulties along the way, which was why three had been
sent instead of one. However, when one had failed to arrive at their
destination, it mattered little because they cared not who knew the content of
the message carried. Time was with them and they knew that the
armies of Gondor, Ithilien and Rohan were too preoccupied with concerns of
their own to give them opposition when it came time for the Easterlings to
move.
The message spoke only a few words but it was more
than enough. Orders and plans of attack had been formulated and issued long
before the Easterling and their Haradrim allies had parted company. This
occasion was no exception. Of all the attacks they had planned with elaborate
devices set in place to deceive, this one in truth was the hardest and perhaps
the greatest gamble of them all. How the Easterling attack was perceived
by those who mattered, would decide the course of the war and the future of the
They wasted no time once the message reached them,
pausing long enough to familiarize themselves and their warriors with the plan
of attack. Some had serious misgivings about what they were about to do. It was
one thing to rape and pillage a small community of humans but quite another
thing entirely to launch an offensive against an elven city, even a fledgling
one. Far worse than the attack was the brutality that they were required
to dispense once the attack was underway. The Easterlings were not by
nature a barbarian race and while they viewed the destruction of Lebethron as a
necessary evil, not many were entirely happy that they were driven to such
savagery.
The dawn’s light saw them setting out from their
hiding place and knew that it would only be a matter of days before they
arrived at their destination. No longer afraid of moving in the light, these
army would make great haste in its journey and arrive there well ahead of any
other force, in the unlikely event there was any to be spared in these troubled
times. They anticipated opposition but had sufficient numbers amongst them to
overwhelm the enemy when they arrived. They knew their opponents well and
had taken no chances with their ability to defeat such effective warriors. It
had been almost three thousand years since the Easterlings had faced the enemy
and the tales of their skill in battle was not to be underestimated.
However, the Easterlings had ensured that this time, there would be no defeat.
Because it would be the numbers that decided how the
battle would play.
**************
Following the victory at Lossarnach, Aragorn had
allowed for little more than a day of rest for himself before he embarked upon
the business of dealing with the Haradrim army who was still roaming freely
through Middle earth. The arrival of Faramir and the Rohirrim cavalry had turned
the tide of the battle and though it took most of the night, they were finally
capable of bringing the rampant fires under some kind of control. The toll upon
Lossarnach however was considerable. There was not one corner of the city that
was not ravaged by destruction Aragorn found as he surveyed the destruction
after the last embers of flame had finally cooled. It would be a long time
before the city could take its place as a centre of beauty once again.
However, not all news was bad. They received word from
Rohan that King Eomer had returned to Edoras safely and that a Confederacy
inspired attack by Dunlending tribesmen had been thwarted with the wild men
being annihilated by the Rohirrim warriors. There was also some unexpected
assistance from the dwarves of Aglarond. Aware that their lord would approve of
their actions, the dwarves had offered military aid in ridding the Rohirrim of
the goblins who had slain Bowen and his army in the
This news was a source of great pride to Gimli who was
rather surprised that they would undertake such a course on their own volition,
but quickly claimed that dwarves were a sensible lot and they knew when they
were needed in a fight. Meanwhile, Imrahil had taken the army towards
Gondor, fortifying the defences around the
“Well at least Rohan is safe,” Aragorn declared over
the table that belong to the great hall of what was once Lord Fenreg’s castle. The young Steward was now one of the many
hundreds that had been buried over the past days in the wake of the attack.
“However, it concerns me greatly that the enemy was able to gain the support of
the goblins of Moria.”
“Their number is still large despite our best efforts
to vanquish them,” Gimli frowned. He had led a party to expunge their
infestation of Moria but like all vermin, they were difficult to exterminate
completely. With so much dead already in Moria, the dwarves had chosen to
abandon it to the ages rather than attempt to tame it. “Fortunately with the
end of the Balrog, their desire to expand their
borders seemed to have disappeared.”
“I fear that will change,” Aragorn sighed. “This
Haradrim king is no fool. He has drawn support from all our enemies, even the
goblins of Moria. It is a good thing that your people had chosen to aid the
Rohirrim Master Gimli. They could use the help.”
“It is true,” Faramir agreed. “The Rohirrim are not
mountain folk, they fight better in on plains. With the aid of your people
Gimli, they can defend themselves a good deal better and you will be afforded
their protection as well.”
“Yes,” Gimli nodded. “A
decidedly sensible arrangement for everyone concerned. My people are often
reluctant to get involved in such battles but if we are to live in Rohan then
we should be neighbourly about it.”
“I am certain that Eomer will appreciate it,” Aragorn
replied, taking a deep puff of his pipe. “I am glad to hear that he was
unhurt.”
“If his sister is anything to go by, they breed them
tough in Rohan.” Gimli smiled as he downed a goblet of wine.
“I will concur,” Faramir laughed and then become
slightly reflective as he thought of Eowyn and wondered how she fared. A pang
of longing surfaced inside of him for his golden haired shield maiden and hoped
there would be opportunity to return to Ithilien to see her. “Imrahil was
terribly grateful that Lothiriel was unharmed.”
“Shouldn’t they be married by now?” Gimli asked.
“That is better answered by my wife than I,” Aragorn
replied with a little smile. “I confess when the conversation falls to gossip
about who is to wed who, I think it is time to retire for the evening.”
“Their strategy is clear however,” Faramir said making
a move to a more serious subject. “They are attempting to scatter the council.”
“Agreed,” Legolas stated firmly. “Your nemesis in this
is a crafty one Aragorn. He seeks to divide us by attacking each of our realms.
In my case, it was a warning but there can be no doubt as to his intentions.”
“I wish we knew more about him,” Aragorn frowned
easing further into his chair as he thought about his encounter with Haradrim
leader. “He appears to be a man of the Sunlands but he was a Haradrim. It
takes a formidable man to unite all those disaffected voices. We must be doubly
on our guard after this.”
“He was certainly formidable when we fought,” Gimli
replied, stroking his beard as he recalled their battle and how close he had
come to losing his life at the man’s hands. “His people are willing to die for
him Aragorn and that is something I have never seen before. The Haradrim
underling took his place beneath my axe without question. I do not think even
Sauron commanded that much loyalty.”
“Perhaps he does not command them with the fear of the
sword but rather with respect,” Legolas pointed out. “You of all people know
how fiercely soldiers will fight for a king that they love greatly. If this
king has engendered this kind of affection then we are looking at entirely
different war. Aragorn,” Legolas met the king of Gondor’s eyes, “this may take
years and it will never stop until one side wins.”
“I know,” Aragorn nodded sadly. “I wished with all my
heart that it had not come to this, but it has and you are right old friend.
There will be no peace unless it is enforced by a final and complete defeat of
the Easterling Confederacy.”
The mood became as sombre as the dead and for a few
minutes no one spoke until Gimli reached across the table and poured himself
more wine from the flagon before them.
“Let’s us not discuss this any further tonight,” the
dwarf said with all the cheer he could muster, which was quite considerable
when he put his mind to it. It was almost impossible to keep from being
affected. “We cannot do anything about it, and it will do us no good dashing
our heads against the wall over troubles we cannot repair until the morrow.”
“For a dwarf, you make an uncommonly good deal of
sense,” Legolas teased.
“Well more than a damn elf can that’s for certain,”
the dwarf retorted.
Aragorn and Faramir rolled their eyes in resignation,
more than accustomed to the bantering by the members of two supposedly ‘older’
races.
“And they say men lack maturity,” Aragorn snorted in
Faramir’s direction.
Faramir was about to respond when suddenly, bursting
through the door was Nunaur. The march warden of Eden Ardhon appeared
positively ashen as he entered the room and sought immediately to reach
Legolas’ side. In his hand, he clutched a small scroll of paper. His grip
around it was so tight that it was almost a fist and the parchment was crushed
under the weight of his fingers.
“What is it?” Legolas demanded, his heart starting to
pound at the foreboding he could see in Nunaur’s
face.
“We intercepted a rider while scouting for the
Haradrim,” Nunaur spoke, quite out of breath. It was quite obvious that he had
rode hard from where he had been to reach them and had barely paused for rest.
“The rider was heading southwards, carrying this. I managed to pry the truth
from him and learnt that he was but one of three carrying the same message.”
“What message?” Aragorn spoke, becoming just as
anxious as Legolas.
The lord of Eden Ardhon took the crushed parchment in
his hand and read the contents. His eyes widened slightly, and the aloof mask
that they were so accustomed to seeing upon his features dropped completely and
in its place was nothing less than blind panic.
“READY MY HORSE!” Legolas shouted as he tossed it away
and started towards the door.
“I ordered it as soon as I arrived,” Nunaur answered,
following his lord with complete ignorance of the fact that they were not
alone.
“Legolas!” Aragorn cried out but neither elf was
listening as Legolas strode out of the room with Nunaur following close behind.
Their footsteps could be heard breaking into run as they drew further and
further away. Aragorn reached the scroll of paper first when it appeared
that no answer was forthcoming. He picked it up and registered the same horror
as Legolas.
“Faramir,” Aragorn said softly, but his voice was cold
as ice. “Get the men ready, we ride within the hour.”
Faramir knew the look in his king’s eyes well enough
to make no effort at questioning the request. “As you will.”
“What does it say?” Gimli demanded, his patience able
to bear it no further.
“It says,” Aragorn managed to speak through gritted
teeth. “Show no mercy to
************
Life in Eden Ardhon continued, in much the way it had
since the colony was established, despite the conflict beyond its
borders. The business of establishing a new elven kingdom in the woods of
South Ithilien continued and though it had been many months since they settled
here, there was still so much work to be done. For many of the elves led here
by Legolas from the kingdoms of Lothlorien and Mirkwood, Eden Ardhon was a chance to accomplish something
that elves rarely had opportunity to do, something completely new from start to
finish. Most of the elves that had journeyed with Legolas to this distant realm
had been born after the establishment of elven kind in Middle earth. They
existed in cities already built and there was little that could be contributed
that would echo with their distinct voice.
Here in Eden Ardhon was a chance to create some unique
in the face of their diminishing presence in Middle earth. It was no surprise
that many of the elves that had chosen to remain instead of sailing into the
Undying Lands were relatively young, being no more than three millennia old.
While to men and dwarves, this may seen like an age, for the elves this was
still a time of youth, and the ability to express it without the eye of their
elders reminding them of how it was all done before was a wonderful opportunity
indeed. Of course, this did not mean that they were immature in any way
or lacking good sense. Three thousand years had given them a good deal of
experience in all things and there was just enough jaded essence in them to
walk on the side of caution.
It was the scouts who first caught sight of the
Easterling army in all its terrible strength. The elves had suspected
that there might be enemies in their midst but not even they had anticipated the
true volume of their enemy’s number. Only a small force had attacked the
The gift of foresight had allowed the elves to sense
that some peril was drawing close. In these troubled times, they were
quick to dispatch scouts beyond the boundaries of their territory to determine
the exact nature of this so far unseen threat. As they drew closer to the edge
of the great wood in which Eden Ardhon had made its home, the greater the sense
of urgency became until it was so palpable that they could choke upon its
fumes. Its potency was thick as it was completely encompassing. It
surrounded them on all fronts, like a ring of fire contracting around them with
each passing second.
Upon the scouts’ return to Eden Ardhon, the order for
evacuation was given though all were still somewhat astonished that it had come
to this. Not for three millennia had the race of men attempted to war against
the elves so openly and the time had lulled the Eldar into complacency. Lothlorien, Mirkwood and Imlardis had protection of its own, ensuring that an enemy
could never breach its borders to cause its people harm. Eden Ardhon was too
new for such enchantments and the prospect of invasion was so new to many of
them, that coping with it was not easy. Nevertheless, there was presence
of mind to make an effort at evacuation though the enemy quite effectively
severed their routes of escape. The only way left to them was by river, and
there were not nearly enough boats to facilitate the evacuation of everyone
from the colony.
By the time it became clear to the elves they would
have to fight, half of their number were sailing down the River Poros, away from the danger. What remained was the
entire arsenal of warriors in Eden Ardhon who had elected to positioned
themselves around their home in a defensive perimeter and hold the line against
the army that hopelessly outnumbered them. The rest hid where they could,
using their skill as elves to mask themselves in the trees, hoping that would be
enough to save them from the onslaught of what was becoming inevitable.
**************
Melia could not find Anna.
The child had fled when news had returned from the
scouts of the eminent Easterling invasion. As evacuation became
necessary, Melia had desperately searched the community for the child,
enlisting a number of elves to her cause. The little girl had an almost elvish
ability to remain hidden and it was more than frustrating to a Ranger of her
skill to be unable to discern where the child had taken refuge. Melia was under
no illusions as to why Anna would behave in such a fashion, not when the same
enemies who had ruthlessly murdered her family and her entire village were
close to wreaking the same destruction upon the Eden Ardhon. The little
girl probably thought that she was safer finding her own hiding place then any
that could be found by an adult.
After all, it had served her well enough before.
“I cannot find her!” Melia told Miriel
and
“She must have hidden in the woods,” Miriel declared,
sweeping her gaze across the length and breadth of Eden Ardhon, as if this
effort would be more successful than the last dozen attempts. “We may have to
widen our search to the forests.”
“I do not know if that is wise,”
Melia took a deep breath, debating what to do. Part
of her was torn by her responsibility to Miriel,
However, she was also wife to Legolas Greenleaf, Lord
of Eden Ardhon and in his stead, she would have to do what was best for the all
despite her need to save the one.
“We have to find shelter. The trees are our best
recourse at the moment,” Melia swallowed thickly, making the anguished decision
she prayed she would not face. “We must ensure that we are hidden before the
enemy arrives.”
”Do you think they will breach out defences?”
“Almost certainly,” Melia nodded grimly, reaching for
a bolt from her crossbow and promptly arming the weapon. “Our warriors
may be able to slow down the Easterlings but they will not stop them.
Their numbers are to great in warriors and in mumakils.”
“What about Anna?” Miriel asked, staring at her.
“I will find her after you are all safe,” Melia
answered while trying to hide just how much she loathed making the choice to
abandon her search for the child for now.
Miriel’s expressions softened, showing Melia sympathy but the
Ranger would have none of it. Instead, Melia directed her attention
to gathering the remaining populace of Eden Ardhon in order to find safe hiding
places for them. The enemy was closing in from all directions and while the
elves knew the woods well, they could not hide indefinitely from the warriors
and beasts flooding the forests.
“We go to the river,” Melia suggested as she led a
large group of women towards the River Poros. “I know
we cannot sail away but those who can, should try and swim across. The waters
of Poros may be deep enough for the mumakils to
avoid. These beasts can swim but it will make ferrying warriors across
difficult and that is a disadvantage we dare not ignore.”
The Poros was a deep river
with strong currents. Part of the reason Legolas established his colony here
was due to the proximity of the River Poros. The Poros was deep enough for ships to sail its waters and its
path took it to the Anduin and to the sea. To the elves for whom the call of
the sea was strong; access to it was an absolute necessity. When it came
time for Eden Ardhon to see the departure of the elves, it would be from here
that they would sail to the Undying Lands in their grey ships.
Melia did not like the idea of anyone trying to swim across
but it was risk some of them had to take. She knew her people better than
anyone present despite their long spanning existence. She knew that Easterlings
could be brutal and if she did not succeed in sending away as many as possible
to safety, then Lebethron’s fate would truly be their
own. Reaching the waters of the Poros, the
river was surging ahead with its usual vigour. The Poros
saw its origins in the mountains of Ephel Duath and built the strength of its flow from those lofty
heights.
“It is too strong!”
“Some of us have to try!” Melia returned, addressing
all the women present. “Those of you who think you can make it across, do so.
The current being what it is ensures that the mumakils will be reluctant to
follow. However, their size may make up for that advantage.”
“Look!” Miriel shouted, capturing their attention
immediately.
Melia turned around and saw what Miriel was pointing at
with such fear. Columns of smoke were rising into the afternoon sky. Thick,
black columns were maligning the blue sky and tainting the air with the stench
of cinders. The elven ladies watched this destruction with horror as did the
wife of their lord, who knew at that moment how determined the enemy was to
ensure that none of them escaped.
“They’re burning the forests!” Someone shouted.
“They’re going to raze it about our ears!”
Unfortunately, there was little Melia could say to
refute this statement because it appeared that was the truth. The Easterlings
had considered their prey well and knew that the trees would offer the elves
protection if they were forced to fight. With a ring of flame surrounding them
on all directions, they would be herded against the river, penned with a wall
of water behind them.
“Swim!” Melia turned around
and barked furiously. “Those who can make it, go now!”
Her sharp demand sent a few women, including
“You should go,” Miriel remarked as Melia turned on
her heels and started down the path towards the woods once again.
“I cannot,” Melia frowned and noted that the others
were following her. Her thoughts were racing because she did not know what else
to do. No doubt the elven warriors had difficulties enough battling the
rampaging forces closing in Eden Ardhon without the added worry that a gaggle
of women were still trapped with no means of escape.
“You are Lord Legolas’ wife,” Miriel said firmly, “you
should think to your own safety!”
“I cannot!” Melia returned sharply. “I cannot swim!”
“What?” Miriel stared at her
in disbelief. For a human, Melia was one of the most capable people that Miriel
had ever met. Despite her short life, the Ranger who had captured the heart of
Legolas Greenleaf was one of the most experienced people she knew and commanded
respect from those who knew her, even if they had first deemed her unworthy of
their prince. “How is it you cannot swim?”
“I come from the Sunlands where water is not entirely
available in large enough quantities. What there is, we use to bathe and drink.
To use water as a form of recreation is wasteful. So I never learnt,”
Melia frowned, remembering how she had been forced to break that bit of news to
Legolas the first time.
“That is unfortunate,” Miriel frowned, still rather surprised
that Melia was incapable such a simple thing. “It appears we are going to have
to fight if we cannot leave here.”
“I refuse to believe that,” Melia declared and thought
quickly. There had to be a way to remain safe. Eden Ardhon was not forests and
trees. She thought quickly of all the maps that had been charted, the paths
that she had committed to memory out of sheer habit when the forests was being
surveyed. She remembered the winding paths, the glen of great oaks, and
the meandering streams that saw its life from the Poros.
There had to be something in the wilderness that could offer her a refuge!
“Wait,” Melia de when it
suddenly came upon her, a slim hope at best but it was better than nothing.
“Did not Gimli say that there was a quarry of rocks nearby when we were
building the gathering hall?”
“Yes,” Miriel nodded
remembering the fanfare it had required to move the stone slabs to Eden Ardhon.
“But it is hardly a quarry, more a collection of large rocks. I do not even
think that there are caves there.”
“It is better than nothing!” Melia declared seeing
some light at the end of their dark tunnel of circumstance. “Come everyone!
Follow me, we go westward!”
There was little choice but to latch upon this slim
hope and Melia hoped that it would provide enough them with enough shelter for
her to decide what they had to do next. The path back to the quarry required
their journey through Eden Ardhon and Melia hoped the enemy was still being
kept at bay. Smoke was so thick in the air that it was difficult to see
anything with clarity as clouds of grey drifted past them with its noxious
fumes. A poisonous fog of ash had settled over the colony and though the
forests were far from being completely engulfed in flame, the damage was
starting to become noticeable.
They were moving through the buildings when Melia
noticed the elves stiffening in fear. Most of the womenfolk were armed although
not many could wield a weapon with great skill. Elven women rarely found
themselves in a position of vulnerability and only a handful ever learnt how to
further their ability to fight. Arwen had been one of these exceptions because
she had grown up with the spectre of Celebrian’s
abduction by orcs. The queen of Gondor had sworn that
she would never be so vulnerable and had with Legolas’ aid taught herself to
fight though initially it was a matter of great consternation to her father.
More than anything, Melia wished Arwen were here. The Evenstar had more than
skill at her disposal, she had a sharpness of mind that Melia felt was sorely
needed at this moment.
Melia knew how to fend for herself, not for a whole.
“What is it?” Melia asked, though she had an idea what
it was that had captured the elven women’s attentions so completely.
“We are not alone,” Miriel whispered, drawing a dagger
from the belted sheath around her waist.
“Everyone stay close!” Melia ordered.
A blanket of silence fell over them that seemed to
drown the cackling of the fires in the distance, the thunderous approach of the
mumakils and the voices of men and elves battling fiercely for this smoke
filled domain. The elven women were deathly afraid, she could see it in
their eyes and while she possessed none of their senses, she could feel the
reason for this anxiety. It was pressing up against them like the walls
of a cage, trapping them.
The Easterlings were in Eden Ardhon.
When they came out of the smoke, there were so many
that Melia could not keep track of them. She reacted immediately, amidst the
screams of fear as the Easterling warriors closed in on the women of Eden
Ardhon. Melia aimed her crossbow at the enemy and began releasing steel bolts
through the air with more speed than she thought herself capable. She saw one
elven woman being attacked, Nóriëinya, Melia recalled briefly before she sent a bolt from her
crossbow straight into the skull of Nóriëinya’s
attacker. The maid squealed in fright as blood splattered over her but her
cries were cut short when one of her more sensible sisters grabbed her hand and
dragged her away from danger. Melia loss sight of them when she saw something
approach from the corner of her eye and dealt with it.
However as she staved off one attacker, she could hear
the screams of her companions who were not so successful. Miriel was slashing
wildly with her dagger at an Easterling warrior and Melia was almost ready to
believe that she was safe when another reached out of the fog behind the elven
women and grabbed the arm holding the offensive weapon. Once trapped,
Melia could only watch helplessly as the other Easterling struck the elven maid
hard, knocking her almost unconscious.
“Miriel!” Melia shouted and prepared to shoot when she felt something
slam into her shoulder. The pain was beyond belief as the arrow speared the
space where her arm met her body. Melia staggered, unable to hold her crossbow
with the strength she needed. The archer of this attack soon made his
appearance and though she appeared weakened, Melia was far from helpless.
Kicking her foot out, she connected with his knee and brought him to the
ground. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she swung the crossbow against his
face, ensuring there was enough force behind the weapon to shatter bone. He
felt backwards bleeding and Melia finished him off swiftly by impaling him
through the chest with a bolt still waiting to be ejected.
When she looked up, she could no longer see Miriel but
she could hear the screaming. The terrible screams, full of pain, despair and
anguish as the women who had been subdued were forced to endure a torture far
worse than any death.
“Miriel!” Melia screamed again, tears running down her face because
the smoke was so thick, she could see little ahead of her and losing sight of
her companions now held the worse possibilities. Miriel did not answer
her but Melia could hear her cries.
Suddenly, something else caught Melia’s attention far
more acutely than the horrific screams of her violated companions. A sharp,
shrill cry that could only come from one person in all of Eden Ardhon.
Bleeding and in pain, Melia forced herself to pick up her crossbow as she ran
towards the direction of the helpless screams. It was easy to distinguish
the terrified cried amidst of so many others because Melia knew the difference
between them. She ran forward, blood still frothing from her wounded shoulder,
the arrow cutting deeper into her flesh with every step she took. Its intensity
forced her to grit her teeth and ignore the agony of it because the screaming
did not abate but grew more frantic and desperate.
“Anna!” Melia cried out when
she saw the young girl being dragged out of her secret hiding place by an
Easterling warrior. She had crawled into the hollow of one of the large trees
and had remained there as she had done so when Lebethron had been attacked and
destroyed. Anna had probably thought that the same hiding place would
suffice this instance. Perhaps it was the smoke that had forced her to give
herself away, Melia could not be certain but it was enough for the Easterling
warrior to notice the child and take to pulling her out of her hiding place by
the legs.
“LET HER GO!” Melia ran straight into him and send him
sprawling. He tumbled away like a loose rock tumbling down the side of a
hill. Briefly, Melia turned to Anna who was still trembling in fright
from her ordeal and hissed sharply, “Anna! Run!”
Anna nodded wildly and bolted from the tree,
determined to do as she asked. The little girl cast a glimpse over her
shoulder to catch sigh of the woman who had saved her life when suddenly, she
ran straight into someone else. Anna froze and looked up, seeing the Easterling
warrior, his body covered in armour staring down at her through the eye slit in
his faceplate. She recoiled almost instantly butt thick, gloved hands
clamped around her arms.
“Melia!” Anna squealed in
terror when she realised that the Easterling grip around her was firm and that
she would not be able to escape him.
Everything seemed to slow for Melia at that instant.
The rising smoke, the clouds of grey rolling around her and above them. Only
some things were clear in the vagueness of grey, the stinging smoke was
not. The screams of everyone else faded away, the pain in her arm was
forgotten and the weapon in her hand, useless when the last of her bolts had
been exhausted.
What was clear was Anna in the hands of the
Easterling. Anna whose eyes were wide with terror, pleading at her to help. The
Easterling’s gloved hands shifted position with an
intent Melia knew all too well. A hand travelled across the little girl’s
chest, holding her to him across the breastbone and the other hand that dug its
fingers into her skull, past the hair until the grip was firm and final.
“Don’t!” Melia pleaded
meeting his eyes and begging with that one word.
Melia saw his eyes narrow and knew that he had not heard.
The child’s neck snapped cleanly in his grip, bone breaking so hard and fast
that Anna probably never knew what had happened and she went slack where she
stood. The Easterling released her then, allowing her small body to fall upon
the ground, proving once and for all that no one survived the massacre of
Lebethron, even days after the fact.
Melia may have screamed. She did not know, nor would she
have had chance to remember because she was tackled to the ground almost
immediately after her soul had died a little watching Anna’s life squandered
away so brutally. The Easterling murderer, Melia could not call him a
warrior after what she had witnessed, the one who had found Anna in her hiding
place, had barrelled into her and knocked the Ranger off her feet. Melia rolled
across the ground, snapping the arrow embedded in her shoulder and driving the
point deeper into her flesh with such excruciating agony, she could do little
but scream.
When he raised himself to throw a punch in her face,
Melia kicked out her foot and connected with the side of his body, causing him
to stagger slightly on his knees and give her time to straighten up
herself. She struggled to an upright position and threw a fist in his
face as her crossbow was no longer in her grip. He reeled but slightly and
threw his out his own fist but did not strike her. Instead, he grabbed a hold
of the jagged shaft of the arrow and twisted hard. Melia screamed involuntarily
but earned another blow across the cheek for her trouble. This one, which she
was completely unprepared for, dropped her back on the ground.
She recovered just enough to see another shadow
towering over her and realised that Anna’s murderer stood over her. She
tried to move but she was not quick enough and his boot met her side, breaking
ribs in the process. Melia cried out again, hating her weakness, hating the
outcome she could see in his eyes. The screams of the others were surfacing in
her consciousness again and as another boot landed in her stomach and the
pummelling fists of both warriors reduced whatever resistance she had into a
bloody mess of bruised flesh, Melia knew a worst indignity was yet to be
visited upon her.
She stopped looking at them when the pain became to
great because her eyes were fixed upon Anna, who lay not far from where she was
about to be defiled, the child’s sightless eyes staring at her. Melia wept and
though her attackers may have been forgiven into thinking that her tears were
born out of their violation of her body, in truth she was weeping for the child
she could not save. A part of Melia’s mind closed itself to the physical horror
her body was enduring and wrapped itself around the guilt of failing Lebethron’s last survivor.
It was difficult to say which was worse.
**************
Preoccupied by the battle with the Easterlings, the
elves of Eden Ardhon remained unaware of what was taking place within the
colony itself. Fire was raging through the forests with unabated
ferocity, and there came a time when the defenders considered that it may
become necessary to abandon the wood altogether and do the unthinkable, flee.
However, elves were a hardy lot and they managed to throw a formidable defence
despite their numbers. They were aided by skill and artful cunning that cost
their enemies a sizeable portion of their number. They used what natural
advantage they had to kill as many of the mumakils as possible and force their
enemies to the ground.
At least five of the great beasts were felled, killed
by arrows piercing their most vulnerable places, the mouth, the eyes and the
ears. A phalanx of arrows had to be deployed to bring down one of these
formidable war oliphants but the elves were
determined and a race who had been alive when Balrogs terrified the earth would
not shirk facing the less fearsome beasts. The fires disadvantaged them
of course, forcing the elves to fight in a confined area but after awhile, the
Eldar learnt how to use the flames to their advantage for they had better
endurance to smoke and fire then a human. In the end, their stamina was as much
a deciding factor in the Easterling retreat as their well-aimed arrows.
However, it appeared fortune was with them in some
small fashion because grey clouds of rain soon joined the clouds of grey smoke.
Although the preceding wind whipped the fires into a frenzy for a brief time,
the rain that came down soon after quashed it completely. A storm that
could have been sent by Manwe himself, quickly
stamped out the fires surrounding Eden Ardhon and spared its forest from any
greater destruction. With the cleansing rain, the elves spirits were
somewhat raised though they sensed some deep dread they could not yet address
because of their present peril.
The Easterlings too, realised that they could not
afford to linger and in truth, they need not do so. Their intention was to show
the elves how vulnerable they were and in the ravaging of
***************
It was a drop of water on her cheek that reminded
Melia that she was alive.
Until then, she had been lying where they left her,
the pain from a dozen wounds suffusing into one black pit of despair. Her
skin was bare in places, she could feel the cool air against her shoulders,
around her thighs but she did not wish to open her eyes. Not that she wanted
to. Her eyelids were difficult to open. If anyone had been there to describe
her appearance to her, Melia might have understood why. She could feel
the swell of blood in at least one of them but the dull throbbing of her jaw
and her head made it very difficult to care.
By the time the water had evolved from droplets to a
teeming shower and finally to a fully fledged downpour of rain, Melia could no
longer take refuge in the blackness of her unconscious state. The water’s
insidious invasion brought coherence to her mind and the fluid stung painfully
the wounds across her body. The most brutal pain was the one she did not wish
to think about, even though it made itself felt most acutely each time she
moved. It felt as if she were torn apart inside and while she knew that her
injury was nowhere as grievous as it could be, the world still felt as if it
had ended for her.
When she opened her eyes as best as she could, Melia
saw nothing but pouring rain descending from a grey sky. She felt the
water penetrate her clothes, and knew that it would not be enough to wash away
the stench she could still feel against her skin. She could still smell them.
Through the rain and blood, she could still smell their stink upon her.
The memory of them surfaced so quickly and savagely for an instant that Melia
felt her stomach clench into a fist. It was the pain that kept her from
doubling over and retching. She looked at her shoulder and saw the arrow still
embedded in her flesh but the pain of it had dulled. It was her broken arm and
ribs that took most of her attention. Melia could taste blood in her mouth but
she did not know if that was from her split lips or the gash bleeding down her
cheek.
She rolled over onto her stomach and immediately
groaned at the pain that arose from that action. Closing her eyes, she forced
it away though not very well because she was still gasping with every movement.
The lower half of her body ached whether or not she moved and once again, Melia
was compelled to force away the memory of what caused it. Somehow, she managed
to pull herself to her knees and with one hand covered the parts of her that
had been exposed by the Easterlings during the ordeal at their hands.
Breathing was hard. Her chest felt heavy and when she remembered that it had to
do with being held down by the neck during the point of penetration, the memory
forced another surge of bile to rise up in her throat.
When she saw Anna, all that was forgotten.
Melia crawled forward, ignoring the pain that coursed
through her body as she made her way to the child’s side. In death, Anna
appeared peaceful, the only sign of violence being the terrible ring of purple
flesh around her throat. Her eyes still stared into nothingness and Melia
wondered if the last thing she had seen was Melia’s inability to help her. What
had she felt at that moment knowing that she was going to die? Did she know that
it would end that way or was fear all she felt? Melia supposed she would never
know and brushed her palm across the girl’s eyes, closing them at last.
For a moment, the lady of Eden Ardhon did nothing but
kneel before the dead child. Staring at this poor life that fate had decreed
would never see past this day. Melia had felt a little part of her die when
Anna’s life was taken from her and knew that every day from this one forward,
she would never be truly free of that image. Her shoulders shook when the first
sobs escaped her and it was not long before she was crying so hard that it felt
as if she might break into a thousand pieces. She had not wept in this
way since she was forced to tell Legolas to kill her mother after the insidious
spell by the Istar Alatar
had turned Ninuie into a monster. Yet this felt
worse, a thousand times worse.
“I am sorry,” Melia whispered through her tears. “I
failed you little one. I failed you.”
Anna was in no position to refute the statement and
Melia had little strength to do nothing but kneel there in the rain, wondering
why she should have survived when she had failed to protect this child. Why did
she deserve life? It was a question Melia did not have long to ponder
because she saw Miriel walking past her in the distance. Until now, Melia had
not taken too much stock of her surroundings. Grief had shrunk her perception
of things to the child that was lying on the ground before her. She had not
noticed anything else.
Some of Eden Ardhon was burned away but a good deal
remained intact. It was the woods that had suffered the worst of the fire but
rain had quenched this angry demon before too much was destroyed irrevocably.
Trunks still stood tall and proud and the nurturing touch of elves would ensure
the promise of life returning to their aged limbs and branches. It was
fortunate that time was capable of healing some things with ease and others,
not at all. As she swept her gaze over the ruined parts of Eden Ardhon, she
supposed that in time the destruction of this dark day could be forgotten in
time. However, the injury done to the people who dwelt within the colony was
another thing entirely.
Even though she would have been quite content to
remain where she was, allowing her misery to soak her up whole, something
compelled Melia to her feet. She wiped the blood from her mouth and tried
to take a step forward, the pain spearing through her as she made the effort.
Drawing a deep breath, Melia needed to steady herself and accustomed her body
to the exertion of moving.
”Miriel!” She cried out but
the elven maid showed no indication that she had heard Melia’s call. As
Miriel moved out of sight, Melia saw the blood that stained the white of her
dress and the torn sleeves. The lady’s remarkable golden hair was tangled and her
fair flesh was smeared with dirt. She walked not with her head held high but
like a wraith compelled to walk in a place it had once done in life.
“Miriel! Stop!” Melia tried again to no avail.
Concern compelled her forward and Melia fought against
the pain as she followed Miriel through Eden Ardhon. Through the rain she could
hear the weeping of others and knew that she was not alone in her ordeal. They
too wore expressions of desolation and while Melia wanted to comfort them,
something compelled her to keep after Miriel. None however, struck Melia’s
heart with as much anxiety as seeing Miriel drift past everything as if it were
not there. Melia soon realised that calling to Miriel would not halt the
lady’s progress and the only thing to do was to follow her to her destination.
It was difficult to keep walking for Melia knew she
was losing blood from her injured shoulder. She was light headed and becoming
shorter of breath but she had to continue moving. Anna’s death was a crushing
weight upon her soul and she knew that if she allowed Miriel to get past her,
she would regret it as much. After some time, it was not difficult to discern
where Miriel was headed and the realisation made her hastened her pace even
more.
The Poros’ rushing waters
could be heard as Melia lost sight of Miriel when she cleared the trees before
the shore of the embankment. Melia quickened her step, uttering a soft wince of
pain because the insides of her body felt as if it had been rubbed raw. Tears
ran down her cheeks as she controlled the pain of not only her violation but
also the broken arm she was clutching limply to her side and the jagged bones
of ribs protruding deeper into her organs. Brushing past the branches that
shook as she emerged, Melia’s breath caught when she saw Miriel wading towards
the shore.
“Miriel no!” Melia exclaimed
and broke into a run, her whole body heaving in collective protest as the
Ranger forced herself forward.
The elven maid waded into the great river, her dress
immediately rising up around her body, carried by the water swirling about
her. Miriel seemed not to notice and continued this march, not even when
Melia waded in after. Her hair began to splay out the farther out she went and
Melia knew that if she did not reach her soon, the Ranger would not have the
strength to drag her out of the river against the power of the current. It did
not even occur to Melia that she could not swim and if they were swept too far
out, she would drown far quicker than Miriel could manage.
“Stop!” Melia finally grabbed
her arm in water that was shoulder deep. “What are you doing?”
“Leave me be!” Miriel cried out. “I cannot live with
this shame!”
“This shame is upon all of us!” Melia declared, refusing
to let go and tried hard to pull Miriel back before both of them were
imperilled. Unfortunately, this was not easy to do when one was injured and the
other was an elf determined to die. “You are not the only one who suffered this
disgrace but to end your life is to give them even more power over you! They
will kill you without even needing to draw the sword!”
“I cannot bear it!” Miriel wailed in anguish, her face
streaked with tears. “I smell him on my flesh. His stench is branded into my
soul! I cannot live with this stain upon my honour!”
“I will not let you kill yourself!” Melia shouted in
fury. “Not you or anyone else! You think I cannot smell what was done to me?
You think my senses are any less because I am human! I could retch thinking
what has happened but I will not allow them to win this way! Why do you think
they use us in this manner! Not for their pleasure but to break our men!
This is not because of us! This is to break the spirit of the men who care for
us, a testimony to how they will always be less because they failed to protect
us!”
“I do not care!” Miriel wept. “I want to die. I do not
want to live with this shame! It will curse me for all time and I cannot bear
it! He took so much pleasure in what he did! I heard his cruel words! I shall
not forget it even if I go to the Undying Lands.”
“At least he was one!” Melia retaliated, her own
emotions unleashed. It was like a dam inside of her, even worse than when she
had knelt at the child’s dead body and wept. Then it had been merely tears,
this was guilt and black despair, far worse than any physical violation could
ever be. “I have been used by both and if that were not enough, one of them
killed Anna! Murdered her right in front of my eyes. This child that I was
supposed to protect! She looked to me to keep her safe and I promised her
I would! I did nothing of the kind! I failed her! I failed her so completely
and they took her from me! A child!”
Melia’s grip upon Miriel slackened
and her whole being seemed to lose its strength for she shook where stood in
the water, body wracked with large sobs that shuddered every fibre of her
being. She looked away then, feeling her spirit bleed out of her like the
blood oozing from her shoulder.
“Anna is dead?” Miriel looked at her, eyes filled with
sorrow for suddenly, something far worse than her own wretched state penetrated
her heart.
“Yes,” Melia nodded weeping,
barely able to say more than that for her sobs. “I failed her, Miriel! I swore
I would guard her, I promised to keep her safe and yet I failed her.” Melia’s
voice broke completely with that tormented confession.
Miriel saw Melia’s profound grief
so much like her own and suddenly felt that despite her despair, she pitied
this human who had become her friend since her arrival. The power to feel
sympathy and empathy for Melia’s sorrow and her ordeal allowed Miriel to gain
some strength of her own. If a human could prevail in light of such terrible
guilt added to the burden of the horror they had both endured, then an elf
should be able to endure as well.
She did not know if this new found resolve would
endure past the moment but Miriel supposed that it would be a coward’s way not
to even try. Taking Melia’s uninjured arm, the elven maid led the broken
Lady of Eden Ardhon back to shore with the hope that perhaps their solidarity
in pain might be able to mend them both someday.