𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

66| a broken spirit

At last, I felt the final strand give way, and I heard the rope fall to the ground.

With a small sigh of relief at my new freedom, I brought my hands before me, rubbing my wrists as I stood to my feet. Carefully, I made my way towards the exit, still straining my ears and listening. As far as I could tell, Tirwald still seemed deeply ingrained within his conversation.

Good, I thought. Whatever he was talking about, I hoped it was enough to distract him.

But as I reached out a hand to pull back the tent flap, another figure stepped through, sending my heart leaping into my throat. I stumbled backwards.

But gazing upon who it was, my eyes widened.

"Elrond?"

As my mind registered the elven lord of Rivendell standing before me, I finally remembered to bow my head.

"Le-le suilon, hir vuin." I greeted him hastily.

Elrond stood tall and proud, hands clasped before him in his usual, regal stance. A long black cloak covered his usual travelling attire

"Suil, Daeriel." He replied with a grim nod.

He sat down in a chair, before gesturing me to follow suit, which I obeyed, still a little uncertain as to why Elrond was so far from home.

After a brief silence, Elrond sighed.

"Mithrandir has informed me of your recent...encounter with Sauron." He uttered.

Immediately, I felt a sinking feeling take ahold of my heart, and I suddenly became hyper aware of the throbbing pain that still attacked my abdomen with every breath.

The wound caused by my own blade.

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably as the wind seemed to pick up, the fabric of the tent fluttering in the breeze, a few sheets of paper on the table blowing onto the floor.

"I see..." I muttered.

The torch seemed to flicker and dim, and the air seemed to grow colder.

So much had happened since I had escaped from...from that place, that it was hard to accept that it was only a few days ago. I suppose I was lucky that I could keep my mind occupied with everything else that happened, but in reality, all I was doing was delaying the inevitable break that all those traumatic memories within me would surely cause.

And in that moment, as memory after memory flashed before my eyes—the frozen wasteland, the terrifying contrast between the dark red of the blood and the blinding white of the snow, the way her dead eyes seemed so disturbingly familiar, the feeling of unending, ever-present dread—I knew I could avoid it no longer.

Elrond's tone softened, surely monitoring my reaction.

"It is not my intention to dredge up such...distressing memories, but in order to avoid such incidents in the future, we must revisit the past, no matter the pain."

I released a shaky sigh as I redirected my attention back to Elrond.

"I know."

He pursed his lips.

"I have never seen anything like this in my six millenia of existence. However, I have since consulted with the Lady Galadriel, of whom I am here on behalf of today."

I furrowed my brows.

"And?"

Elrond remained quiet for a brief moment, before meeting my gaze.