This chapter is dedicated to Aika_san_reads! I cannot thank you enough for all your comments, reading them really makes my entire day, and I can't wait for you to see what else I have planned!!
This chapter is a bit of a long one, and i hope you all enjoy. let me know what u think :)
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Sitting in that tent was borderline excruciating. Seconds, minutes or perhaps even hours passed by, and there I was sitting there under Tirwald's watchful gaze, wrists bound, unable to do anything.
Unable to seek out Maeglor, unable to finish what I had started, unable to help, just as I had always despised.
Unable to stop thinking about Legolas. The way my name sounded on his lips ate away at my mind.
Something about what he had uttered to Tirwald chipped off a piece of my heart. Perhaps it was what he said, namely, the use of past tense to reference our relationship, if you could even call it that. Perhaps it was the way he said it—laden with regret, and yet...resolution, as if knowing; acknowledging that our relationship was truly a figment of the past, a product of nothing but similar experiences and chance.
It was just two words, but they never left my mind, circling my thoughts and gnawing into my heartstrings, no matter how hard I tried to force it out.
"You're unusually sullen."
Tirwald's gravelly voice drew my attention. I glanced up from the floor to see him raise a bushy eyebrow.
"You two must have been close, right?" He observed, an almost undetectable smirk on his lips.
I just averted my gaze, not bothered to offer up any sort of comeback.
"What does it matter now?" I muttered, trying to ignore the vast emptiness I could feel expanding within my ribcage.
Tirwald just scoffed, crossing his arms
"Your response answers for itself. You weren't just friends, were you?"
I sighed, looking back up to meet his gaze.
"You were ordered to watch me, not talk to me."
This time the smirk was more noticeable, but he sat back down nevertheless, the tent settling back into silence. That was until I heard a voice from outside call Tirwald's name.
Tirwald's brows furrowed as he turned.
"Tirwald, you must come for a minute!" The voice called.
Tirwald turned back to me with a scowl on his expression. Sending me a pointed glare, as if to warn me not to try anything, he stood to his feet, before turning and exiting the tent. I could hear his voice not too far away, conversing with another man.
Finally.
Leaning my head back as far as I could, I drew my bound wrists upwards, ignoring the pain until I could feel my fingers make contact with the hairpiece still clipped in my black locks. Straining just a little further, a small smile broke across my lips as my fingers managed to catch the metal pin. My hair fell to my shoulders as I pulled out the hairpiece.
With a press of the stone, I heard the unmistakable sound of the small blade shooting out and popping into place. Carefully, I turned the blade in my fingertips, positioning it so that the blade sat against the rope. Slowly but surely, I began to move my wrists back and forth, careful to avoid cutting my own skin as I felt the wicked sharp edge of the blade slicing through the fibres of the rope behind my back.
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.
"Daeriel, have you ever heard of 'ósanwe'?"
My frown only deepened at the mention of the foreign word, and I shook my head in reply.
"What is it?"
"It is the exchange of...information, if you will—perception, emotion, memory—from one mind to another."
"What?"
"It should not be too unfamiliar of a concept. Turn your mind back to Lady Galadriel."
My brows raised as I suddenly remembered her silky smooth and yet stern and unrelenting voice resounding within my mind, despite her not saying a word to me.
I nodded as my mind processed this new information.
"Of course..." I murmured. "How...how does it work?"
"Ósanwe is based upon the connection between the fëar—the spirits—of two beings." Elrond explained. "Thus, only Incarnates* with strong minds and souls dominant over their hröar are able to use such an ability."
The older elf leaned back in his seat.
"Obviously, those of the Maia have a much stronger spiritual connection than us Incarnates, including Gandalf, Saruman and—"
"—and Sauron." I finished, the grave realisation sinking in.
Did I ever have a chance?
Elrond nodded, his expression grim.
"Yes. I believe that Sauron was able to access and gain control over your fëa by somehow twisting this ability to his own malicious desires, to entrap and torment your soul rather than simply just connecting with it."
My gaze fell to the floor as I remembered the skull-crushing pain that seemed to tunnel into my brain. And yet, the minutes of excruciating agony was far from the worst. Entrap and torment was certainly one way to put an endless eternity of inescapable terror, a neverending nightmare that tortured my mind, my body and my soul as I watched everyone I had grown to love die again and again, helpless.
And her smile, her sadistic, bone-chilling smile...I would never be able to close my eyes without seeing those cruel, cold eyes. I would never forget them, as hard as I tried.
I didn't realise I was clenching my fists until I felt Elrond's hands take mine.
"Daeriel."
As reality set back in, I glanced down to see bloody crescents decorating my palm.
"I'm sorry, my lord," I whispered, "I'm not sure if I can do this—I mean, a-am I to just wait until Sauron finds another opportunity to ravage my mind?"
Elrond sighed, and despite his usual stern expression, I knew it hurt him to see me like this.
"That is the reason why I have come: to teach you how you can use your own fëa to protect yourself."
Immediately, my gaze shot up to meet Elrond's, my brows knitting together.
"My fëa? Against Sauron's?"
Disbelief dripped from my tone, and only after I blurted this out did I realise that I still needed to watch my tone.
"I'm sorry, but..." I shook my head, "my...spirituality is...it's nothing compared to the likes of Sauron or Galadriel or you. I am not a millenia-year old royal—I'm just...just an ordinary elf."
However, Elrond shook his head.
"Do not underestimate yourself, Daeriel. For the past centuries of our time together, I have already seen the potential budding within you."
This confused me. I didn't think I had ever shown any proclivity to any abilities in the past, let alone, telepathic ones, I thought to myself, slightly amused.
"What do you mean?"
Elrond shifted in his seat, leaning forwards slightly, his observative eyes peering into mine.
"Have you noticed how perceptive you are to those around you?" He asked. "How you can discern someone's emotions from one glance, and ascertain another's thoughts from just one subtle shift in their facial expression or body language?"
I remained quiet, a frown upon my expression as I turned my mind back to all the times in the past where the way someone acted spoke volumes more than their mere words. Whether it was a seemingly innocuous hand gesture, a miniscule shift in expression or even just a glint behind the eyes, I found I'd almost been able to pick up on it.
Even now, as I stared back at Elrond, I could tell he was stressed, worried—the fine lines on his forehead told me that. But that was easy to tell. What wasn't clear to most people was the small seed of hope that I could sense as he spoke to me. Hope in our cause, hope in Frodo, hope in the strength of good. It was buried deep in his voice and the way he looked at me, but it was there.
"You are reading me now, aren't you?"
I opened my mouth to deny it, but Elrond held up his hand.
"What do you see?"
I exhaled slowly.
"I see anxiety, worry, fear, but...but I also see hope."
A small smile spread across his lips as he folded his hands on his lap.
"That is correct. I have hope that you will soon be able to surmount what currently seems insurmountable."
But...this was a perfectly human trait, I thought to myself, it was surely nothing that special. It was just...empathy, wasn't it?
"But being empathetic...that's just who I am." I spoke, my voice still dripping with uncertainty.
Elrond just nodded.
"True, but there is also no denying how closely intertwined this trait is with ósanwe." He replied, a slight twinkle behind his eyes. "Not to mention, you forget that Amarya is also yours to utilise."
"...Amarya?"
"Did Mithrandir explain how it works?"
I nodded my head, recalling back to when he first explained Amarya's abilities to me over the flickering campfire after my nightmare. That seemed like a lifetime ago, and I almost hoped I could return back to the time when I knew nothing of all this. The time when I had not been scarred yet—at least this much. The time my spirit was still in one piece.
Still, I replied.
"Yes, he told me that it strengthens the fëa and its bond with the body."
I shot a quick glance of the ring that sat on my finger. The ring that, in the past few days, was almost forgotten. After all, how could I use it if I had little strength in my fëa to begin with?
But Elrond did not have to know that.
He nodded.
"Precisely, thus allowing greater potential for control and manipulation of both elements. Mastery of the hröa unlocks greater healing, mastery of the fëa unlocks ósanwe."
Despite all the scarring memories re-flooding my mind, curiosity still blossomed within me.
"Will I ever be able to peer into another mind myself, like you or Galadriel?"
Elrond nodded slowly, as if considering the question.
"Well, the skill is the same as healing: it requires a connection between two beings' fëa, which is really what healing is centred around. So with practice, you should not struggle much."
But I averted my gaze. I could not help but feel a sense of guilt and shame wash over me as the realisation sunk in: my spirit was barely holding on; barely enough to sustain life, not nearly enough to heal. The fourth elven ring was supposed to be in the hands of someone capable of wielding its power, and now Amarya was essentially useless. In essence, so was I.
Elrond shook his head, standing to his feet.
"But enough talk. Now, I must teach you how to prevent any further unwanted intrusions, whether it be from Sauron or another entity."
I frowned as I looked up at him.
"Oh..okay...so how do I start?" I stammered.
"The first step is to make the vital connection with your fëa, as you would when healing."
I swallowed, but nodded nevertheless.
Elrond had been helping me strengthen my spirit since day one of my arrival in Imladris, and I just could not bear to let him know that I had lost almost everything.
I closed my eyes, trying to centre my attention on my own body; the blood flowing through my veins, the way the air flowed in and out of my lungs, trying to clear my mind of all the nervous thoughts buzzing around my head. The flapping of the tent in the wind, the distant sound of mens' conversations and the soft hoofbeats of the horses all fell away until I was surrounded by nothing but silence.
Furrowing my brows, I tried to find the spark, the flicker of golden light I had associated with my soul.
But try as I may, I could not get a solid grasp. Every time I thought I had found it, the light flickered out before I could focus on it.
Elrond just continued to speak, his voice the only stimulus from the outside world penetrating through my shroud of concentration.
"So that you may practice, I will attempt to breach your mind as Sauron would, without doing any actual harm, of course."
"You better not dig too deep into my thoughts, hir vuin." I mumbled half-heartedly as I continued to try and find my fëa.
"That will depend on how strong your defence is." I heard him reply matter-of-factly. "I find the best way to protect your fëa is to create a sort of...visual metaphor within your mind, such as building walls to protect against external influences. Let me know when you think you are ready."
I felt myself nod as I tried to follow Elrond's instructions.
Suddenly, I was no longer sitting in that tent. Instead, I found myself standing before a great wall. And right in front of me was a large, grandiose set of doors towering over me, ornate golden patterns spiralling from the ground all the way to the top.
They looked...so familiar, but I could not place why.
That was until I turned around and saw the mountain rising above the ground. Buoyant laughter and the sound of lively conversation drifted into the air, and I could see people walking the paths, carefree and enjoying the last few golden rays of sunlight. As my eyes wandered the white and gold structures built into the mountain face, recognition flooded my mind.
This was...Maladros.
Only, it was before that fateful day.
Before the day fate decided he wanted to break me.
All of a sudden, a loud thud resounded from the doors in front of me, sending dust falling from the tops of the walls. I watched as, slowly the doors creaked to life, cracking open towards me. Through the gradually widening opening I couldn't make out much except barren plains, dry and yellow grass blowing in the arid breeze that blew through, sending my black locks swirling by my face.
Daeriel, do not let me in.
I widened my eyes at the sound of Elrond's voice in my head.
Find strength in your spirit and push back.
Nodding slowly, I focused on the great doors, placing my hands against the cold, white marble. I could feel the doors continue to open up. Closing my eyes, I tried to dig deep, channelling my strength to push back against whatever force pushed from the other side.
The first thought that entered my mind—I could not let it enter my kingdom. Not after what I had seen that night.
But the force seemed relentless, and my muscles quickly began to ache and quiver beneath the force of the doors continuing to open. No matter how hard I tried, how much my body seemed to burn, the gap between the doors only widened. Even as I grit my teeth and dug my heels into the ground, I could feel myself sliding backwards.
Without warning, the doors swung wide open, sending me flying backwards, and I could immediately feel Elrond's presence in my mind. As I felt my back hit the ground, everything vanished, and reality rushed back in like water surging from a broken dam.
"Daeriel!"
As I slowly reopened my eyes, a wave of dizziness hit me. As I tried to regain control of my senses, I felt a warm liquid trickle from my nose. Bringing my fingers up to my nose, I was met with the sight of the crimson red of blood.
My gaze travelled up to meet Elrond's, his eyes full of concern, brows furrowed deeply as he stood over me.
"What happened?" He questioned, his eyes searching through mine as he handed me a napkin. "I sense your fëa is much weaker than it should be."
I knew I could not hide it any longer. With a shaky exhale, I wiped my nose, my gaze falling to the floor in shame.
"Ever since Sauron's attack...I haven't been able to find a connection with fëa." My voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "I sense it is there but...it feels so distant, so cold."
Elrond's frown only deepened.
"Does that mean that..."
I closed my eyes.
"My healing, my connection with Amarya..." I shook my head, unable to control the slight quiver in my voice as I lifted my tunic, showing him the still-ugly stab wound on my abdomen, "...they're gone."
Elrond remained silent, and the apprehension within me only skyrocketed in anticipation of how he would react. Would he be angry that I had let my 'gift' slip from my fingers so easily? Would he be disappointed that the only remnant of a once-great elven kingdom was now weak and worthless?
For someone so supposedly skilled at empathy, I could not for the life of me work out what Elrond was thinking.
When he did speak, his expression held nothing but his frown.
"Do you mind if I..." He gestured to my head.
I furrowed my brows at first before realising what he was talking about.
"Oh, be my guest."
Closing my eyes, I tried to open up my mind. After all, I did not decipher my own self, maybe someone else could.
With a rush, I could once again feel Elrond's presence flood into my mind.
So this was ósanwe, I thought.
It was certainly a strange feeling, being so exposed psychologically, having someone sift through your soul, your thoughts and emotions, although I did trust my mentor to not pry too far.
"It seems to me that Sauron's attack inflicted an immense trauma to your soul." I heard him speak.
"I could have told you that." I muttered.
Elrond seemed to ignore this comment.
"Your fëa... it is struggling to heal itself, let alone others."
"Can you help heal it?" I asked.
But I could sense the sadness in his tone.
"Unfortunately, it seems that this is something only you can do." He replied as I felt him withdraw.
I slumped back in my seat, opening my eyes, dejected.
"Then I may as well remain bound and kept in here if I am to be of such little use." I murmured, bringing my hand up to massage my temple.
But to my surprise, Elrond placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"You always underestimate your value, iell nín." He smiled sadly. "There is much you are yet to accomplish. You may not feel it yet, but..."
His eyes glimmered.
"...I have seen it, like the green shoots that push out of the burnt, ash-covered earth after a fire. They may not look like much, but give it time, and they will grow to become a thriving forest."
He placed a hand over my wound, and I felt a slight warmth through the fabric as he murmured a few unfamiliar elvish words. I raised my eyebrows, feeling the pain slowly subside.
I glanced down, pulling up the fabric to see the wound that I had been struggling to live with now reduced to a scar.
I looked back up at Elrond.
"Thank you, my lord." I bowed my head in gratitude.
"Do not worry too much." Elrond spoke as he returned the nod and stood to his feet. "You are still alive. Therefore, your fëa—though fragile— still lives within you. If you can learn to overcome the trauma, your full spirit can return, along with your healing.
I sighed, shaking my head.
"I'm afraid that is much easier said than done."
"I know." Elrond acknowledged, offering me a hand, which I graciously took, helping myself to my feet.
"It will take time, as well as considerable willpower and endurance, but..."
Elrond sent me a soft smile.
"It is nothing that I have not seen in you before."
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*Incarnates refers to beings who's natural state includes the union between fëa and hröa—elves, men, dwarves, ents etc.
Examples of beings that are not incarnates—the Ainur—would be the Maia (spirits such as the wizards, Sauron, the balrogs) as well the Valar (the gods). They do not need a hröa to survive, unlike Incarnates. Despite sometimes taking a physical form like Gandalf, Sauron and Melian, this is more of an embodiment or manifestation of their spirit rather than an actual body.
As such, ósanwe is much stronger in the Ainur due to their lack of a hröa.