Chapter Fifteen: Ellipsism--Forven
Flashes flickered across my vision, fading to bleak darkness. The lights were without form, shapeless and shifting, like a cloak in the wind. A weight pressed on my chest, and a dull pain throbbed up my side. I could only groan, hands clenching.
The lights were growing brighter as the seconds passed. Head throbbing, I felt the weight on my chest lighten, faint noise filling the air as a cold liquid was pressed to my lips. The noise faded and I felt a brush of air upon my face, but then all was still. Unmoving. Blissful unawareness crept upon me, and I drifted into its cold embrace.
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The ground was burning, a living, flickering, furious inferno.
I breathed harshly, but the smoke burned my throat. The voices of the trees resound, piercing the hazy air with splintering force. I couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't run. Somehow, I did not feel the heat upon my skin. Instead, a strange chill hung around me, almost as a void between the fire and myself. Despite the strange barrier, dread still overwhelmed me as I could but only watch. Wait. See.
The trees were burning. And I could do nothing.
A wind swept by me, and suddenly the light was gone, and I could breathe, only to be caught by oblivion again, sinking into its deepening abyss.
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The ground was crimson, the sky black. Screams arose, biting what had been eerie silence, and, try as I might, I was helpless to cover my ears.
The chilling clash of metal sounded, the silhouettes of what could only be warriors blurring to become a single endless action. My vision narrowed as I struggled to bring the images into focus. Such effort seemed to be in vain, all the colors bleeding into one mural of increasing desolation. Breath harsh and footsteps fumbling, I spun, unable to comprehend the happening around me. It was all so strange.
Abruptly, clarity was awoken.
At what I saw, I drew a sharp intake of breath. The scene became a plaintive storm of attack and defense, set upon an infinite plain. The warriors—I knew them, did I not? But even as the thought arose, it fell as I could bring no name nor relation to them. Each of my comrades was lost in a phantom sea of faces, sinking into the mirky depths.
Spiders lurked, dropping from the trees and onto the bloodstained ground. Despite the grasp I had on my knives, I could not use them, nor could I step amid the combat. I felt to be watching from the outside, as if a glass prison encased me.
A cry rose, lifting above all others. Even as I watched my comrades fall, their weapons dropping useless from their hands, my wandering gaze halted on a single elf. The ellon's bearing was strong, not quite proud but still confident. A shining crown of sun-blessed hair fell around his shoulders. His face--it was one I recognized, the passion in his eyes burning as bright as I had ever known. "Legolas!" I called, but my cry failed to shatter the glass around me. Instead, I was forced to watch what could only be described as horror. An innumerable number of spiders crept towards Legolas. He fought, abandoning bow for knives, but there were too many--too much--he would not be able--
And then I could move.
In an instant, I was advancing forward, legs carrying me across the growing plain. But I was too late, my actions too slow. Legolas saw the immediate threat before him and valiantly fought against it. He did not sense the looming presence behind him, and before A warning could pass from my lips, a spider leapt from the branches above behind him. I heard a cry, filled with pain more than fear—and the world descended into a rippling pool of black.
Sorrow built inside me, mingling with both regret and anger. My knees felt weak at the same time that my heart constricted. So much death--I had failed--the fight was lost--
A low rumble obstructed my thoughts, bringing them to a grinding halt. The sound was soft, comfort woven in its essence, but it quickly faded. I began to count it as something merely of my imagination when suddenly I heard it again, this time louder. Now curious, I truly listened to it, absorbing the strength found in the sound. It was calm and even, easily offering warmth and comfort. I drew on it, despair drifting. Suddenly, the surrounding blackness did not appear quite so threatening and I allowed the tension of my breathing to loosen.
'Hush, maethor. Be na idh, ennas tolo al-goth.'
Peace came upon me. Perhaps defeat was not so near as it seemed.
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When I awoke, my hands were cold.
I groaned, but the sound was breathless and I could only just hear myself. My senses were clouded, but even through the haze I felt a hard pounding at the back of my head, continuous and resonating. I attempted to move, eyes squinting open, but cruel pain shot up my side and through my arm and instantly I closed my eyes, thrust back into a waking twilight.
Forcing myself to still, I held my breath, as if I could somehow suffocate the hurt of my actions away. Slowly releasing the breath and smothering a wince that begged to appear, I regained my tentative hold on cognizance, struggling to recall where I was. The smell--so familiar and yet distinct immediately brought a storm of realizations upon me, and I bolted upright. I attempted to open my eyes, but the immediate onslaught of nausea discouraged the action as the world spin around me.
The pain in my side--and subsequently arm--faded to a dull ache, realizations and recollections pounding through my mind. Memories of battle, hard and cruel, overtook my senses, the metallic taste of blood briefy flavoring my tongue. These memories were not what they had once been. Nearer to their beginnings, they might have been simpler, less tainted, but over time they had been changed. Battles long since past still resonated, twisted from their beginning simplicity into something I didn't dare dwell on. Though the past held hope, parts of it had been stripped of goodness. Reverie had turned to nightmare as all I could see was the never ending loss and death--and the finality of it all.
Reality felt just out of reach, as if I were still in a cruel phantasma composed of my own fear.
I shook myself from my stupor, one arm trembling and slowly slippping from where it supported me. Before I could fall completely back, however, I felt a hand upon my back, and I squinted, watching as vague shapes gained clarity. There was something green, but nearly brown, the colors swirling into a whirlpool of rippling motion. A deep breath and I could see, vividly and clearly, and in the same moment muffled noises became voice and movement.
"--calm---you hear me?"
I knew the voice--not well, but enough. My fists loosened as the voice resonated in my understanding, and I focused on it, searching for who spoke. "That you, Caneir?"
A smirk touched Caneir's lips. "It's no surprise that you're a swordsman if that's how dubious your sight is. Did you ever truly learn to shoot a bow?"
I might have had a quick reply, but an abrupt flash of events pulled my attention, and the illusion of peace was ripped away. I sputtered, choking on my own intake of breath. "The forest--there was--"
"I said to stay calm. Yes, the assassin is being held in the dungeons, and is slowly being coaxed to speak."
I grimaced but nodded, forcing myself to sit straighter and passing a hand over my eyes. "Ai, bain." A moment passed, but his words echoed in my mind. "The assassin speaks already?"
Caneir paused. Briefly, he bit his lip, tilting his head with a wince. "Hm, yes, well he has had time—you've been with a fever, which is entirely normal and expected, as I am sure you know.
'"How long?"
Again, a pause. "...it might have been an upwards of a day since the incident."
I blanched. "A day?!"
Still wincing, Caneir coughed. "Perhaps nearer to two." His voice trailed away as his hand wandered to grip the back of his neck.
My jaw ticked as I tensed. One missed day was an annoyance--two was unacceptable. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Inevitable pain came and I wavered, but did not slow in the movement. A groan rose from deep within my chest, regardless of my effort to conceal it.
Caneir's hand pushed against my chest. "You are not fit to go anywhere."
I gripped his wrist, though my hold was hardly threatening. "Whether I be ready for it or not, death may still come." Feeling the pressure on my chest lessen, I pushed myself to stand.
Sighing, Caneir stood beside me. Since Legolas had chosen him as one of his warriors, Caneir had grown, and now stood eye level with me. There was a hard glint in his sharp eyes. "And your death need not be one of them."
He was right. And eventually I may listen.
Holding one arm near to my side, feeling the bandages layered around my torso, I bit the inside of my cheek. "Where is Legolas?" If any harm had come to him, Caneir would not be so carefree. Two days was too long for Legolas to be away from his many duties, much having chance to transpire in so long a time.
"Readying for a patrol, as I should be as well. He had some matters to see to so he requested that I come here. I was just beginning to leave when you awoke."
My brow furrowed. "You needn't have stayed. Are the healers now incapable?" There were times that Legolas's judgement truly astounded me.
"Nay, but there are a scarce few that would dare even attempt to keep you in the healing wards." He stepped towards a shelf on one of the wall, rummaging through the herbs before finding one that was to his liking. "Legolas thought there may be a chance that my own efforts would be successful--inherently not, but I can do the second best thing. I am putting these herbs in a tea that you will drink, regardless of whether or not you wish to--and stop looking at me like that, I swear there are no sleping herbs in it. They'll lessen the pain that you are doing a terrible job of hiding."
Begrudgingly, I took the cup he offered. "Are you sure you do not wish to train to to be a healer?"
The ellon shook his head. "Too dull for me--I much prefer to offer what help I can in the midst of our... excursions."
I nodded, but did not continue the conversation, swirling my 'drink' before swallowing it. The bitter taste of it might have been minimized by the action, but it was still none too pleasant. "You should prepare for the patrol--tell Legolas I won't do anything he wouldn't do."
Caneir shook his head, a teasing expression of upset etched onto his features. "Yes, that is what worries me." Patting me once on the arm, the warrior left the healing ward, myself just behind him.
The halls were eerily silent.
I exchanged few short words with Caneir as we walked, our paths then separating. While Caneir turned to the warrior halls, I walked towards the courtyard. Legolas would undoubedly refuse to allow me to be apart of the patrol--I would not argue. Though I may wish it to be otherwise, my current state would only hinder, my skills being lost to injury should an adversary arise. Avoiding a confrontation with Legolas would be better than engaging in a fruitless arguement. I would watch the patrol leave--but that would have to be enough.
Waiting, I walked, one slow step after the next. The halls were often dim, but even more so now, the torches flickering low and the morning sun being concealed behind a veil of cloud and shadow.
I shook my head at the word. Shadow. The forest had once been free of any darkness, filled with bright greens and sunlit yellow. Those days of beauty were fading quickly, slipping away quicker than we could fight the descent.
Countless minutes passed, my pace slower than I would have liked. As I passed one of the many windows that oversaw the courtyard, I paused. There, just receding from sight, were the backs of my comrades, all slipping out the gate and into the tainted forest. And then in one swift motion, the gates closed.
Elbereth, let them return unharmed.
Immediately, I knew my mistake. The thought was simple, but it was enough. In a breathless instant I was caught in a snare of the past--of the memories that were supposed to remain unremembered. Of the injuries, the death--when I was young--my adar and naneth before they--
I shook my head roughly. The Shadow was taking too much, too often, too quick.
Resuming to walk forward, I began my journey toward Legolas's study. I had been granted access long ago, so the guards would not argue against my entrance. The reports given to Legolas were bound to be both more plentiful and more detailed than the reports that I was given.
Before I had so much as neared my destination, I slowed, hushed voices slipping into the chilled quiet. Coming to a stop, I stilled my breathing, unsure of who I had been coming towards and unknowing how they may react to my presence. Scarce words slipped down the hall, seeming to come from an adjoining corridor.
"--why? You said--be here!"
"What--didn't expect--"
"—tell—understand—"
I stiffened. There was too much urgency in one of those voices, the other voice all too familiar. Footsteps as silent as I could muster, I crept closer, but it seemed the action was unnecessary. Even as I did so, the voices grew louder, rising from their hushed whispers.
"I thought that you were at one of the outlying villages! That's where you said you would be--why aren't you now?"
"That's only one of the stages of my warrior training, and I suppose the last one I wrote home about--why are you so bothered by that? Will you simply tell me why you are here?--and why your hair is black?"
"You shouldn't bother with it, muindor. Saes, just forget it."
"Shouldn't bother? Why should I not?--you are my sister, what could you possibly have to hide?" A silence stretched, and in the next second, two elves rounded the corner, one dressed in the novice warrior garbs, and the other in the blues of a courier of Imladris.
"Answer me, Iaewneth!"
The elleth stood frozen, her gaze connecting with mine. Bright eyes faded as her stance shifted, lips parted in surprise and foot taking a step backward. No words were exchanged, but the silence spoke volumes. As the pound of my heart drummed in my ears, a mirthless smile found its way onto my lips. Perhaps Legolas had been right. The snake had slithered inside our walls and I had only encouraged it.
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To be continued...
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