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━━━━ »•» act three. age of anguish
33. still breathing «•« ━━━━
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019
𓇻 north of rohan; fangorn forest
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THIS TIME GYDA WASN'T THERE IN THE DARK TO GREET HER. But it didn't worry her. For it meant her friend was still alive and had not yet joined her in the cold arms of death. After losing her father, Elgarain had often tried to paint the Halls of Mandos. But her mind had never been able to conjure a picture to put to paper. Though even if she had some sort of vague idea of the resting place of the Eldar, this darkness certainly wasn't it.
She had hoped to be greeted by golden sunlight, by the singing of birds and a soft summer breeze. Perhaps her father would've been there, smiling at her. Maybe she would even get to meet her grandfather and grandmother. Or some of the other great Lords of the House of Fingolfin.
Instead, she was alone in the darkness once again.
Which was probably for the best. For what had she accomplished that would even make her worthy to stand in the presence of her ancestors? Her rule had been short and, in that time, she hadn't left an heir behind to protect her people. All because her heart belonged to someone far out of reach. Then, she had decided to join a quest and leave her people behind. And now, she hadn't even managed to see that quest through.
She had only ever done what she thought was right and it led her straight to a lonely death. Far away from anything and anyone she'd ever known.
A sob escaped her lips and she wrapped her arms around herself to try and keep warm. But as she moved her hand, a silver flicker of light caught her eye. Vilya shone softly, almost comforting. She wasn't alone after all.
Slowly the light grew brighter, as if trying to pull her out of the darkness. And as the ring brightened, the sounds of the world surrounding her slowly returned as well. Like the whispers of a faraway wind drawing closer before turning at last into a hurricane. Elgarain strained to listen. It took her a moment to realize what exactly it was she was hearing. Someone was muttering softly in a foreign language, yet it was a comforting one.
Elgarain squinted her eyes against the light, trying to see who was sitting at her side. And as if Vilya heard her wish, the light slowly dimmed and revealed her surroundings.
She was laying on soft green grass in the middle of a glade. Huge, old trees surrounded her from all sides, their branches rustling softly in the wind. The canopy was too thick to catch even a glimpse of the sky but, judging by the few golden rays that managed to find their way through, it had to be somewhere around midday.
Finally, her eyes fell upon a figure seated next to her and her heart jumped a startled beat in her chest. He clothed in pure white, smoking a pipe while humming in some ancient tongue.
"Gandalf?" she muttered.
"Ah," the wizard ceased his humming and turned to look at her with those familiar blue eyes. "You're awake."
She was glad to be greeted in death by a familiar face after all, even if he did look very different. His gray robes had been exchanged for white ones. As was his hair, now white instead of gray. Even his staff was white and no longer made of brown wood. Though she was glad to see there was one thing still the same: his friendly but stern blue eyes.
She wanted to sit to talk to him but as she moved her entire body protested. It felt as though an entire herd of horses had trampled her after which a tree had fallen on top of her to finish the job. She was slightly surprised to see her skin wasn't entirely blue and purple. A pained hiss escaped her lips as she moved again, much slower this time.
At last, she managed to sit up straight, leaning her back against a boulder. "I thought being dead would, well, hurt less," she grimaced. She was completely exhausted from merely moving to sit.
Gandalf glanced at her, his blue eyes twinkling. "Whatever made you think that?"
Elgarain shrugged. "I heard many stories about Valinor in my childhood. About the peaceful and beautiful life we had there." She smiled wistfully. "I guess I just assumed being dead would feel like that."
He nodded. "I suppose it's not a completely absurd notion."
She smiled at him. "What did you think death would feel like then?"
A sudden shadow seemed to fall upon Gandalf's features, as if he was fighting an unpleasant memory. Merely looking at him made a shiver crawl down her spine.
"Gandalf?"
He blinked and then, just as suddenly as it came, the shadow was gone. He smiled, though his eyes lost their usual spark. "Death is just another path. One that we all must take. The gray rain curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it. White shores and beyond...A far green country under a swift sunrise."
"That sounds very peaceful," she muttered.
"Yes," he spoke softly, his features softened, "yes it does."
Silence embraced them as they simply sat there, looking at the green world surrounding them. Her own death had felt far less peaceful, not that she was about to complain. For she didn't have to fight a Balrog...Then she frowned as a sudden thought dawned on her. "I had no idea the Istari were granted a place in the Halls of Mandos as well?"
The wizard let out a sudden, booming, laugh. "My dear Elgarain, does this look like a hall to you?" He gestured to the forest surrounding them.
"I-no it doesn't," she muttered. "But then where are we?"
Once again, she studied her surroundings. From the grass to the old and bended trees. She couldn't help but shake the feeling that it all looked awfully familiar. And slowly a name came drifting to the surface of her memories. Fangorn.
With wide eyes she turned back towards the wizard, who was watching her closely. She felt like his silence was meant as an encouragement to put the pieces together all on her own.
Her hands were trembling as she looked down her stomach. Her armor and tunic were torn apart and bloodied. Carefully she pulled the cloth aside to reveal a large, white scar running across her stomach. She gasped for air and suddenly the whole world seemed to be spinning around her. As if it was the last lifeline she had left, Elgarain lifted her hand to look at her ring. Vilya glowed softly, a warm silver light. The ring had protected her once again. Even from death.
But that was impossible.
She had to be dead.
Because Gandalf was.
"Where are we?" she asked once again, her voice shaking.
"Fangorn forest, on the outskirts of Rohan," Gandalf answered with the utmost seriousness.
She shook her head, her entire body trembling from exhaustion. Maybe this was another one of those strangely real dreams. Yet she knew very well it wasn't.
"It cannot be. You fell. We, I-" Elgarain didn't know whether to laugh or cry and so she ended up laughing through her tears.
Gandalf placed a steady hand on her shoulder and her body ceased to tremble. "I've been sent back to finish my task. And it seems I have found you just in time."
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Elgarain looked, really looked, at the wizard seated in front of her. He was as real as the ground beneath her and as the air she breathed. They were alive, both of them were alive!
"But how am I alive?" she asked. "Did you use Vilya to heal me?"
"No, I did not," Gandalf spoke slowly.
"I-I don't understand. I fell unconscious before I could heal myself."
"What made you think you have to be awake to command the ring, Elgarain?"
She opened her mouth, only to close it again. She tried to recall the moment before the darkness overwhelmed her. There'd been too much pain, too much fear to think clearly. And after that? If her body couldn't have commanded Vilya to heal her, the only other explanation was that her spirit had done so. Somehow, Vilya had become connected to her fëa.
"There wasn't exactly time to study its workings," she whispered as she absentmindedly rubbed the blue stone on her finger.
"The best studies are often done through living experiences," Gandalf replied.
"I think Lord Elrond might disagree," she smiled, remembering the hours upon hours of reading her mentor had forced her through before even allowing her anywhere near herbs and bandages.
Gandalf smiled beneath his beard. "Perhaps he did once, but would he have given you this ring if he still believed so?"
She narrowed her eyes at the wizard. "You wouldn't have anything to do with his sudden change of heart, would you?"
Suddenly he choked on the smoke of his pipe and broke out into heavy coughs.
With a grin she shook her head, reached for the water flask standing at his feet and handed it to him.
He nodded a silent thanks and slowly took a sip to ease his coughing.
During the silence her mind was still trying to catch up with everything she'd learned in the last few minutes. She had always been taught that her fëa was powerless without her hröa. But it seemed like the elven ring somehow worked as a replacement of her body in time of need. To help her heal when her body failed to do so. The thought struck her so suddenly that she gasped, making Gandalf turn to look at her with raised brows.
"If Vilya can be connected with my spirit and have the same workings as my body...Does that mean this ring could bind my fëa to the world of the living, even if I no longer had a body?"
The grave look on Gandalf's face told her more than words could have done.
"So that is why Sauron ordered me to be captured," she muttered. "That is why he wants this ring." She looked at the wizard with wide eyes. "Did you know this?"
Gandalf took a long drag from his pipe and blew out the smoke in the shape of a perfect circle. "I suspected it," he answered finally. "He needs the One Ring to restore his former might but it is not within his power to retake physical shape. But with this ring, he might be able to do so."
With a frown she studied the ring on her finger. "So, had we been taken to Saruman..."
"Do not trouble yourself with what might have been," Gandalf reassured her. "The three elven rings remain uncorrupted by Sauron. Which is, in part, thanks to you."
He handed her the flask and she took it with a small smile. Her head felt heavy from merely thinking about the importance of the jewel she carried. But she was pulled out of her thoughts when her eyes caught sight of the drawing upon the flask. It was a hole with a round door.
She had seen this flask many times in the hands of Merry and the mere thought of the Hobbit was enough to set her heart racing. "The Hobbits? Where are they? Are they safe?"
Gandalf smiled warmly. "Merry and Pippin are quite safe. Though they refused to be before making sure you were safe as well."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"After leaving you behind they were found by a shepherd of the forest. He brought them to me and they led me to you hoping I could heal you. But you had already healed yourself."
With wide eyes Elgarain watched him as the meaning of his words became clear. "A shepherd of the forest? Do you mean to say the Onodrim still live?"
Gandalf nodded solemnly. "Oh yes, they're very much alive. And the coming of Merry and Pippin might just be enough to remind them of their old strength."
She sighed before taking a sip of water. "I wish I was awake to see him."
"You might yet before this is all over," he smiled.
The thought of seeing the Ents made her feel giddy, like a young Elfling. If Merry and Pippin were truly with them, she was more than convinced they were perfectly safe. Which begged the question of how safe the two of them actually were. If the riders of Rohan defeated and killed all of the orcs, she had little to fear, but how did she know the orcs hadn't won the battle?
As if having read her thoughts, Gandalf smiled. "You have much on your mind, Tari. Perhaps it would be best to rest while you still can."
The heavy exhaustion pulling at her limbs seemed to become even heavier upon hearing his words.
She hadn't wanted to admit how tired she truly was but as if Gandalf's words were a command, she suddenly realized how much her body needed rest.
"I will," she said, "but only if you promise to wake me should the Ents return."
Gandalf chuckled. "You have my word."
She nodded and made herself as comfortable on the ground as she could. As soon as she closed her eyes, she could feel herself drifting away. But for the first time in days, she didn't fear the numbing nothingness that sleep would provide. She didn't dream and for once, she was thankful for it. Healing herself had taken so much out of her that Elgarain felt like she could have slept for years.
But only far too soon was her blissful slumber interrupted by voices.
She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake the remaining numbness of her sleep away. Either she had slept through the night, or she had barely slept at all. For it was midday still.
Gandalf's voice reached her and she listened with a frown. "... From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back...until my task is done."
The voice that answered him tore right through her heart and made tears appear in her eyes.
Aragorn's familiar soft voice muttered Gandalf's name in disbelief.
"Yes. That is what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey."
Elgarain moved to sit up straight and looked to her right. Gandalf was standing in front of her, shielding her from the sight of their fellow companions. Suddenly it was hard to breathe.
"Gandalf," Gimli repeated.
Her heart was beating like a war drum in her chest.
"I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide." He paused. "We've come back."
He moved his cloak aside, revealing her to what remained of their fellowship.
A trembling gasp left her lips as she locked eyes with Gyda.
Gyda took one step forward, and another, and another until suddenly she was running without regard for anything else. Without warning Gyda flung herself at her. "You reckless idiot," she checked out before wrapping her arms so tightly around her, Elgarain could barely breathe. "I believed you to be dead!"
"I'm glad to see you too," Elgarain whispered through her tears, ignoring the painful throbbing of her body in Gyda's tight embrace. Instead, she hugged her just as tightly.
But Gyda noticed, Gyda always noticed. Slowly she moved away, a thoughtful frown on her face, as if remembering, remembering something from their shared dream. "You're hurt."
"I was," she replied. "I managed to heal myself just in time. Thanks to Vilya." She gestured to her ripped clothes and revealed the scar from where the orc had pushed his blade through her stomach. "I'm just a little bruised now."
Gyda's eyes were drawn to the scar and her bottom lip trembled. Then she quickly averted her gaze, as if feeling the pain of the wound herself by merely looking at it. "I'm so sorry Elgarain," she whispered, "I-I wish I was there. As my vow had demanded of me."
Elgarain shook her head, features hardened. "You've trained me, taught me how to protect myself. That's how you've kept your vow, nésa."
Gyda grabbed her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. A silent thank you.
With the clattering of chainmail, Gimli took a step forward. "I've never in my life been so glad to see an Elf," he sniffed, desperately trying to hide the glimmer of tears in his eyes. "You got us running all across Middle-Earth, lass."
Elgarain chuckled as she got to her feet and walked towards the dwarf. "You've got my most heartfelt thanks, master dwarf." Then, without giving him a chance to refuse, she hugged him tightly.
He patted her on the back and then quickly stepped out of her embrace, swatting her words away while continuing to mutter beneath his breath.
She smiled and then turned to look at Legolas, who had been watching the two of them with an amused tilt of his lips. "I'm glad to see you alive, mellon nin," Legolas smiled as he placed his hand on his heart and bowed his head.
"As am I, mellon," she said and bowed her head in return.
Taking a deep breath, Elgarain braced herself as she turned to look at the last member of their fellowship. Her teary eyes met his sorrowful gray ones and her stomach ached at the sight of him.
Aragorn looked as if he had been the one taken prisoner by the Uruk-hai and stabbed with a sword. Dark circles were painted beneath his eyes. His clothes looked even more ragged and torn than they usually did. She hardly dared to think it but it crossed her mind without her permission anyway. Had she done this to him? Was worrying about her what made him look so ghostly pale? Did he still care enough to look at her like she was a star that had come falling down from the heavens?
His hand twitched at his side, as if he had to physically stop himself from reaching out to her.
She wished, with all her heart, he wouldn't stop himself. She had almost died and her patience for petty things had worn thin. So, with her entire body burning, she threw all caution in the wind. With a few quick strides she walked forward and embraced him tightly, burying her head in the crook of his neck. The smell of wind and rain greeted her as Aragorn wrapped his arms around her in return, his touch gentle and yet strong.
"Goheno nin," he whispered in her hair.
Elgarain barely managed to swallow her tears and pulled away from him so she could look him in the eye. Their fight in Lothlórien came drifting to the surface of her memories. He had not been the only one in the wrong that day. "I forgive you," she said softly, her words meant just for him. "But only if you forgive me as well."
A small smile appeared on his face and she captured the sight of it within her heart. Tenderly he wiped away a tear from her cheek. "I already have, anarinya."
Their reunion was interrupted by Gandalf's stern voice and they stepped out of each other's embrace to look at him. "We must make haste. Rohan stands on the edge of peril. We must travel to Edoras with all speed."
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𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .
I am really really proud of this chapter! I had way too much fun writing Elgarain's conversation with Gandalf. It was so funny to see how far I could take it before Elgarain would finally notice she wasn't actually dead. Hopefully this whole fëa and hröa situation isn't too complicated!
Chloe and I were basically yelling at each other while writing this. We're just so happy our girls are reunited! Also the reunion between Aragorn and Elgarain was really hard to write for me. They've finally forgiven each other for that stupid fight in Lothlórien so that's a win! All those other feelings will have to wait :)
Anyway, I hope you guys liked it! As always, please leave some comments and votes. Hearing from you means the world to me!
xx Nelly
ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:
Fëa ― Spirit or soul
Hröa ― Body
Onodrim ― Tree-host, also known as Ents
Tari ― Queen
Nésa ― Sister
Mellon nin ― My friend
Goheno nin ― Forgive me
Anarinya ― My sun
NOTES ON LORE:
The Halls of Mandos ― The Halls of Mandos hold the souls of the dead Elves and are the dwelling place of Mandos, the Doomsman of the Valar. The Elves, after a period of cleansing and self-reflection, could be reincarnated into bodies identical to those of their prior life.
Fëa & hröa ― Fëa and hröa (fëar and hröar in plural forms) are Quenya words for "soul" (or "spirit") and "body". According to the Elves, the fëa is powerless without the hröa, and likewise the latter would die without the former.