Mud stuck to and sucked at his boots, a relentless force of wet, gritty, stinky nature. Scowling, Robin yanked his foot from a deep sinkhole, struggling to keep up with the others. The only one going slower than him was Thralor, who hadn't stopped cursing for a straight hour.
If the plan had to been to get through most of the marshes during the day, it wasn't going well. They'd been walking for nearly half the day and had barely made a dent in the distance. Robin could practically feel the tension in the air; he wasn't the only who realized this.
Forcing his other foot forward, he bit back a few choice curses of his own. Eru. Mordor. Morgoth's silmaril.
Legolas, Elanor, Aragorn, and Gimli all walked ahead, obviously deep in discussion. Robin had no doubt it was over the upcoming plans-- he gritted his teeth at being left out.
If he was going to be the bait, he'd at least be better at his job if he knew what was going on. He didn't like being left in the dark.
Behind them, Elladan and Elrohir walked together, like always. Aria stuck in between him and Thralor, the dark expression on her face an obvious representation of how she was feeling at the travel through the marshes.
Robin was starting to wish that they would have just taken the long route and gone around.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips together, whistling a tune that had gotten him through many long, boring nights alone. With the cool air on his face and the companions gone from his sight, it almost seemed like he was free again.
Free and on his own.
If only.
Slowly, he opened his eyes again-- to see every pair of eyes watching him. Abruptly, he stopped whistling and scowled. "What?"
Legolas raised his eyebrows, turning back away. But Aragorn continued to stare. "I know that tune."
Robin scowled deeper. "No, you don't."
"I do."
Irritation rose in his throat-- even the simple words that the man spoke irked the Mordor out of him. "My father wrote the song. He only played it for me and my mother."
But Aragorn's brows had drawn together. Then suddenly, his face cleared. "There was a man who would play that tune around the fire. During..." He trailed off, realization filling his eyes. "Before each battle during the War of the Ring."
Inwardly, Robin cursed himself. Outwardly, he clenched his jaw so hard his teeth gnashed, looking away.
He didn't even know what to say. My adar was no man.
He could feel the king still watching him but refused to look back up, mucking ahead. The others slowly followed and after a long moment, Aragorn looked away, starting again.
The day continued to wear on.
The darker the sky above continued to get, the colder the air became. Robin swore he could hear voices on the air too-- haunting whispers and faint whistles.
The others didn't seem very comfortable either. Elanor kept shifting her bow back and forth between her hands, her gaze flicking from puddle of water to puddle of water. Legolas's face was tight, as if he could hear the very same voices Robin could.
It was the cries of the dying. The screams of the tortured.
There were lights on the horizon. The deeper into the marshes they traveled, the brighter they became. Robin had seen them before.
Soon, they would be in the middle of the battleground territory. That would be where they'd have the hardest time continuing on. He knew from experience.
The song he'd whistled continued to spin through his mind, followed by Aragorn's claim of recognition. Robin remembered every single night that he'd convince his adar to sit by the fire and play-- plucking strings of his harp in a calm and soothing melody.
He didn't like the idea that someone else knew the tune. It was almost like he'd lost a piece of his father.
Robin clenched his jaw. If his father could see him now.
"The dead have no rest here," Legolas whispered ahead. His voice trailed back with the wind.
Beside the blond ellon, Gimli scratched at his beard. "This was the place of a battle, was it not? I don't remember the stories, honest."
"It was The Battle of Dagorlad," Robin voiced. The others turned but he dismissed their curious stares, continuing. "It was a battle between the Last Alliance and the forces of Mordor eons ago. Hundreds of Gondorian and Easterling men and boys alike died here. They were never buried, just..." He motioned around. "Swallowed by the marshes."
"I've heard stories," Elanor added. "Of spirits and ghosts."
Thralor scoffed at that, but the Ranger shot him a dark glare. "I'm not twisting my words. The dead never received peace, so they've never left Middle Earth."
"We've seen the werewolves," Elrohir mumbled. "I wouldn't pass on ghosts. Though I do hope we get a night of peace."
Robin didn't say anything but he did agree with the ellon.
Peace would be nice.
Eventually, they paused to light torches. There was no dry wood within an entire days walk of the wet marshes, but Elanor and Aria had each carried enough wood for everyone to have one. The warmth was welcome, as well as the light that opened up their path.
Robin's legs ached. But he would rather lose a limb than stop to rest for the entire night in the marshes.
Suddenly, a sharp cry behind them broke the night air. Almost dropping his torch and drawing his sword, Robin whirled around.
It was Thralor.
The bald-headed dwarf gazed into one of the many ponds, his normally hard and tight face turned in a look of horror. His entire face, all the way to the top of his bald head, was pale.
Gimli brushed past Robin, racing over to his brother. But the second his eyes fell on the pond, his face went white as well.
"Thralor?" Aragorn stepped forward. "What is it?"
"T-- t-- there are--" The dwarf stuttered off, his mouth hanging open.
Robin's stomach dropped.
"There are faces in the water," Gimli finished, his voice unnaturally quiet. "Don't you see them?"
Eru.
Robin knew exactly what they were talking about, already turning away. But he could see them in the other bodies of water now-- faint, glowing faces. Faces of the dead. The lights. Don't follow the lights.
"We need to keep moving," Aria said stiffly. She wasn't looking either, face drawn tight. "The marshes have to end soon."
Beside her, Elanor nodded, swallowing hard. She looked nauseous.
"So many of my ancestors died here," Aragorn murmured. He turned in a half circle, pained eyes going across each surface of the water.
"Now isn't the time to pause, Estel," Elrohir prodded the king's side. "Let's go."
Robin was already moving. If the others wanted to stay behind and talk about family trees and ancestors, that was their choice. But he wanted out. He'd already been here once-- he had never wanted to come back.
They'd reach the edge by sunrise if they just kept moving.
The moon faded as a thick grey mass of dark clouds crossed the sky. Faintly, the breeze picked up, carrying with it the voices and cries of the dead. A thick mist rolled across the marshes.
They sounded louder than before.
"Wilin."
He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.
"Wilin."
This voice was different. It wasn't a simple cry of a foreign soul, somewhere in the wind. Craning his neck, Robin turned in a full circle.
He couldn't see the others.
The mist had thickened in less than a minute, so quickly that Robin barely had a chance to blink before he could barely see ten feet in front of him. It smelled of sulfur and death, cutting off his air and pressing against his face.
It felt surprisingly warm, like a human touch. But also evasive, like the spirits themselves.
"Wilin."
Suddenly, he saw her.
The elleth maiden stood not five feet before him, pale skin glowing with the faintest of white hues. Long, silken black hair tumbled all the way down to her waist, moving slightly with the breeze. She adored a gown of pure white, a thin smile tinting her lips.
Robin's blood froze, his heart dropping to his boots. "Naneth?"
Suddenly, he was a child again, sitting with his back to the fire. He would watch his mother sew for hours, fascinated by the way the silver needles created a picture of fine silken threads. If his father wasn't around to play, she would sing or tell stories, her voice soft like his harp.
But then he was standing in the middle of his burning village, watching the sword enter her chest. Watching the pain in her eyes as she fell to her knees, blood staining the surrounding dirt. Watching as the light faded from her eyes.
"No," he shook his head, taking a step back. "You're not here."
"But I am, ion-nin," she took a step forward, holding out a single, beckoning hand. It was her smile, her eyes. Her voice. "Come with me."
Robin clenched his jaw. "Where?"
"To a place beyond this world," she didn't draw her hand back-- holding it there, suspended in the air. Palm open and inviting. One simple touch and part of him knew he'd never face morning light again.
But would that be so bad?
"Your father awaits, my son," her voice was a song. He could hear his whistling tune in the air, coming from somewhere he couldn't see. "Come with me."
Robin gripped his sword tighter, but couldn't bring himself to raise it. Instead, he shook his head, blinking hard. "You're not here."
Her hand wavered. Sadness flickered through her green eyes. "Ion-nin..."
"No," Robin interrupted. His throat was so tight, it felt like he couldn't get a breath. Tears pricked at his eyes. "Daro. Saese."
Somewhere in the mist, a shattered scream broke the air, cutting off the song and breaking the spell. It sounded like Elanor-- a shout quickly followed. Elladan, perhaps?
He realized they would be looking for each other.
Would they be looking for him?
His mother seemed to be glowing brighter, her face twisting slightly. No longer were her features as still and beautiful as he remembered, but more distorted. Grotesque. "You are all alone, Wilin. They don't care if you vanish this night. They don't care if you leave. But I do. Come with me. Come home."
Home. Oh, how he missed it.
Don't follow the lights. Don't follow the lights. He knew.
But Robin felt himself talking a step forward before he realized his body was betraying him. Partly, he didn't want to fight it. He wanted to go home. He wanted to sit beside the fire once more, to listen to his father play. He wanted to hold his little sister's hands, to show her the rights and wrongs growing up and to teach her how to hunt and fight.
Your father awaits, she'd promised. But did his unborn sister?
His mother's hand was still outstretched.
Don't follow the lights. He knew he shouldn't take it. But still, he did.
His mother's touch was cold. One of ice. It snapped him back to reality but before Robin could draw away, strong, gnarled fingers wrapped around his own. He looked up, startled, into a face devoid of green eyes and a soft smile-- but stringy, oily hair.
It was a man's face, lost of his left eye and with gashes missing from his cheek and neck. Where his left eye should have been was a hole going straight through his skull, a crooked grin revealing rotting teeth.
Come home, Wilin.
His sensed screamed with panic and alarm, then. Yanking his blade up, Robin cut straight through the arm of the spirit, the feeling sickening as if it was actual flesh.
The ghoul screamed-- a shattering, dismal sound of utter pain and loss. For a moment, Robin could hear every unsaid word behind his gruesome face and cry. I want to go home.
Then the waters glowed a bright white and the mist swirled away. When Robin blinked, the spirit was gone.
As were the faces in the water. The moon shone down from the sky, a crescent white that reflected off the marsh waters.
"Robin? Robin!"
He almost leaped out of his skin as a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders-- then abruptly drew away, just as quick. Elanor's eyes were wide, as if she'd just seen another ghost.
"S-- sorry."
He could only stare in answer.
"Durin's beard, we thought you were dead, laddie," Gimli stepped forward. His face was still white, eyes hollow despite the joking tone in his voice. Robin faintly wondered what he'd seen.
"I... I'm still here," he managed. "Lucky for you all."
Elrohir rolled his eyes. But beside him, Elladan was unusually quiet. As was Thralor and Aria-- they all looked shaken up.
Legolas had his elven blade out. It looked actually bloody.
"Can we go, now?" Elanor spoke up, still drawn away from him. She didn't even look his way. "Before something else happens?"
"The edge of the marshes isn't much farther," Robin forced the words out. He still felt like there was a hand squeezing his throat. "I remember from my last trip through here. We can make it by morning."
Aragorn gave him a strange look-- Robin might have placed it as respect if he hadn't known better. "Let's keep going, then."
It was a silent, mutual agreement. Something that hadn't happened in their group of nine before.
But even as the others started through the marshes again, torches relit and weapons drawn out, Robin hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. He swore he heard the tune again, faintly and quickly through the air.
There was a tall figure, too far away to see very well. But it was clearly an elf, with dark raven hair and golden armor.
Robin blinked slowly, his heart pounding. "Adar?"
But the figure didn't move. Didn't speak. Only stood there.
The most painful thing was that Robin knew it wasn't real. It wasn't even a spirit or a trick of the mist-- it was his own eyes. His own lies.
His own wish.
"Robin?" Elanor's voice sounded from ahead.
"Yeah," Robin didn't turn though, still staring. "I'm coming."
Then the figure was gone.
Tears pricked at his eyes with more pain than his entire body screamed with as he forced himself to move again. But Robin forced them away, starting after the others.
The tune sounded again. In his head, or in the air, he didn't know.
It reminded him of home.
Translations:
Saese: please
Ion-nin: my son
Daro: stop
*climbs nervously on stage* Hello...!
I'll be honest, I opened the document for this chapter pretty dang unsure what I was going to write, what was going to happen, or how it was going to unfold. But one thing led to another and I REALLY wanted to finish it, so... here we are!
It was actually quite fun! There are some very entertaining scenes coming up too though, that I am super pumped for.
How are you all? How goes life? Done anything fun lately?
Discussion starter: the marshes are finally out of the way! Our fellowship is almost to Rhun... what awaits them there? It'll be quite a fun time, that's for sure!