AN: Are you sitting down? Seriously. Sit down. I didn't warn two people and they almost fell over. I don't want injuries. Sit down. Sitting? Okay. Good. Proceed.
Myran stood before her; a picture of innocence and serenity. Nara studied him with unrelenting intensity. His face certainly looked elf-like, but Nara had seen enough fine featured men to not believe an elf stood before her, at least until it was proven.
Myran still wore his headband over his ears, it was stained with blood. More trouble than expected had come from Rohan. The skirmishes had been quick and nonlethal, but devastating nonetheless. He looked worn, but he never wavered or let his appearance suffer. Nara admired him for that. She did not want to do what needed to be done.
"There are two ways this can go," Nara said coldly, hiding any emotion she felt. "You will either tell me the truth now and I will remove you from the army and let you stay inside the citadel. Or you can lie about who you are and I imprison you for life for lying to your queen and country."
"You are not going to banish me?" Myran asked with a small smile.
"No. You are far too dangerous to be wandering the country. You know far too much for me to release."
The smile faded from Myran's lips.
"Very well, your highness." He pulled the band off his head to reveal pointed ears. "I will tell you who I am, though I do not think you will like it and it is no short tale." His demeanor suddenly changed, he became taller and prouder, shedding the guise of a mortal man for that of a race with as long a life as the earth remained. Before her eyes Myran suddenly became something else, someone else.
"My full name is Myrandir. I came to Gondor in search of my brother some years ago when I heard word of an elf with green eyes who was taller than any mortal man and immortal elf." Myrandir's own green eyes flashed brightly for a second. "When I came to Gondor, where the rumors had begun, I found I was too late. He had already gone."
"Who is your brother?" Nara asked, fearing she already knew the answer. The resemblence was uncanny. Myrandir smiled and Nara knew.
"Illeandir is my brother."
She didn't move. Didn't breath. Did not blink. She wondered if Illeandir knew he had a brother.
"Does he know?" she asked, giving way to curiosity. Myrandir shook his head.
"Our mother and father were forbidden from bondage by King Thranduil." A far away look entered Myrandir's eyes. They were of a paler green than Illeandir's, yet they possessed the same sorrow. "I know not why their love was forbidden. There were, for a time, rumors that my mother belonged to another. A political gain for her family."
"How do you know of this when Illeandir does not?" Nara had sat down, listening with rapt attention to this strange tale.
"He knows nothing not by choice of our parents, but by the dictation of many," Myrandir said. "We were born minutes apart. Within the few minutes before we were separated. My father gathered me into his arms and hid me away. Illeandir was not so lucky." Myrandir paused and slowly closed his eyes as if he could see that first night of his existence with absolute clarity. "Minutes were all we had as a family, whole, happy, and complete before they ripped my brother from the arms of my mother." Myrandir opened his eyes and pushed his hair from his face. "I do not know where they took him that night. I was taken to live in Mithlond with my parents after they were banished from Mirkwood." There was a long pause. "I grew up knowing I was an outcast, resenting my parents for their deed and hating a brother I have never seen. I understand them better now. " A faint grin was visible on his face.
"You were the first born?" Nara asked. Myrandir smiled thinly, shaking his head.
"Illeandir was first and I next." A strange gleam entered the Elf's eyes. Nara waited.
"Hours later a third child was born. Small, weak, and silent as the grave."
His words struck Nara dumb.
"Theafandir they named him. They gave him to my mother's sister. A child of her own. Yet they did not believe he would survive the night. Years I searched for rumors of his whereabouts, refusing to believe he had perished that night. Word reaches my ears that forty years after our birth he was found huddle next to her torn body, bloody and battered. The tracks of wolves could be seen all around. He was brought to Thranduil's court where his gift of language and the art of the court was discovered, despite his deafness."
"Deaf?"
"The wolf attack, I am told, was to blame. He suffered a heavy blow to the head. Now he lives among the dwarves as an ambassador, waiting for Thranduil to send word to come home."
"But he cannot because the Elves have disappeared," Nara said. Myrandir shook his head.
"They are still dwelling in Middle Earth."
"Where are they?" Nara demanded. She stood up to her full height. Myrandir took a nervous step back.
"They have concealed themselves from the world. A barrier hides them from all eyes and ears and prevents even their kin from sensing them. They are hiding from man and the great destruction that comes. There are few who dare to venture outside the border and some who were left behind."
Nara's thoughts immediately went to Ithilwen. Had she known this?
A servant cautiously knocked on the door. Nara huffed in frustration. There was so much more she needed to know.
"Come in," she said. Myrandir retreated to the dark corner. Lord Telmar entered, face red and a triumphant grin on his wide mouth.
"Jarron has been captured."
...
Nara's skirts swished wildly and her slippered feet pounded the stone floor. Lord Telmar huffed and puffed behind her, his heeled boots scuffing the stone with each heavy step. Myrandir followed close behind, eerily silent. The only sound he'd made was a startled grunt after running headlong into a cobweb.
The prison was deep within the citadel, far from the reach of sunlight. Here only sputtering torches lit the damp, dark hallways. Mice could be heard squealing as the trio passed. Despite Nara's furious pace, it took a quarter of an hour to reach the cell her uncle was held in.
The door was guarded by two soldiers in black uniforms, each with a spear in hand and a sword at his belt. Without a word they opened the heavy door for their queen and her companions. The light from a nearby torch dimly lit the cell. A thin layer of straw covered the bone chilling ground.
Jarron, haggard and ill-kempt, huddled in the corner; a thin blanket over his shoulders. Blood stained the side of his face black in the poor light. Nara stood before him with her arms crossed over her waist. Slowly he looked up. His eyes locked with hers.
"You are a traitor, Jarron," Nara said. Jarron spat at her feet.
"You are a child who knows nothing," he hissed. Nara squatted next to him in the straw, studying his face.
"Why?" she asked. Jarron bared his teeth. The benevolent gaze she had grown up seeing was gone; replaced with hatred. "Why do you betray my mother so?"
"My sister was a fool to marry that coward. She should have never left her brethren."
"My mother married because she loves my father," Nara insisted. Jarron chuckled darkly.
"Did she truly love him?" he taunted. "I did your mother a favor when I killed her in her sleep. It was only a matter of finding the right poison."
The room spun. Nara rose shakily to her feet and stumbled back. Jarron laughed. Lord Telmar caught her arm and held her steady.
"Years I waited for the right moment to kill the king," he spat the word. "And when that Elf came," Jarron wheezed, "Oh, yes, " he said, seeing Nara's confusion, "I knew who he was the moment I laid eyes on him. The very same Elf whom my sister loved. He broke her heart when he left."
"Lies!" Nara shouted. Jarron ignored her.
"No one would suspect me of killing Eldarion and Narliana. Who would suspect the loving brother, always a loyal supporter of their king, and doting uncle of the beloved princess? I despised Eldarion! Every day my hatred grew while I played friend and counselor to the biggest fool in the kingdom." He coughed and blood ran down his chin. Horror struck Nara. Jarron grinned.
"War is coming. You cannot stop it. Gondor will burn." He fell forward screaming, clutching his throat as blood poured from his mouth.
"No!" Nara shouted. She rushed forward to help him. "Guards! Send for a healer." The guards pounded away. "Help me," Nara begged. Myrandir was at her side in an instant, holding Jarron down while he thrashed. Nara held her uncle's head in her hands. Lord Telmar stood by. Jarron's thrashing slowed. His eyes locked with Nara's and he smiled that same happy grin she knew so well.
"Uncle," Nara whispered.
"Forgive me. I am a fool." He thrusted his arm up, a small blade clenched tightly in his hand. Lord Telmar shouted and pushed Nara away. At the same time Myrandir pulled Jarron back. Lord Telmar tripped and plunged forward. Jarron's knife caught his throat.
"No!" Nara screamed. She pressed her hands over his bleeding neck in a desperate attempt to stem the blood flow. Myrandir ripped the blade from Jarron's hand and tossed it away. Hands bleeding from grabbing the blade, he found the vein in Lord Telmar's neck and pinched it closed. The bleeding slowed.
"Harad," Nara called Lord Telmar by his first name. Lord Telmar's eyes opened slowly. He reached up and gently touched her cheek. The motion caused Myrandir to lose his grip in the vein. Blood sprayed from the wound and covered their faces. Myrandir muttered darkly and quickly found the vein again. There was so much blood on the ground.
Jarron groaned. Nara glanced back at him. He was barely moving. Whatever he had done to himself was killing him.
Time passed slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Jarron no longer moved. Myrandir's hand had begun to cramped, but he did not dare move. Faintly Nara heard footsteps. Moments later three healers, dressed in white robes, descended upon them. They ignored Jarron, knowing he was dead. One of them took Myrandir's place. The Elf leaned back, clenching and unclenching his hand. Within minutes they had complete control over the cramped cell. Jarron's body was dragged away.
"Will he live?" Nara asked. The healer inspecting Lord Telmar's wound grunted in reply. Another answered for him.
"It is too early to tell," she said patiently. "He is a strong and fit man, but wounds like his are grave. Many do not survive. It was well you did what you did," she said to Myrandir who ignored her. He was watching the other two healers tend to his commander, eyes shining with worry.
"It would be best if you leave. Get cleaned and rest. I will send you news."
Nara nodded numbly. Myrandir took her arm and guided her out of the cell. Outside the cell, Jarron's body lay strewn on the ground. His skin was grey and flecked with dried blood. The sight overwhelmed Nara with rage.
How dare he rip away her parents. How dare he pretend to love her and grieve with her. His mocking laugh echoed in her ears. The death of her mother and father replayed before her eyes. Both were gone before their time at the hands of this man. Tears ran thick down her cheeks And mixed with the blood there. She stumbled and Myrandir caught her. Blindly she let him lead her away. She tripped several times until he picked her up and carried her to her room.
A young serving girl waited there. Her rounded eyes widened when the entered covered in blood.
"Is her highness hurt?" She asked timidly. The big Elf frightened her more than her father did. He was so big and bloody.
"No. Draw a bath," he said gently. The girl squeaked and rushed off. Myrandir set Nara on a nearby chair. She had fallen asleep cradled in his arms. "Nara," he said softly. "Come now." Her eyes fluttered open and he smiled. "There. I've sent a maid to draw a bath for you. I will be back with some food shortly."
Nara nodded. He stood up and left in search of the kitchen. The maid returned shortly and began preparing a bath. Nara was hardly aware of what happened during the next hour. When she came out Myrandir was sitting near the lit hearth watching the flames with one leg cocked up over the arm of the chair. He had found a clean shirt and had managed to clean the blood from his face and hands. A tray of untouched food sat on the table. A bowl of... something steamed next to the tray.
"Are you hungry?" Myrandir asked. He didn't look away from the fire. Nara shook her head. Words would not come to her. "Eat," the Elf spoke with such command that Nara sat down and began picking at the food. The tiny morsels turned flavorless on her tongue. After a few bites she sighed and pushed the tray away. Myrandir broke his trance and sat down across from her.
"I received word of Lord Telmar."
"Is he alive?" Nara asked eagerly.
"He will live, but it will be a long time before he is fully healed." Myrandir pushed the bowl of steaming liquid toward her. "Drink this. It will help."
Nara took the bowl, but she did not drink.
"What is this?"
"If you are not going to eat anything it will help you keep your strength for a time."
"What is it called?" Nara asked skeptically. Myrandir shrugged.
"Haven't the faintest idea what it is or what is in it." Myrandir gazed at her steadily.
"Who made it?" If she knew who made she might trust it. Recent events did not lend her to be overly trusting, especially with a near stranger, no matter what he'd done to help her or who he was. Myrandir's cheeks turned rosy. Nara thought he suddenly looked like a child.
"My wife did." He smiled sheepishly. "It's a powder you add to water or milk."
"Your wife?" Nara struggled to wipe the grin off her face. Myrandir nodded.
"We've been together seventy years about. Lanieth and I grew up together in Mithlond. Her father was a sailor and her mother was an astronomer." Myrandir faltered. "I have not seen her for seven years." He closed his eyes, picturing her fair hair and laughing eyes, her strong hands, the perfect child perched on her hip.
"You will come back, won't you?" Lanieth asked. Myrandir bent his head over hers, letting his hair shield them from the gathering crowd. Their foreheads pressed together.
"I always do."
"I cannot bear to have you leave us," Lanieth whispered. "Come back."
"No matter what," Myrandir replied. Lanieth smiled.
Myrandir broke from his thoughts and was once again the soldier Nara had first met.
"I will return to Mithlond when I find my brothers."
"And if you do not find them?"
"I will go home a failure."
***********************
Was that enough twists and turns for you? That got dark for a while there...
How do you all like Myrandir? He's a lot like Illeandir, but a little more open and about twice as happy... also not accident/injury prone. So y'all can relax there.
I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, but you guys have been ever so patiently waiting for this that I decided to quit working with it. Also because I was stuck for a good amount of time until yesterday when I may or may not have mentioned I was stuck... weirdly enough that brought me out of it...
Anyway! Enjoy and wait for the next part... who knows when that's coming.