Chapter
9
The
sound of hoof beats filled Rúmil's ears, while his eyes
remained fixed on the landscape before him. It felt like they
had been riding for hours, surely it could not be far now! Urging
his horse to go even faster, he pushed on towards the village.
"We're nearly there." Elrohir's voice cut into Rúmil's
thoughts, as though they had been read. The young twin smiled
reassuringly at the Galadhrim, though Rúmil did not respond.
He heard well enough, but the words did little to ease his troubled
heart. Until Lindir was in his arms once more, he would find
no peace.
They
rode hard, coming ever closer to the village. Rúmil's
face was set, his expression one of fear and determination.
He could not fail Lindir, now or ever.
Beside him was Orophin, ever supportive and encouraging. Rúmil
was glad for his brother's presence; it reminded him that he
was not alone in his quest. There was more than just Lindir's
life at stake here.
It
was not the village that came into view first, however. A thin
column of smoke rose into the sky, mingling with the clouds
and carrying the smell of fear and pain to sensitive elven senses.
"Are they burning the village?" Elladan cried in alarm.
Rúmil paled as the words were spoken and Orophin looked
worriedly at his brother. "I pray they are not." He
replied, knowing that if it were so, it may already be too late
for a rescue. That Rúmil knew it too was evident by the
terrified look on his face.
Orophin bit his lip and offered up a prayer to the Valar that
Lindir yet lived as they approached the outskirts of the human
settlement.
**************
He
couldn’t breathe. Smoke surrounded him, filling his lungs
and getting into his eyes. All he could feel was the heat, becoming
more and more intense as the flames came closer. The flames
seemed to be dancing as they crept towards him, taunting and
teasing him before they took him into their embrace.
He pushed back against the pole, as if he could somehow become
a part of it and escape the now inevitable fiery death.
Tears
fell from his eyes, tears that were only partly from the smoke.
His heart was breaking at leaving Rúmil. He could feel
the Galadhrim’s pain grow with each inch closer the flames
came to his body. He had vowed to erase that pain, not to break
his shattered heart even more.
He
hung his head, coughing as smoke invaded his body. He cursed
these evil men for their dark hearts, cursed the villagers for
having no minstrels of their own, even cursed Elrond for agreeing
to their request. He did not want to die when he had so much
to live for!
“Rúmil.”
He sobbed, the soft sound lost in the roar of the flames.
************
Helethir's
men had surrounded the square, after rounding everyone up. Bad
enough that one elf had escaped; they would take no more chances.
All the villagers would watch the elf burn and know never to
cross them. Then they would kill the other elves and leave their
bodies as a warning to all of their species.
However,
this plan had one flaw. It left the outskirts of the village
empty of all but a few men, who had no idea of the elven patrol
riding towards them.
Duindil,
Beraidros and Goremyn were on guard at the western edge of the
village. Their moods were dark, disgruntled as they were at
being given such a position. They were missing out on all the
fun; they had wanted to watch as the elf burned. The ones the
elves had killed had been known to them and they felt that they
were being denied their revenge. In their minds, they saw the
attack on Rúmil’s patrol as justified defence of
their territory. That was what Helethir had said, so it must
be right.
Slumped
on boxes near the front of a house, they started as they heard
horses approaching.
Looking towards the source of the sound, they gasped in horror
as they saw the large elven patrol riding at speed towards them.
Before any had the chance to react, they were surrounded.
Orophin
was off his horse first, grabbing the man nearest to him, while
the others were held at bay with Elven arrows.
It was Elladan who spoke though, as his command of westron was
better.
"Where are the elves?"
"Elves? We ain't seen no elves!" The man lied. The
he let out a sharp gasp as the point of Rúmil’s
arrow nudged his back.
"I'm
afraid my friend doesn't believe you." Elladan said calmly.
"He can be quite persuasive, so I do suggest you co-operate."
"I
told ya, there ain't no elves!" The man tried to move away
from the arrow-tip digging into his back. "Except the dead
ones." He smirked, hearing the horrified gasps.
“You had best be lying!” Elladan hissed. “Or
you may not live to regret it!” He turned to three of
the guards. “Bind them and remain here. Make sure no others
come.”
They acknowledged his orders with a curt nod and dragged the
men away.
Elladan turned back to the others, noting the agitated look
in Rúmil’s eyes.
“Let us move. I fear this does not bode well.”
Within
seconds they were back on their horses and riding the short
way to the village centre, to where the answers to their fearful
questions awaited.
With the horses’ hooves clattering on the roughly laid
stones, they arrived.
*************
The
first of the flames licked at the corner of his robes, eating
away at the pale material. He watched, the flames seeming to
move in slow motion, as if in a dream. But this was no dream,
he knew that his time had come and soon he would walk in Mandos’
Halls.
Darkness
crept into the corners of his vision, heat and smoke causing
him to feel dizzy. Lindir knew he was losing consciousness and
he welcomed this turn of events. The Valar willing, he would
pass out before the fire ate his flesh, saving him from an agonizing
death. He had given up all hope of life and he willed himself
not to panic as he felt the raw heat on his skin, even through
his fading awareness.
As
he sank into the comforting blackness of oblivion, he was vaguely
aware of the sound of hoof beats far away. He wondered who it
was arriving at this time, but he had no chance to find out
as darkness claimed him.
************
Rúmil
paled at the sight that met his eyes. Lindir was bound to a
post in the town square, surrounded by burning wood, the smoke
rising ever higher. His eyes were closed and Rúmil couldn't
tell if he was still breathing.
Rage and ice-cold fear filled his heart like never before as
his worst nightmare played out before him. If Lindir was dead...
he couldn't even finish the thought.
Orophin
tore his eyes away from the horror to glance at his brother.
Rúmil's face was white and his raging emotions blazed
in his eyes. Suddenly he urged his horse forward, drawing his
sword as he went.
Part
of Orophin was horrified at the rashness of Rúmil's actions,
but he knew he would be the same if it were Elladan's life in
danger. Nodding to the twins and Glorfindel, he raced after
his brother, the others a split second behind him. He drew his
bow as he went, knowing that Rúmil was likely to have
little regard for his own safety. He would watch out for him.
Helethir
looked up as the elves forced their way into the village, his
eyes widening in shock and anger. Instantly he knew what had
happened - the other elf had made it back and sent help. His
eyes darkened as he glanced at the pyre. No matter what else
happened, he was determined that the elf would die. He drew
his sword and stood as close as he dared to the flames. There
was an elf riding directly towards him and Helethir was determined
to stop him. His sword was drawn and he was ready for combat.
But the elf did not attack. He did something quite different.
Rúmil
galloped into the centre of town, heading straight for the fire.
Two men rushed him, but he cut them down with swift brutality
and the sounds of their dying screams filled the air. He hardly
even noted them; his eyes were fixed firmly on the figure nearly
consumed by smoke and flame.
His
horse shied as he got near, refusing to go any further. Without
hesitation Rúmil pulled his hood up and wrapped his cloak
around him, before leaping into the flames. The heat, flame
and smoke did not bother him; all that mattered was the one
at the centre.
"RÚMIL!"
Orophin cried out in horror as his brother plunged into the
fire and vanished from sight.
Rúmil’s
heart pounded in his chest as he entered the flames. He had
to move fast, or he would succumb before he could get Lindir
out. Keeping his cloak wrapped tightly about him, he jumped
forward to the centre of the pyre, trying not to let the smoke
into his lungs.
He started when his hand touched something soft, but his heart
leapt when he realised it was Lindir.
Swiftly he reached around the back of the pole and sliced the
bonds holding Lindir. The limp form fell into his arms and he
wrapped him in his cloak as much as he could, making sure his
head was covered before leaping back through the flames.
Once out he flung the both of them to the ground and rolled,
for there were still flames eating away at Lindir’s robes
and he had also been caught by the flames.
The
entire rescue took seconds, but already he was dizzy from smoke
inhalation, his breath coming in short gasps. Fear for Lindir
still filled him, had he come too late?
Staggering away from the fire, he had no time to check his lover;
instead he picked him up and headed towards one of the nearby
buildings.
However,
his brave actions had been watched by Helethir, who was furious
that the elf had been rescued. Be the elf alive or dead, his
plans were in ruins. With a feral cry he leapt at Rúmil,
who was unable to defend himself with Lindir in his arms.
Luckily, he was not the only one who had been watching. Seeing
his brother in trouble, Orophin leapt to his defence, blocking
Helethir’s blow and allowing Rúmil to carry Lindir
into a small wooden house.
Once
inside, Rúmil laid Lindir down and checked anxiously
for signs of life. His fingers searched for a pulse as he laid
his head on his lover’s chest, seeking a heartbeat.
He sobbed in relief when a faint heartbeat reached his ears
and his finders felt the pulsing of blood through Lindir’s
veins. He had made it.
Pulling the minstrel’s head into his lap, conscious of
the ongoing battle outside, Rúmil shook Lindir’s
shoulders gently, trying to wake him.
Lindir
moaned softly. He was vaguely away of another nearby and that
he was no longer surrounded by unbearable heat. The moan caused
another shake to his shoulders and he forced his eyes to open.
He could hardly believe the vision that greeted his eyes.
“Rúmil?” His voice was hoarse from the smoke
and full of disbelief. His lover smiled, tears in his eyes as
he thanked the Valar for this miracle. He kissed Lindir softly
and then looked him over carefully. His robe was burned and
charred in places and he clearly had burns on his arms and legs,
but they did not look serious. Rúmil had got to him just
in time. Any later and the flames would have bitten into his
flesh beyond even elven healing.
“I’m fine.” Lindir did his best to reassure
Rúmil with his smoke roughened voice. The sounds of battle
outside could still be heard. “You should help them.”
Lindir had to smile at the weapons Rúmil carried and
the light in his eyes. Somehow, he knew that this was the true
Rúmil, the warrior elf that still existed beneath the
pain and despair he had been consumed by.
Rúmil nodded, gesturing firmly for Lindir to stay put.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Lindir promised.
Rúmil gave him one last kiss, then drew his sword again
and headed out.
******************
Swords
clashed as Orophin engaged Helethir in battle. “You will
not take my revenge from me!” The human seethed. “You
will all die!” He lunged for Orophin, but the elf easily
blocked the blow.
“You almost took everything from me!” Orophin cried.
“You will take no more!” He swung at the man, but
Helethir was faster than the Galadhrim had realised and he sidestepped
the blow.
Orophin, intent now on his own revenge, growled and attacked
again.
Helethir returned the attack and the two fell into a vicious
dance, both intent on bloodshed.
Exiting
the building, Rúmil’s eyes fell on Orophin, in
combat with the man he had surmised was the leader. His expression
darkening, he moved up behind the evil man.
Orophin smirked as he saw Rúmil come up behind Helethir.
Though he wanted to strike the killing blow, he understood that
Rúmil wanted it, needed it, more.
Rúmil
was furious. This was the man responsible for the death of his
patrol, of Lindir’s suffering and indirectly, for the
loss of his voice.
He grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, forcing the man to
drop his sword and look into the blazing anger held in Rúmil’s
eyes.
“It was his patrol your men attacked.” Orophin said
coldly. “But he survived. You failed.”
“Pity.” Helethir spat into Rúmil’s
face. “The more dead elves the better. I liked the fear
on that minstrel’s face as he began to burn.”
It was the last straw.
Throwing Helethir to the ground, Rúmil dealt the man
the most horrible death he could think of – he slit the
man’s throat. He couldn’t help but feel satisfied
as the man looked up in shock and fear, before mortality claimed
him. Rúmil was taking no chances however, needing to
ensure the man was dead, he drove his sword into Helethir’s
heart.
Looking
down at the dead human, a strange feeling washed over Rúmil.
It was over. Orophin placed his hand on his brother’s
shoulder, smiling softly. Maybe now they could truly move on.
The
death of Helethir had a powerful effect on the rest of his men.
They had thought him invincible, to see him die at the hands
of an elf, not even in true combat, was a crushing blow to their
spirit.
They tried to flee, to escape the vengeful elves, but to no
avail. Glorfindel, the twins and the rest of the elven patrol
cut them off and cut them down, until there were none left.
No more would suffer at the hands of these evil men, the elves
would make sure of it.
*****************
Hurrying
back to where he had left Lindir, Rúmil entered the small
building. The minstrel had pulled himself into a sitting position
and was leaning heavily against the wall. Still, he managed
a smile as his lover entered. “Is it over?” Lindir
asked weakly, the pain of his wounds beginning to make themselves
known now.
The Galadhrim nodded, scooping Lindir into his arms and smiling
lovingly. The minstrel wrapped his arms around Rúmil’s
neck, feeling safe now that they were together, something they
had both feared would never happen again. He rested his head
on Rúmil’s shoulder as he was carried out.
Orophin
and Elrohir entered the hut where the other elves and Ramiath
were being held, while Glorfindel and Elladan went to see to
the villagers.
Elrohir cried out as he took in the still form of Mellachion,
lying by Ramiath, who had used his over-tunic as pillow. As
Orophin released the others, Elrohir dropped to his knees beside
his fellow guard.
“Does he live? Ramiath asked softly. “I cannot tell.”
Elrohir looked up.
“Barely.” He replied. “He has lost much blood.
Even with proper care, I do not know if he will survive.”
Ramiath dropped his head. “I am so sorry.” He whispered.
“I only wanted to protect my people.”
Elrohir did not yet know the full story, but he suspected this
man had been involved.
“There is no time for blame now.” He said. “We
must do what we can for the injured.”
Orophin came over then, several worried-looking minstrels behind
him.
“They seem uninjured, but it will be a while before they
recover from what has happened here. They are worried for Lindir,
I am going to find Rúmil and see how he fares.”
Elrohir nodded. “I hope he is well. Call me should you
need assistance.”
“I will.” Orophin replied, before hurrying out.
He
came across Rúmil with Lindir in his arms, heading towards
them. Lindir looked terrible, but to Orophin’s great relief,
he was smiling and very much alive. Rúmil was smiling
too, the sheer relief clear on his brother’s face.
“Thank the Valar. We were so worried, Lindir.” He
said, reaching out a hand to squeeze Rúmil’s shoulder.
“I was worried too.” Lindir laughed hoarsely. “I
was getting a bit hot!” Orophin chuckled, he could not
be too badly injured if he was laughing, no matter how terrible
his voice sounded.
Elrohir
had done his best for Mellachion, but the elf was still in grave
danger. It would be risky to move him, but to get back to Imladris
was his only hope. “Hold on my friend.” He murmured,
fixing another bandage to the wound. “Do not leave us
now.” He quickly ordered Ramiath to stay with him, then
got up and stepped outside. As he did so, Glorfindel and Elladan
also came to meet them, looking weary but well. The relief that
Lindir was alive was almost a tangible thing, much as their
fear had been.
“Mellachion is the worst injured.” Elrohir said.
“We must get him back to Imladris with all haste. Even
that may not be enough, but we must try.”
“I agree.” Glorfindel said. “Yet some must
remain here, to assist the villagers. You take Mellachion, Rúmil,
Lindir and two guards. The rest of us will follow once things
are settled here.”
“Very well.” Elrohir stepped back into the hut,
returning a moment later with Mellachion in his arms. With Glorfindel’s
help, they got the wounded guard onto the horse, holding him
until Elrohir mounted and supported him.
“Good luck” Elladan said quietly.
His twin smiled grimly. “He’ll need it.”
Elrohir
looked over to Rúmil, who had helped Lindir to mount
and was now getting on himself. Catching Elrohir’s eye,
Rúmil signalled that he was ready to depart.
“We’ll see you soon.” Elrohir promised, then
turned and rode out of the village; heading back they way they’d
come only a short while ago.
Rúmil
took in the feeling of Lindir pressed against him, not caring
about the smell of smoke and grime his lover currently possessed.
He was here and here was alive, that was all that mattered.
He kept his arms securely around him as they began the long
ride back to Imladris.
END
CHAPTER 9
