Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

He lives

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He was flying far over the landscape, the ground below blurred as he raced passed. Fields, forests, rivers, and valleys passed underneath him until he came to a mountain range looming high in the sky, seemingly endless to the south and north. Suddenly he was plummeting through the sky and toward the ground where, at the last second, he spotted a small hole dug into the earth. The light vanished, only a small glimmer as if from a candle remained, as he twisted and turned though the narrow tunnel at an astonishing rate.

He suddenly slowed down as the tunnel opened up and more passages branched off from the main tunnel. He continued straight until he passed the fifth tunnel and turned left at the next one then turned left again. The tunnels opened up into a cavern twenty feet high and thirty feet across. He flew straight across it and dove into another twisting tunnel. Left, straight, right, left, and straight again.

Suddenly his path stopped and he came face to face with a wall. Looking up he noticed the tunnel continued in a vertical path and had no end from what he could see. The next thing he knew he was flying up and out and racing down another tunnel which opened up to reveal a huge cavern.

Thousands upon thousands of goblins scuttled across it like beetles and in the center of it all was the largest and most hideous beast Illeandir had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon. A small figure lay curled at its feet. The creature, he could only assume it was the leader of the goblins, barked an order and a goblin came forward with a water skin in his hand. He grabbed the figure by the face and forced his mouth open.

Illeandir wanted cry with relief and anger when he saw their face. It was Zaharias, beaten and starved but still the same elf Illeandir had known since he was barely ninety years old. Perhaps, if his dreams could be trusted Zaharias was still alive, though for how much longer Illeandir did not know. He needed to find him before it was too late.

The goblin proceeded to pour the contents of the skin down Zaharias' throat. The elf gagged and coughed violently causing Illeandir to cringe.

A minute passed with the goblins waiting tensley for something to happen. Illeandir forgot he was dreaming and waited with nervous anticipation for whatever was to happen next.

Slowly, deliberately, Zaharias rose to his feet and the goblins cheered. A chill crawled up Illeandir's spine as Zaharias faced the goblin king in defiance, bouncing lightly on his the platforms of his feet with barely restrained energy.

The king raised his hand but just before it dropped the dream faded, replaced by elven dreams that slowly gave way to consciousness...

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Soft singing woke Illeandir. Without moving he opened his eyes and explored the room filled with soft light that seemed to be coming from everywhere. A large variety of plants grew in various sizes of pots and some even sprouted through carefully carved holes in the floor. A large window filled the eastern wall. Sunlight filtered through the window overlooking much of the city and Pelennor Fields. Great ruts in the earth from the battle fought hundreds of years ago still scarred the landscape, though they were less obvious now.

Satisfied that he was, for the moment, safe Illeandir turned his attention to the source of the singing. The elleth with blue eyes sat in a chair rocking back and forth silently while she sang. She wore a long white dress with sleeves that fell loosely about her elbows. In her hands she held a shirt Illeandir recognized as his own. She was mending an arrow hole in the shoulder. A small pile of clothes lay at her feet, they were also his.