To Spoil the Sun: 12. Ch.11: Breath

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12. Ch.11: Breath

Chapter 11: Breath

            "Keep up, brothers!"  Boromir shouted to Faramir and Haraduien who lingered behind him as they ran through the seven levels up to the top.

            "I do not think I have the heart to make it!"  Faramir wheezed to a stop.

            "Jump on, my lord."  Haraduien bent down, offering his back to the younger son of Denethor.  "No stalling!  Lord Boromir is winning!"  Faramir threw his doubts behind him and climbed on to his taller companion.  Haraduien let out a yelp of victory as he began to run up hill, doubling his speed.  He did not struggle much with the extra weight of Faramir for in his younger days he had often born the weighty carcasses of the stillborn Mûmakil and those not deemed strong enough to live into the desert to wait for the pecking of the scavengers. 

            As Haraduien passed him, Boromir grunted in frustration, trying desperately to increase his own speed.  "How?" he shouted at the young Haradrim.  "How… with my brother too?"

            "He weighs less than a horse, so I am fine."  He panted back over the chatter of the crowds, most of which were paying no attention to the men for they did this frequently.  "Fourth level!" he exclaimed with pride.  He slowed his pace, walking his speed off with Boromir not far behind him.  Letting Faramir down, he went to the well on his right and pulled up the bucket, nearly emptying it all down his throat.

            "Brother, save some for me!"  Boromir raced over, practically drowning himself with the water.  Coughing a little he turned to his companions with a satisfied grin.  "Well I call that successful.  Soon enough I will be able to run for days."

            "I doubt it," Haraduien snorted.  "You who has never thirsted.  Try hauling Mûmakil carcasses through the desert fast enough so that you are not eaten by an Asad." 

            "You hauling giant elephants through the desert with lions nipping at your ankles is quite a funny scene to imagine.  Why can that not happen here?"  Boromir took another drink.  "Besides, we sons of Denethor are not as barbaric as you, you insane Haradrim." 

            "My lords, ambassador," a soldier bowed to them individually.  He did not give more than a fleeting glance to the brothers, but gave his full attention to the political refugee in front of him.  "Haraduien Binthaidar?"

            "Yes, soldier," his accent curling about his words in sudden seriousness.

            "A letter for you."

            "From whom?"

            "The messenger said it hails from a woman in the North who called herself Omi.  She was also quoted as saying that if you did not recognize her by the name, she sent a poem.  It reads 'A bloody road has been paved, the sacred war begun; no one shall be saved, when He spoils the Sun.' Does that help, my lord?"

            "Yes," he whispered, his eyes narrowing in concentration.  Alatar.  But why?  After six years of no correspondence, why would she send a letter now?  "Can I have the letter please?"

            "Here you are."  And they were left.

            Opening the folded paper, he skimmed the letter, reading the curved symbols of the Haradaic alphabet.  "What does it say?" the brothers asked curiously.

            Taking a deep sigh, he began the solemn letter. 


            "My dear son, Haraduien.  Long has it been since I last had communication with you.  It seems that it has almost been seven years.  It is not that I did not wish to send word to you, but the enemy's movement in the south almost makes it impossible for any of my letters to actually reach you in a timely and safe manner without them being intercepted at least once.


            "You see, if any of this would fall into dangerous hands whether trusted or not, it could be quite disastrous.  So before you read any farther down, please address any inappropriate company for if you trust their ears and mouths, you trust them with your very life.

            "First items to inform you of are those of Eruain's years.  As you know, she was taken from you three years after you departed from each other nine years ago.  Since then her life has been quite chaotic.  She slaughtered her first born, a daughter she named Krahiya.  Her second born was born not a year later due to prematurely induced labor.  She named him Habib.  Her third and fourth were born three years later.  She named them Khalil and Imran.  She was quite unstable in the mind at that time.  Her urges were volatile and an example of this is that Khalil put a scar on Habib and she cut her son to pieces.  Her mind is no longer that of my daughter or of your love.  Something of her former self still does reside inside her because while we sleep she projects her dreams to us, showing us what she is dealing with.  Her son, Habib, also has such powers.  He has been able to send us information through such methods as well.  Habib is worshiped by Eruain, but does not obey her.  We believe he is loyal to our cause and most likely is because he witnessed his brother's murder.  He does not agree with the actions and thoughts of his mother and because she adores him so, he is not punished.  Imran, on the other hand, has a much darker soul.  Habib has made mention of this.  His brother not more than a year old has shown signs of insanity like his mother.  He had strangled the puppy she gave him.


            "So, enough of Eruain.  Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel and I are all working on a way to save her.  Lady Arwen and the Lords Elladan and Elrohir are held in the protection of Lothlórien, safe from searching recklessly for Eruain.  Lady Galadriel has informed us that although a poison has taken over Eruain's mind, she does seek escape, both from physical and mental cells.  So, we do not have much to work with, but we are making an effort.

            "What is required of you are patience and the support of Gondor.  If this oncoming storm is to be endured we must fortify our relations with the free people.  You are the key to Gondor, my son.  Yours, Alatar."  He folded the letter and put it inside his boot.

            "I am not sure that Gondor supports the desperation of the Elves.  Where are they while we fight on the frontlines?  Hiding in their woods?  No, we mortals do not receive help from the Elves unless one of them is in the enemy's hands."

            "Boromir, I do not think you are fully grasping the situation.  The Elves are becoming involved because the enemies you fight have found the last known bearer of Isildur's Bane.  You would risk injury to the world by not supporting those who seek to destroy Isildur's Bane.  I wish you would think things through some times before being so brash."  Haraduien crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the answer of the oldest brother.  Haraduien was the oldest of the men and the wisest; at least that is what he thought of himself as. 

            "I would risk injury to a culture that does not begin to fathom the lives and toils of men.  Yet they wish to save your beloved, why?  Why would any elf put their life on the line for a mortal in this age?" 

            "She does not just have my love.  Lord Elladan, son of Lord Elrond, wishes to be trothplighted with her.  She loves –"

            Faramir spoke quickly, almost like a child.  "But Haraduien, should she not marry you?  The one who loves her and who she loves in return?"

            "She has no heart for me.  Never has.  Yes, I would have wed her if we had stayed in Harad.  Alas, it is Fate's decision to allow such a noble elf as Lord Elladan to hold her love.  It's not just Fate's intervention though that requires that I no longer have love for her, it is also that I cannot remember her face."  Haraduien's shoulders slumped.  It was not something he was proud of.  He could remember his mother's face, but not Eruain's, not the face of the one he had loved most.  What a pitiful creature he was.

            "Do not worry, Haraduien.  I cannot remember my mother's face.  I was five when she died.  Do not feel bad about such things.  You cannot control –" Faramir's words were drowned out by a single shriek from a soldier who came riding past.

            "THEY ATTACK OSGILIATH!  ARMS!  WE MUST FIGHT!"  The soldier stopped briefly near them.  "My lords, I don't know how you want to address this, but it seems that the orcs are not led by one of the Nine but by a silver-haired elf and a Harad woman."

            "Eruain!"  Haraduien bolted again, towards the top level of Minas Tirith with the brothers following behind.  "We must go, my lords!"

            "Haraduien," Boromir panted as they reached the guest room where the Haradrim resided.  "Are you sure it is wise for you to go meet her in battle?"

            As he pulled his Hauberk on, he spoke softly.  "It is the only way to make sure she is safe.  I would rather that I would be the one to take her life than one of your soldiers.  She deserves the care I would give her in death that your men do not know.  We are different from you and your kind would willingly pierce her with an arrow and trample her body.  If I must kill her, I would make her my sword's sheath and then burn her body.  That is the only way."  As he finished speaking, almost all of his armor was on and he hastily strapped on his vambraces.  "I'll meet you on the frontlines."  And with that he hurried off, leaving the two brothers to ready themselves for battle.


            She slid from saddle of the fell beast she rode, landing on the hard, infertile ground outside Osgiliath.  Annatar followed suit and signaled his mount to land.  "Naraca!"

            "Yes, my lord," she bowed, her black robes flowing about as she did.  She had her war paint decorating her skin and she was bloodthirsty. 

            "Due to your current condition, I want you to take to the skies once more.  It is far too dangerous for you on the ground."  She really could not tell them apart, Annatar and Hurin.  But it could be because what Freya had said was true.  They were one in the same, not different people.  Eruain had come to accept both of them and cherished both of them. 

            "I would stay by my lord's side and honor him with a sword."  She rose from the bow.

            "No!  Do as I say, Naraca!" he barked. 

            "Yes, my lord."  She mounted the fell beast once more and urged it towards the heavens.  Delighting in the wind that passed from the force of its wings beating, she shrieked a terrible war cry.  She hovered over the city of Osgiliath, watching the soldiers of Minas Tirith pour forth from the gate.  It seemed like forever as the men of Gondor ran across the plain.  But soon enough, they were in range for the arrows to start flying and her to start catching. 

            She spied a young man with dark brown hair who helmet had been lost from a glancing blow he took to the head.  He struggled to retreat, but the orcs were far too many and started to swarm around him.  His comrades, several yards behind, let loose arrows.  Those arrows did pierce many of her underlings but two struck the young man.  He staggered as he looked at his fellow soldiers.  They had sacrificed him, used him as bait.  Swooping down, the fell beast collected the young man and rose hundreds of feet in the air.  Nimbly, she crawled across the saddle and down the neck, hanging upside down to see the young man.  "What's your name?"

            He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth as he made an effort to whisper, "Duilin."

            "I like that.  So, I shall help you die swiftly."  She smiled and rubbed the neck of the fell beast, signaling it to release her prisoner.  "Goodbye, Duilin."

            In the process of toying with her captive, her mount had dropped several hundred feet, in range for some archers to let arrows fly past her head.  Scrambling back into the saddle, she directed the beast towards the archers atop the ramparts.  She knocked some over and picked up three.  She released them over the city, hoping that they plummeted into another soldier, killing them as well.

            Gliding down, she stopped next to the parapet where Annatar barked orders from.  "How fares the battle, my lord?"

            "Our forces have reached the inner walls of the city.  Soon it will be ours.  What have you been doing?"

            "Killing as you wished me to.  From the skies."

            "Stop playing.  This is not a game.  Just kill as many as you can."

            "Yes, my lord."  She took to the heavens once more, circling like a crow above the city and pouncing down onto groups of soldiers as a cat would a mouse.  As she spiraled above, she could barely make out that a group of men had reached Annatar, a dark haired, dark-skinned man shouted orders to them from behind.  "Hurin!" she screamed as a sword cut his bicep, diving almost immediately as she saw it.  Swiftly she was upon them, sliding off the back of her mount and into the fray of soldiers. 

            "Get back," Haraduien shouted in Westron, halting his troops as the young woman growled in front of the elf, defending him.  A slight bulge in her robes confirmed his fears.  Of course, she was pregnant.  And this was the father, whom she would protect until her last breath was drawn.  "Eruain, welcome," he called out in Haradaic.

            "Haraduien, why are you trying to kill my husband?  I am Shamsa.  Qamar must obey Shamsa.  Order your men back into the city to be slaughtered in front of their wives, dying noble but tragic deaths."

            "As poetic as that sounds, Eruain, I cannot allow that.  And as we have both left our blessed land, you have no hold over me.  You are just Eruain and I am just Haraduien.  I have forsaken my title as Qamar as I have forsaken Shams."  Drawing his shamshir, he weaved it delicately through the air.  "I have no qualm with you, Shamsa, but I do have a score to settle with the elf you guard."

            "I will not be moved."

            "I present to you my life, Master elf.  Should I lose it in a duel against you, my spirit will be satisfied that I died at the hands of such a worthy foe.  Should I keep it and take yours, I will take your wife with me and you shall have your forces retreat from this broken city."  Haraduien kneeled and cut his finger, smearing blood along his blade and on his face.  "What say you to a duel?"

            "I would not risk it, Haradrim.  Instead, my lovely wife, who is so eager to meet you in battle, shall fulfill that role."  Annatar ordered his troops to retreat from the city.  "Should she win, my force shall cross the borders of the city once more and the fighting shall commence once more.  Should she lose, my force will still attack, but you will have the black mark of killing an unborn child.  Choose your fate, Haradrim."

            He dropped slowly into a wide stance, never breaking his gaze on Eruain.  She released her robes from their bindings, revealing lion's fur undergarments and a swelled stomach.  Crouching much lower than him, she began to study his movements.  She drew an elven blade, long, delicate and curved.  Drawing her hand over the blade, she smothered it in her blood.  Circling him, she waited for him to make the first move.  Unfortunately for her, his attack was hard and quick, leaving her barely an instance to block it.  Swinging her sword forward in a swift motion, she tried to land a blow on his shoulder but was easily blocked.  "Eruain, I'm disappointed.  Has motherhood weakened you?  I remember you being slightly accomplished at swordsmanship."  He lunged and nicked her bicep.  "Is your unborn child inhibiting you?"

            "Shut up.  Just shut up!  You abandoned me!  You know nothing of my life!"  In anger, she clumsily dove towards him, angling her sword towards his chest.  He knocked it aside as if it were a fly, and caught her wrists.  Holding her tightly, he forced her sword to drop and brought her to his chest, holding his shamshir against her neck. 

            His eyes softened as he watched her, deranged and thrashing to get away from him.  "Eruain," he mumbled gently.  "Can I not help you?"

            "Haraduien!  What are you doing?  The enemy has withdrawn.  We should push their forces further back."  Boromir and Faramir finally joined them on the parapet.  The older one was the one who called out to him and was now watching as he gripped the exotic woman close to him.  She was truly a beauty in their eyes, scandalous but beautiful.  He could not help but notice the black snake that wound up her body, observing the way it looked as it circled her stomach in such a way as if it was constricting around her unborn child. 

            Haraduien kept mumbling in Haradaic calming words.  As he did so, he was drowned out by the loud roaring of the fell beast that hovered next to the rampart.  He watched in horror as Annatar leapt on the beast, acknowledging his departure with, "Murder her quickly, would you?  I have no place in my court for the weak minded."  With a gust of wind, he left for his army.

            "My lord!  Hurin!  Hurin!" Eruain's voice was hoarse with desperation, screaming after the elf she loved.  "Why?  You said that you'd always be with me!  Where are you now?!"  She looked around, frightened. 

Fixing her eyes on the wall of the parapet, she smiled.  "I found you, my love."  She struggled once more against Haraduien who could not help but pity her declining sanity.  Letting her go, he watched her touch the air as if it was Hurin.  She smiled and smiled.  "Of course my love."  In dismay, he moved towards her as she mounted the wall, preparing to jump.  He ran, but was too late; he watched her body disappear over the wall.  As he neared the wall, he was forced back by a gust of wind summoned up by Annatar's fell beast.  He watched as the forces of Mordor withdrew and Annatar rode off with Eruain.

He let out a scream of utter frustration as he dropped to his knees.  "That is the second time I have had to watch her fly away from me," he told to the brothers standing next to him.  "Next time, I will not make it a third."


            "Yes, you deserve this, love," Annatar frowned in disappointment as he threw his consort into the largest cell in the dungeons.  "I have tired of you already.  I really thought you would give better sport.  I was wrong."

            "My lord?  My lord!"  She watched his back retreat, calling out for him desperately.

            "We are going to rot down here."

            "What did you say?"  She swiveled around to find Habib carefully whittling a piece of wood into the shape of a snake. 

            "We're going to die in this very cell, Omi.  He does not want us."  Habib frowned, his frown looking just like his father's.  They were so alike: silvery-blonde hair, light blue eyes, the same nose and mouth.  His color was hers though.  "You failed him…again."

            Grasping Habib by the throat she squeezed slightly.  "I did NOT fail him.  I cannot fail him.  She was the only failure, ever!  He wants us still.  We are precious to him.  You are his heir."  Releasing him, she whispered, "I am sorry, baby, but you have to respect your father.  Please do not speak so harshly about him.  You do not know what you are saying."

            "Imran is sleeping in a box in the back.  If you cared to know…" 

            Going to her youngest son, she picked him up, talking to his sleeping form to help settle her mind.  "Imran, Omi has a question for you.  Why does your older brother hate Omi so?  Omi adores Habib, but Habib loathes her.  Do you know why?  Do you know why his mind is poisoned so?"  She stroked the dark hair of her son.  He looked like her; dark hair, dark skin, gray eyes.  The ears are what gave him away as Annatar's son.  "Is Omi undesirable by Habib?"

            "You are overreacting, Omi.  I do not hate you.  I love you," Habib whispered quickly into the lingering dark of the flickering candle, staring at the faint silhouette of his mother and younger brother.  "You killed Khalil in my name, though.  I cannot help but have feelings of disappointment and horror towards you, you whose mind has been warped by the Masked Man."

            "Do not say another word, Habib!  Or I will slaughter you as well, no matter how much I love you.  I love your father more and you are blaspheming his name."  Eruain huffed in annoyance and settled upon the rough bed in the corner after placing Imran back in his box.  "Come sleep when you have some warmth in your breast for your mother and father."  With the darkness as her witness, she whispered, "I hope he comes for you tonight, my son."

            But Hurin did not come for Habib.  He came for Eruain.  Again she was shackled to the wall, positioned across from three kneeling and hooded people.  "And here we are again.  Six years of the same game and you have managed to kill seventy-six innocent people.  Tonight, we've raised the stakes because of your little failure.  We also seem to have an audience.  Somehow someone has been leaking them information and they've managed to weasel their way into my world." 

            "Hurin, my lord, how did I fail you?"  She was confused.  She lived and had not submitted to Haraduien.  What had she done wrong?

            "I am not sure how to tell you this, but the child that grows within you is going to be stillborn.  I cannot hear its tiny heartbeat.  You have failed to give life to a Child of the Dark.  And you've killed two of the ones that were successfully brought into this world.  One of the ones still alive hates you and allies himself with the enemy.  And the other is just a babbling little boy who understands nothing.  I would call this failure."

            Hanging her head in defeat she could see that she was not worth keeping.  It was not strange for Annatar to get rid of her for she was worthless and was only a failure.  "Okay.  Let's play."

            "Eager, dear?  Good, because I have a treat for you."  Motioning to his left, he drew her eyes to other shackles.  Those shackles were encased about her friends and family.  All of them were there: Alatar, Suladân, Elrond, Bilbo, Glorfindel, Elrohir, and Arwen.  Haraduien and Elladan were not among them.  "And the cowls disappear…"  Hurin revealed the faces of the ones she had to choose from to kill.  She had to choose between Haraduien, Elladan, and Habib.

            Choking in a strangled cry, she could not fathom how she would be able to choose between her best friend, her love, and her child.  "Hurin, why?" she whimpered.

            "It's fun, my dear.  Now should I read to you their crimes?"

            "Please."  Anything to delay her choice.

            "Haraduien: formerly Qamar.  He is charged with the forsaking of Shams and of Shamsa.  He has betrayed his country and deserves death.  Elladan: son of Elrond.  He is guilty of abandoning his love, suicide attempts, and the desire to forsake his kin and immortality.  His crimes are punishable by death.  Habib: our son.  He hates his mother and father.  He has leaked information to the enemy and plots to kill Annatar and myself.  It would be a motion of justice if he would be executed."  Hurin sat in corner, next to the mute audience she had.  "Go on choose.  Oh, and there will be no weapon today, just your hands, love."

            Walking towards her most loved people in the world, she knelt before each of them.  While her mind was unable to withstand the poison it received from Annatar, within her subconscious, during these nightmares, she could almost regain her sanity.  Taking Haraduien's face in her hands, she whispered in Haradaic, "I am sorry if I have ever caused you heartbreak or injury.  I should have not been so cruel to you, but I was.  Please forgive me.  I am glad you have forsaken Shamsa, because I am not worthy of it."

            Moving on, she started to cry as she pressed her lips to Elladan's in a desperate manner.  Breaking the kiss she mumbled in broken Sindarin.  "I do not care anymore that you abandoned me.  You could not help me, no matter how hard you tried.  I still… I want to be your bride.  Someday I will."

            "Habib," her voice cracked.  How could she possibly kill her child?  She had done it before.  But Habib…  Her mind was not tainted so in this world that Hurin had created.  But could she choose her child, illegitimate child, over her longest known friend and her soul mate?  She could.  Placing a kiss on Habib's forehead, she whispered lovingly, "It will not be you."

            Rising, she turned towards Hurin, bowing.  "My lord, I have made my decision.  May I proceed?"

            "Go ahead."  Her mute audience was screaming silent screams, trying to persuade her not to kill.  But they fell on deaf ears for she paid them no heed, not even acknowledging that they were there.  She left Habib's side.

            She stopped in front of Elladan.  "You trust me?  I do not think so."  It was not him.

            Haraduien sighed as she moved on to him.  Of course it would be him.  He was of her same mind and kin.  They had grown up together and loved each other deeply.  He was the only one he could trust to kill him.  She knew exactly how he wanted her to act as she squeezed the life from him.  He would give her the strength to complete the task, accepting his death nobly.  He would not show fear in his eyes, knowing that is where she would looking.  They had duties to one another and those would be fulfilled by killing the other.  "Eruain."

            "Akhi.  Akhi, I'm scared," her voice trembled as she rested her head on his shoulder.  "I am scared you will not forgive me."

            "Hush, little one.  I have always forgiven you, because I love you and I will continue to do both through death.  You are doing me a favor.  You are sending me home to Shams.  My little Shamsa," he kissed her, gently and grief-filled, on the lips.


            Her voice broke with a sob as her fingers slid around his throat.  "Akhi, do me a favor?"

            "Anything, my love."

            "Do not look away.  Stare at me.  I want to see you when you die."  She began the process.  Whispering broken Quenya and Haradaic, she consoled him as he choked and struggled slightly.  She brought her lips to his over and over again, calming him.  She was drowning him with love for the first time.  And he could only adore her.  That was why it had to be him.  As she felt his breath getting shallower and more desperate, she began to weep.  The look in his eyes told her to continue and to stop crying, but she could not.  She had not the heart to stop.  In a last act of love, she sang for him in Sindarin the one hymn of passing she knew: the hymn to Elbereth. 

"Fanuilos heryn aglar

Rîn athar annún-aearath

Calad amen i reniar

Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath!

A Elbereth Gilthoniel

I chin a thûl lin míriel

Fanuilos le linnathon

Ne ndor haer thar i aearon.

A elin na gaim eglerib

Ned în ben-anor trerennin

Si silivrin ne herth 'waewib

Cenim lyth thílyn thuiennin."

He was dead.  Shams' light was gone from his eyes.  As she cradled his dead body against her chest, she sobbed.  He had been loyal to her in the end.  How could such reckless love overcome the amassing hate and poison that tainted her and the world of Men?  Through the darkness, she heard a piercing scream, wailing uncontrollably.  It was her voice that tore through the silence.  Anguish pouring from her very soul.

 As she wept, a light encased her and Haraduien.  Elbereth had answered her.  She rose and turned towards Hurin, eyes blazing.  Her gaze held him in place and as she neared him, she could feel fear radiating off of him.  She placed her hand gently on his forehead, searing him with the light.  He screamed in the Black Speech, foul and like the Nazgûl.  She continued to sing the hymn to Elbereth softly under her breath.  Ripping the mask from his face, she saw that he was in fact Annatar, his white-gold locks changing from black before her eyes.  She stopped singing as she gripped his face with both of her hands.  She shrieked loudly in Haradaic, "Never again may you pollute my mind with this world!  I am a slave no longer!"  And he was gone.

Breathing heavily, she collapsed, clutching her swollen stomach.  Habib ran to her, stumbling with his bounds.  "Omi!"  He pressed his face to her chest, crying and did not stop.  Soon he was joined by the others, who gathered about the dazed woman.  Speaking in every language, she was overwhelmed with their voices, some angry, some sad. 

"STOP IT!  Please just stop…"  She could not take it any longer.  "Please just kill me as well."

The crowd about her parted as Elladan bent down to her.  "Eruain.  Why must more blood be spilt for Annatar?  Stay strong.  I have no comforting words for you."  He just placed his hand on top of hers as she cried.  Holding strong to her, he was the last one to depart from her nightmare.  Before he left, he brought her to stand before him, holding her hands still. 

"Gi melin, Eruain.  And that will never change.  I will love you through death," he echoed Haraduien's words.

"Save me!  Please save me.  Gi melin.  I want to live with you.  I want to love you as your bride.  Please, just save me."  She whimpered against him, holding her unborn child with her arms.  "Would you accept me?  In this broken and soiled form?  I am not a virgin.  My children are not yours.  Can you accept me?"

"How could I not, my love?  For six years I have suffered without you.  When given a chance to be with you forever, I would take it as those six years have seemed like six eternities.  Wait for me.  For I am coming."  He released her and turned towards the lifeless body of Haraduien.  "He is not dead."  And Elladan was gone.

Rushing in desperation to Haraduien she pressed her ear to his chest listening for life.  It came once, and she thought it was her mind once again fooling her.  When his chest rose in a struggled breath, she could not believe it.  His eyes slid open and he smiled weakly at her.  "Next time, just kill me quickly and correctly," his whispered, his voice hoarse.  "You just –"  She stifled him with a forceful kiss.  "You could let me breath," he mumbled.

"How are you still alive?  I killed you.  I know I did!"

"You did," he replied heavily.  "But you foolishly sang the hymn to Elbereth.  Such sorrow awakened your Istari blood.  Alatar is known as the Great Healer.  It was said once that she had the power to bring back one whom had been dead for a year.  You must have her healing abilities just as I have my mother's combat prowess.  I'm not dead."

"Haraduien," she smiled, kissing him over and over again, happy and content he was alive.  But it was not to last as he murmured to her.

"Elladan would probably not want his betrothed to be kissing me.  Anyways you need to wake up.  If we stay here much longer, I fear that your time has been sped up once again.  Who knows what Annatar has done to you while you've been in this dark?  Go now.  For I am leaving."  He hugged her tightly, before disappearing like Elladan had. 

Forcing herself awake, she could feel constraints on her arms and legs.  Smiling at her wickedly through the dim light, Annatar wielded a small blade, carving intricate patterns on her back and arms and legs.  "Welcome, my love, to the play room."

Chapter End Notes:
Translation for Hymn of Elbereth:
Snow White! Snow White! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander there
Amid the world of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright is breath,
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea!
O Stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by thee were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas
(Taken from this is what it should sound like:
Omi is Quenya for mother
Gi melin is I love you in Sindarin.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: PlaguedPorcelain

Status: General

Completion: Work in Progress

Era: 3rd Age - Ring War

Genre: Drama

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 09/24/12

Original Post: 08/10/11

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