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.