Chapter Nine

Why can’t he see? I merely want to borrow It! Gondor will fall without aid, and this shall be our aid! If I have It, I can bring Gondor back from ruin; I can prove myself to father… I could become greater than Isildur ever was. Why won’t he just give It to me?!

(If he won’t give it to you, then take it)

But… I swore to protect him…

(And you were born to protect Gondor. Which is more important, one halfling or your city and the entire race of Men?)

Do I have to kill him?

(Yes. If you don’t, he will tell Aragorn, Aragorn who thinks he will one day rule Gondor, Aragorn who is Isildur’s heir. And then Aragorn will kill you.)

But Frodo…

(take it)

It’s Frodo, though…

(Take It)

But…

(TAKE IT YOU FOOL! TAKE IT! TAKE IT AND KILL HIM!!)

***

Corwyn sat bolt upright in her bed, her breath heaving. She glanced around tensely, regaining her sense of where she actually was, who she actually was.

Once her breathing was under control, she tried to remember her dream. She remembered seeing Frodo… and the inner battle. Oh! That little voice that had started out so small and had eventually bored a hole into her, cracking her in two! She remembered the struggle for her own sanity, and shivered.

Only, she hadn’t been herself. She thought hard. Who had she been? It seemed utterly important that she find out. But even as she strived to remember, her eyes closed and she fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

***

Haldir rolled over in his sleep. He was dreaming something really odd. He was seeing from the eyes of somebody other than himself, and that somebody was looking at Boromir. He could feel a cold terror sweep his dream body, but it was such that he could not move, not even when Boromir, looking decidedly unlike himself, dove at him.

But unlike Corwyn, Haldir did not wake up filled with panic. Instead, he shifted peacefully into another dream.

***

“But Miss Corwyn, if stealing is wrong, then why were Beren and Lúthien not punished for stealing back one of the Silmarils from Morgoth?”

Corwyn looked at the silver haired child who had asked her the question, then she looked out the window at the sun. She cursed inwardly. She would be late if she took the time to answer the question in full… she had known she shouldn’t have told the Quenta Silmarilion to this group, for they always came up with questions.

“Well, Finar,” she began, trying to rush through an explanation, “It really wasn’t stealing, it was recovering, as Melkor was the one who stole the Great Jewels.”

The boy shook his head. “But you said that two of Feanor’s sons, Maedhros and Maglor, who stole the jewels from the camp of the Valar after they had been recovered were driven to madness. So why weren’t Beren and Lúthien given the same fate?”

Corwyn looked at Finar, and the others who were gazing at her questioningly. She tried to keep calm. “Okay, listen closely, Beren and Lúthien did a good deed. It was not stealing. Melkor was the thief; recovering what was rightfully the property of the Elves was not bad, it was heroic. That is why Beren and Lúthien are held in high regards.”

“But,” a young elven girl started to say.

“All right, lessons are shortened today!” Corwyn exclaimed, cutting the girl off. “If there are any questions we’ll clear them up the next time we meet! Or better yet, go ask the Lord and Lady, I’m sure they’d love to go on about Fëanor and the Silmarils.” She paused and the children all looked up at her, unmoving. She made a shooing motion with her hands. “You’re all dismissed! Go, go!”

The little Elven children looked at each other, shrugged, and rose, forgetting all about the morals of Beren and Lúthien.

Corwyn sighed a sigh of pure relief, then glanced out the window again.

“I am going to be incredibly late!” she muttered, grabbing a cloak off her wall and hurrying down the large mallorn steps. Once she reached the bottom she picked up a swift run, and still worrying about the time, made her way into the forest.

***

Shadows from the trees dappled the ground, which, as she neared her destination, grew thicker and thicker with the star-shaped yellow elanor and white niphredil blossoms. She didn’t slow her pace as she came to the foot of a gently rolling hill. She climbed it steadily, and when she reached the top, a familiar arrogant (though admittedly well-loved) voice greeted her.

“Nice of you to finally come, Corwyn. I’ve only been waiting a half hour.”

“Well… I came… as soon… as I could… those children… ask a lot… of questions…” Corwyn answered, leaning against one of the small trees that stood on the summit of Cerin Amroth in order to catch her breath.

Haldir, who was lounging quite comfortably in a shaft of sunlight on the soft flower-and-grass-covered hill, suppressed a smile. “Well you should tell the little brats that you have more important things to do than tell them stories. My time is valuable, you know.”

Corwyn had to look at him a moment or two with her most scrutinizing of gazes to figure out whether he was kidding or not. When he cracked the slightest of smiles she threw her hands up in the air and went over beside him, sitting down on the ground.

“Remind me again why I deal with you? I seem to have forgotten…”

Haldir plucked a perfectly shaped niphredil from the ground and placed it in Corwyn’s hair, behind her ear. “Because sometimes, and only sometimes mind you, I do things like that.”

Corwyn laughed and collected an elanor, putting it in Haldir’s hair and making him look quite feminine. She giggled wildly as gave her a dry look and took the blossom out.

“How childish,” he said, hiding a smile and shaking his head.

Corwyn grinned and threw her arms around his neck. “Go kiss an orc,” she said to him. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She dropped her mouth open in feigned outrage. “I can deal with being childish, Haldir of Lorien,” she said, “But to be called an orc, well, that’s too much!”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” he asked.

Corwyn sighed and lied down on her back, looking up at the sky. “Just lie here and take it, I suppose.”

Haldir smiled and lay down beside her, staring into the sky as well. Coming to Cerin Amroth never failed to make him happy. He didn’t know exactly why.

If he chose to believe the old tales, it was because Amroth, the Elven-king who had made his home on this hill, had enchanted it, but he didn’t. He just figured it was because this was one of the only places he could get away from everything.

But somehow today he couldn’t shake his foreboding feelings. “It’s hard to believe that horrible things are probably happening right now, isn’t it?” he asked.

He heard Corwyn sigh noisily. “Do you never stop worrying?” she teased, “It seems all you do is go on about evil!”

“That’s only because there’s so much of it. Come on Corwyn, Gandalf has fallen, Saruman is a traitor, the ringwraiths are loose, Sauron is calling armies to him to prepare for war, there are rumors about a new breed of orcs that are not only stronger, but can travel in the daytime, and the Fellowship has probably failed by now and are all dead. If I can’t be depressed over all that, what can I be depressed about? And it’s not like evil takes a break. Can you really imagine Sauron at the seaside?”

“I’ve always thought he was more of a hiking type, myself,” Corwyn replied with a grin. “Honestly though, Haldir, you just need to let go, if even for one minute. There is no reason to worry about things until they are staring you in the face. You just need to enjoy life for a moment.”

“I might be able to forget everything, except for the Fellowship. I keep remembering Boromir, for some reason.” He shook his head. “If anything I should be thinking about Legolas, right?”

“Ha-ha,” Corwyn answered, rolling her eyes. But then, all of a sudden, she remembered her dream from the night before.

She sat upright, and then scrambled to her feet. Haldir sat up. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Boromir, Haldir!! Boromir!” she cried. “That’s it! You figured it out! Oh, oh, we have to go to Galadriel… now!” She gathered up her dress and began to dash down the hill.

“What? Why?” Haldir called after her, puzzled.

She turned around for a moment. “Boromir! He’s going to try and take the Ring!”

Haldir stood up and sighed. All this from the elf who told me to stop worrying, he mused to himself. He made his way slowly down Cerin Amroth, and at the bottom he stooped down and picked up the snow-white niphredil blossom that had fallen out of Corwyn’s hair.

***

Lord Celeborn was talking with one of his aids when Corwyn, her eyes wide and filled with a wild look, came running in.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m sorry, but Lord Celeborn, I need to see Lady Galadriel!”

Celeborn’s aid eyed Corwyn warily, but the Lord just pointed. “I believe she might be down by the Mirror, Corwyn. But why…”

“Thank you!” Corwyn cried, turning around and dashing back out the door. The aid regarded Celeborn questioningly.

“Knowledge keeper, you know how they are,” Celeborn explained to his aid, who nodded as though all the secrets of the world had just been revealed.

***

He fell, just as she knew he would. Temptation overtook him and he fell. Frodo escaped, but barely, followed by Sam. She smiled. That little Sam. So brave, so loyal. But even though the two had escaped, there were the rest to think of. She saw the battle, the new orcs, Uruk-hai they were called, falling to the blade, arrows, and axe of the remaining Fellowship. But they could not save the two other little ones. She saw them taken captive, and she saw the fallen Boromir’s last attempt to save them. But they were taken. She could see ahead as well, Saruman the White, the traitor, sending his armies out to Rohan. It would be ten thousand against a few hundreds. The Rohirrim might not win. Unless…

“Lady Galadriel!”

Galadriel looked up from the pool of water. Corwyn. And she looked panicky. “What is it, my dear?”

“I had dreams, and Boromir, he’s going to try and take the Ring from Frodo! My Lady, we cannot let that happen! He’s going to kill Fro—” Corwyn stopped mid-sentence when Galadriel raised a hand.

“I know, Corwyn. It has already happened.”

“He has the Ring? Is Frodo dead?” Corwyn asked, fear taking her heart.

“No, no. He tried, Corwyn. But Frodo escaped. Frodo has now left the Fellowship, and Sam travels with him. They went their separate path last evening.”

“What of the rest, then?”

“The new breed of orc, Uruk-hai, they came and found the Fellowship, under orders by Saruman to capture the hobbits. Merry and Pippin were taken.” Corwyn gasped and had to grab onto the stone pillar beside her for support. “In the battle that ensued, Boromir fell while trying to protect the hobbits. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, now on their own, are tracking the band, which is heading into Rohan. The Fellowship has been broken.”

“Will Aragorn find them? Will Merry and Pippin be killed?”

Galadriel shook her head. “I cannot see that. But death will come to many, Saruman is building up an army for war.”

“War with who?” Corwyn hated asking so many questions, but she had been filled with the most horrible sense of dread.

(Haldir will die)

But she could not place her finger upon it.

“Men. The Rohirrim.”

Corwyn didn’t respond. She just nodded and turned around, heading away from the basin. She turned about halfway up the steps and looked at Galadriel. “Why do I feel as though I stand near death?”

Galadriel did not meet her eyes. “Go, Corwyn daughter of Celedaner. Go be at ease.”

Corwyn headed back up the steps slowly and walked to her telain, her mind brimming with all the horrible things she had just heard. She stepped inside and barely made it to a chair before she put her head down and cried. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, reassuring and strong, she didn’t have to look up to see who it was.

***

“The time of the Elves is ending, Galadriel, ending with the beginning of Men. We should all leave for the Havens.”

“If we leave, the time of Men will not have a chance to begin. You have seen the battle; you know what will happen. If we leave the Men then evil will destroy them.”

“Let it.”

“Elrond, you are bitter because of your daughter, but do not let that affect you now!”

“I am not bitter because of Arwen! I am bitter because of Isildur! The Last Alliance should have been the last! But evil was allowed to continue, to thrive, the Ring was kept!! Men are weak and corrupted, if they are destroyed then all the better!”

“Gil-galad didn’t think so, and you didn’t, either, at one time. You and our kind fought beside and died beside Men… all to battle Sauron. Will you now leave them, abandon them, in the time when they need us the most? Will you leave Middle-earth to its fate?”

Elrond didn’t respond. He was communicating with Galadriel through the power of their rings, his own, Vilya, and hers, Nenya. He knew what she wanted.

She had foreseen what would happen at Helm’s Deep and wanted to send Elves to assist. Elrond had seen it, as well. He saw the men fall, old and young, and then the women and children taken, beaten, slaughtered.

But old grudges die hard, and if there was one thing that Lord Elrond, ruler of Rivendell held a grudge against, it was Men.

“I don’t know, Galadriel,” he answered. “I just don’t know.”

With that he turned and began to walk. Whenever he had found himself troubled, all he had to do was walk around Rivendell. He took in the beauty and peace of his home. The old, smooth stone, the twisting and beautiful arches, richly carved wooden beams, and the murals. He smiled softly as he surveyed the paintings. The eyes of the Elven-kings of old looked down upon and he stopped at the one of Gil-galad. He bowed his head.
“What should I do, my Lord?” he asked quietly. “I just don’t know.”

But the painting didn’t answer. Elrond sighed and turned away, walking onwards.

In time he came to his library and study. He walked inside and was about to head to the balcony when he saw another painting. He looked at it.

On the wall, forever immortalized, was the image of Isildur. He was lying on the ground, the broken shard of Narsil raised in one hand, the other arm pushing him up from the ground to face the monstrous black shape of Sauron. You couldn’t make out much about the Dark Lord from the mural, but you could see one heavily armored fist clutched around a sword, and one golden ring around a thick finger. In his mind’s eye, Elrond saw the painted Isildur take a blind swing at the figure in from of him. He knew death was coming, but chose to fight to the end… like all the Men, and Elves, who died that day. But his swing hit a mark, Sauron’s hand. And even though his sword was but a fragment, it cut off the ring-bearing finger. Sauron fell into a shadow of himself, the Last Alliance ended.

And suddenly Galadriel’s voice filled Elrond’s mind. Will you now leave them, abandon them, in the time when they need us the most? Will you leave Middle-earth to its fate?

Elrond blinked and looked away, his face neutral. But as he moved out of the doorway he stepped with more conviction than before, and into the darkness called, “Erestor!”

Within moments a dark haired elf, the head of Elrond’s household, appeared. “Yes, my Lord?” he asked.

“Gather what is left of our archers. We will be sending them to Lorien.”

“My lord?”

Elrond stared, his eyes sad, his face drawn, his mind made up. “We send our troops to meet with those of Lorien, and from there they will make for the fortress of the Rohirrim, Helm’s Deep.” He paused, seeing the look on Erestor’s face. “There was once a great alliance between Elves and Men. In these times, we must again honor it. We go to war.”

“To war…” Erestor repeated quietly. He bowed to Elrond and hurried off to rally the troops.

Elrond walked back to his room, passing the portrait of Gil-galad. “We go to war, my Lord,” he whispered, and in his heart he knew the deceased king would have made the same decision.

***

Haldir laid Corwyn down in her bed. She had cried for hours at her table, his hand on her shoulder, until she had fallen asleep. She hadn’t even been able to tell him what was wrong. He watched her now, her chest falling in and out with the deep even breaths of sleep. He bent down to kiss her goodnight, when suddenly something seized his heat.

Haldir jumped back as a thought pushed itself into his mind from out of nowhere. They’re coming. They’re nearly here. And when they arrive, it will be over for you, for her, for both of you.

He shook his head to rid himself of it, and then backed slowly out of Corwyn’s room. He gave her one last fleeting look before heading back to his own telain.