Chapter
8
Thaliatar
and Mellachion were the two elves Glorfindel had assigned to
accompany Lindir and the other minstrels. They were both experienced
and respected members of the Imladris guard, though in this
case they were mostly a token gesture, as no one really expected
any trouble.
They
had taken a walk round the town, familiarising themselves with
the layout before heading to the accommodation they'd been provided
with to get some rest. Suddenly, Thaliatar stopped. "Do
you smell that?" He asked. Mellachion frowned. "There
are many new smells here. Which one do you mean?" He replied.
"Dirt." Came the answer. "Many unwashed bodies.
This is a good town - that smell does not belong here. Something
is wrong, we should check on the others."
Mellachion
wasn't convinced, humans were so different from them, but it
was better to be safe than sorry, so he followed Thaliatar to
the minstrel's quarters.
As
they neared they saw that the door was open and that several
large men stood inside it. Mellachion glanced at Thaliatar and
saw his own look of concern mirrored on the other's face.
Without
a word they both began to run, arriving just in time to see
Lindir slump to the floor.
"Lindir!" Mellachion cried out and drew his sword.
He moved swiftly, Thaliatar close behind him, cutting down two
of the men.
Thaliatar also cut down two more, but they were greatly outnumbered.
Mellachion
lunged at one of the bandits, bringing his sword down in a powerful
blow.
It took the man's head clean from his shoulders, but as he moved
to lunge at another, a sword bit deeply into his side.
He cried out, dropping his weapon and clutching his side.
"Mella!" Thaliatar tried to battle through the humans
to reach the fallen elf, but there were too many in his way.
"No, Thal!" Mellachion called. "You must get
help! Leave me!" But Thaliatar ignored him, determined
to get through. He was ever aware of the sword hanging over
Mellachion's head. Drawing his bow, he sent an arrow into the
heart of the man holding the sword, buying Mellachion at least
a little time.
"Thel,
you must get to Imladris!" Mellachion cried. "Please,
meleth nin, go!"
It was the endearment that stopped Thaliatar. Mellachion had
never called him thus out loud before, they had always kept
their relationship a secret as they worked so closely together.
Casting one last look at the elf he loved, he nodded briefly,
then turned and ran. He hated to do it, to leave Mellachion,
but he knew his lover was right - there was nothing he could
do alone. His mission now was to make it back to Imladris and
get help.
The
men gave chase as they saw him running, but Thaliatar was faster.
Several arrows flew his way, one hitting his arm, but he ignored
the pain. Fortunately the men were poor shots, though Thaliatar
knew it would only take one lucky arrow to send him to Mandos
hall and doom the others to the same fate.
Letting
out a piercing whistle he kept going, getting closer to the
edge of the village, knowing that the men were catching up.
The sound of hoof beats told him that his mount had heard his
call and was coming, but he had to keep running until she arrived
and hope that he didn't fall.
The
elven-horse's hoof beats got closer, then she came easily alongside
him, slowing a little to allow her rider chance to get on. Grabbing
her mane, Thaliatar swung himself on the animal's back, of the
still-moving animal. He shrieked in pain as an arrow embedded
itself deeply in his calf, but clung desperately to his mount,
riding with all haste to Rivendell.
**************
Helethir
raged when he realised that the elf had escaped. "You fools!"
He yelled. "If he makes it to the others they'll all be
after us!" He kicked Mellachion, who was lying prone on
the ground, making the elf moan softly.
"What shall we do with this one?" One of the men asked.
"Finish him off?"
Helethir regarded the elf coldly. "No." He said. "Throw
him in with the others. They can do nothing - let them watch
him die."
The man laughed, then carelessly tossed Mellachion into the
hut.
**************
Looking
out of his window, Elrond saw Thaliatar riding through the gates.
Letting out a cry of alarm at the sight of the injured elf,
he ran out, calling to Glorfindel, who was down the hall, for
aid.
Thaliatar
had feared he would never reach Imladris. His horse was exhausted
and so was he; the arrow wounds in his arm and leg were throbbing.
He was clinging to his horse by sheer force of will as he finally
rode into the courtyard.
Glorfindel
quickly answered his lord's cry and together the two elves rushed
to the side of the injured elf, Glorfindel gently lifting Thaliatar
from his horse.
The
injured elf bit back a cry as his injuries were jolted, stopping
Glorfindel's question as to what had happened.
"We must get him to the healers." Elrond said. Glorfindel
nodded, but Thaliatar reached out with his good arm, stopping
him.
"M-my lord." He stuttered. "The others... they
were attacked in the village... you must go after them!"
Elrond sucked in a sharp breath and looked at Glorfindel, who
cursed softly.
"Was anyone hurt?" He asked. "Where is Mellachion?"
"They beat Lindir." He said softly. "Mellachion
- he fell - I don't know if he lives or not." He choked
back a sob.
Glorfindel
bit back a stab of guilt. He'd known the two were lovers; it
had been his intent to give them some time alone together. As
for Lindir - they had to save the minstrel and his companions.
Glorfindel hoped he wasn't the one who would have to tell Rúmil.
*********************
Rúmil
had spent most of the day alone by the river. Now as he returned
to the house, he was surprised to see the amount of activity
taking place. A large party of warriors were ready to ride out,
Orophin and the twins amongst them. Confused and with a terrible
fear growing inside him, he approached his brother, tapping
him on the shoulder and gesturing around in confusion.
Orophin
jumped at the touch. " Rúmil!" He cried, turning
to face him. "Where have you been?" His brother gestured
vaguely in the direction of the river, and then returned his
attention to the confusion around him.
Shooting
a worried look at Elladan, Orophin took his brother aside.
"Rúmil, Thaliatar returned a little while ago."
He paused, knowing his next words might break his brother's
already fragile heart.
"Bandits have attacked the town Lindir went to - they're
holding him and the others hostage."
All
colour drained from Rúmil's face. He stared in terrified
horror at Orophin, shaking his head.
Pulling Rúmil into his arms, Orophin did his best to
comfort him.
"Glorfindel is leading a patrol to rescue them. I'm going
too, so are the twins. We'll bring him back, Rúmil -
I swear it." He could not bring himself to tell Rúmil
he knew that Lindir had been beaten - it would only make matters
worse.
He lightly kissed his brother's brow and stepped back. "I
must be going - try not to worry, all will be well." Then
he moved to his horse and mounted, following the rest of the
party as they rode out.
As
they left, Orophin cast a last look at his brother.
"Lindir had better be alive." He said quietly to Elladan.
" Rúmil won't survive without him."
*************************
Lindir
moaned at the pounding in his head. Blinking as he tried to
clear his vision, he forced himself into a sitting position,
but closed his eyes as the world span around him.
"Here,
drink this, it will help." Said a quiet voice beside him.
Forcing his eyes open, Lindir saw Ramiath, offering him a cup
of water. Shakily he took the cup and drank deeply until all
the water was gone. Then he turned back to the human, fixing
him with a cold gaze.
"Why did you betray us?" There was no doubt in his
mind that the human had allowed this.
"I am sorry." Ramiath said quietly. "Our request
for your help was honest, but these men got wind of it somehow.
When they found out they turned up here in force. They told
us that they would destroy the village and kill us all if we
did not help them. We have no warriors, but many women and children.
There was nothing I could do - I had to protect my people. Now
I am here with you because they do not trust me."
Lindir
sighed, there was no malice in the man, but that would not help
them now.
"Let us just hope word reaches my people before they take
any further action."
"It may happen." Ramiath said. "I think one of
the guards managed to escape."
"One?" Lindir asked. "What happened to the other?"
Ramiath pointed to the corner, where Mellachion lay. He was
wrapped in Ramiath's cloak and was deathly pale.
"They stabbed him in the side." Ramiath said, "But
he took several down before they stopped him. I tried to stop
the bleeding, but I couldn't."
Lindir
got up and moved to the injured warrior's side. The other minstrels
were still bound, but Linder knew he would have to see to Mellachion
before he did anything else.
"Help me." He said to Ramiath as he got to work.
************************
Rúmil
paced the rooms he shared with Lindir. How could this have happened?
He knew he shouldn't have let him go! /Some guardian I am./
He thought bitterly.
/Standing here while Orophin and Glorfindel ride off to save
*my* lover!/
He
looked out of the window; the rescue party had ridden off just
three hours ago. He gripped the windowsill, hanging his head
in despair.
/Lindir/
His lips formed the name he could not say. The gentle minstrel
had done so much for him, shown him love and comfort and that
he could still go on living after all he'd lost. It was Lindir
whose presence had chased away the nightmares and who almost
always knew what he was thinking, feeling or what he wanted.
His despair and feelings of inadequacy diminished so much when
the minstrel was around.
/Why
is this happening?/ He thought. /Why must these humans continue
to destroy my life?/ He didn't know if he could cope with losing
Lindir. He'd had a few past relationships, but never anything
like this. He loved Lindir more than he'd thought possible,
but now he faced loosing it.
Looking
round the room, his eyes fell on his weapons, placed neatly
in the corner. Orophin had put them there, even though he knew
Rúmil hadn't wanted them. It had been his hope that his
brother would pick them up again someday.
As Rúmil stared at them, he remembered Orophin's words.
"Your hands have healed, what is the problem?"
/What
*is* the problem?/ Rúmil wondered suddenly, looking down
at his hands. They had healed perfectly; there was no trace
of the crushing injuries inflicted on them just a few short
months ago.
/They
work fine.../
He
stared at the weapons again, then back at his hands. Then he
dashed forward, grabbing them and running out of the door full
speed, not even slowing down to pull his quiver and knives onto
his back.
He
ran to the stables without stopping, ignoring any who looked
at him. As he arrived a horse was just being led out for a waiting
guard.
Shoving the other elves aside, Rúmil grabbed the animal
and mounted swiftly, before urging it into a gallop. Paying
no heed to the cries of protest from the surprised elves, he
headed in the direction the rescue party had taken not long
ago.
**********************
Lindir
had tended to Mellachion as best he could, but he knew the other
elf needed proper medical care if he was to survive. The makeshift
bandage Ramiath had made out his cloak was already soaked though
with blood. He did not have long.
The minstrel had no more time to dwell on it, however, for just
then Helethir entered, followed by several others. He pointed
at Lindir and two men came forward, grabbing him by the arms.
He tried to struggle but this only resulted in another blow
to the head that sent him reeling.
Helethir
came up to him, grasping his chin roughly and forcing his head
up.
"I'm an old-fashioned man." He said. "I believe
in making examples of those who defy me. "You'll do nicely
as an example of what I'll do to the rest of your kind if they
cross me again."
Lindir
could not react; his head was still spinning from the blow he
had just received. Nor was there anyone to help him, for Ramiath
was too afraid and he had not had chance to untie his companions.
Helethir
took his hand away and nodded to the men holding the elf. Lindir
was dragged off towards a large pole that had been erected in
the town centre, as the others watched helplessly.
Shoving
him up against the pole the men produced ropes and lashed him
tightly to it.
Blinking, Lindir tried to work out what was happening. All he
knew for certain was that it would not be good for him.
But it wasn't until they began piling wood and hay around him
that he realised exactly what they were planning to do - burn
him alive.
*********************
Rúmil
rode hard, stopping only when absolutely necessary to allow
the horse to rest. The animal could sense the urgency and fear
in her rider and had given the ride her all. Several hours had
passed now, at the speed they were going they would soon catch
up with the others. He was grateful that the village was not
that far away.
As
expected, it was less than an hour later when he finally caught
sight of Glorfindel's patrol, going slightly slower than he,
but still making good time.
Elladan
had been worried about his lover since they left. Orophin's
face was grim and he had said little on the way. Though Elladan
knew he'd be the same in Orophin's place, he still worried about
the burdens the Galadhrim carried. If harm had come to Lindir,
Orophin would take it only fractionally better than Rúmil.
"My
Lords!" A cry came from one of the riders near the back.
"Another is approaching!"
Glorfindel quickly halted the party and they turned to see who
was coming up behind them.
Orophin gasped. "It cannot be!" Not believing his
eyes, he took another look at the rider. But it was - it was
Rúmil riding towards them.
Rúmil
rode past the warriors, coming to his brother's side, as Orophin
stared at him in shock. Rúmil looked firmly at his brother,
his eyes conveying all that he could not say. He was going with
them; he owed it to Lindir.
A
slow smile spread over Orophin's face. He reached out and squeezed
Rúmil’s shoulder.
"Welcome back." He said softly. Rúmil returned
the small smile, then inclined his head in the direction of
the village. Orophin nodded and they headed off again, Rúmil
in the lead.
******************
Lindir
closed his eyes as Helethir came forward with the torch. He
prayed to Mandos for a quick release and for someone to watch
over Rúmil. More than his own death, he feared that Rúmil
would not survive it.
Quietly,
he began to sing softly, to calm and remind himself that death
was not the end.
"Soon
I will be here no more
You'll hear the tale
Through my blood
Through my people
And the eagle's cry
The bear within will never lay to rest."
Lindir
did not know that Rúmil was even now riding towards him,
along with a party of Imladris' finest warriors. Even had he
known, there was nothing he could do now, except sing a quiet
farewell.
"Wandering
on Horizon Road
Following the trail of tears
Once we were here
Where we have lived since the world began
Since time itself gave us this land
Our souls will join again the wild
Our home in peace and war and death."
Raising
his arm, Helethir threw the torch and the hay and wood around
Lindir burst into flames.
END
CHAPTER 8
