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tolo dan na galad (`come back to the light`)  by Laikwalâssę

Tolo dan na galad

(`come back to the light`)

Chapter 11: blows we never wanted to receive

“But as I said before, it was not my intention to survive and I will definitely not come back with you. Please return alone and let me die in peace.”

The Master of Rivendell still deeply embedded in the warrior’s mind stared in disbelieve at the elf before him. He desperately searched the unnaturally dull eyes of his friend for any sign that the words just uttered were not meant as they had sounded. To his dismay the gaze that was directed at him held not trace of insincerity much less humour, only determination and deadly clarity.

Elrond could no longer use the current condition of the warrior as an excuse for his strange behaviour. The severe wound was almost healed, even if it would still be uncomfortable and painful at times, but it was nothing that would hinder the battle-hardened warrior from returning to his usual routine.

What was left was the grief that still weighed heavily on the Troop Commander. Elrond understood these feelings of loss better than most, having experienced them too many times in his own life. But this despondency Glorfindel was now displaying, even after going through recent events, was not justified. Had the influence of the Nazgűl wounded the spirit of the great warrior to such a degree that he was tired of life?

Had the energy attack wounded the warrior bodily, Elrond wondered? He let his analytical eye wander over the hunched figure. He could not discern anything that indicated that.

Swallowing against the constriction forming in his throat, and shoving back all the hollow reassurances that came to mind, the healer knelt down at eye level with the warrior.

For a while he simply sat there next to his friend, trying to determine how to respond to the desperate statement from the elf. He knew from hard-learned experience that to push Glorfindel did not meet with success.

The warrior had to be convinced. All his being had to be content with a suggestion before he would relent, and even more in such a personal matter.

Yet, when he felt a tug on his mind Elrond knew that the time to act had come. His body was demanding the return of his spirit and he could not linger here forever. Taking a deep breath the healer touched the warrior’s arm lightly to get his attention.

“Glorfindel”, he began when their eyes had met. “I understand how the loss of your men grieves you, but you must not let these feelings weigh you down this much. No one is blaming you for what happened….”

“You do not know of what you speak,” a low voice interrupted him and Elrond would have missed it were it not for the unnatural silence in the odd room.

The healer raised an eyebrow. Of course no one blamed the warrior but it dawned on him that Glorfindel was referring to something different.

“In what do I err, then?” Elrond asked. He shoved back his rising frustration for being unable to detect what the core of the problem was.

Rejecting another reminder from his body to return, Elrond waited patiently for the elf to respond. Just when he already thought that nothing would be forthcoming the warrior raised his eyes. The healer gasped. The gaze was nearly alien to him. Had the dark spirit not been removed entirely?

Quickly looking at the stone mound on the opposite wall Elrond nearly dreaded hearing the mad laughter again. He was relieved to hear the familiar voice of his long time friend, even subdued and weary.

“Elrond, even if you tell me a hundred times otherwise; it was my fault that the patrol was slaughtered.”

Narrowing his eyes the Elf-lord leaned forward. “How so?” he demanded; tired of this game of getting only small pieces, pieces too small to put the puzzle together.

Hearing the unintended, but nonetheless sharp tone of his lord, Glorfindel returned a defiant look. “When the orcs attacked I stood there and watched the scene from afar without intervening,” the warrior spat with a vehemence that made the contempt of his own actions more than obvious.

With superior self-control, Elrond managed to remain calm outwardly until his emotional storm had subsided. He determinedly backed away a bit to give the agitated elf space to breath. Nonetheless he did not let him out of his sight.

“I can hardly believe that, Glorfindel. I claim to know you well enough that this picture you paint of yourself is not right!”

Meeting his Lord’s gaze unflinchingly Glorfindel did not even blink. “And yet, it happened this way,” he answered, his voice now trembling.

Though already guessing the reason behind this, Elrond knew that he had to push now to make the warrior speak of the matter that was tormenting his soul.

“What made you stay back? What prevented you from helping your men?” Elrond asked his tone now gentle but imploring.

Glorfindel looked up again and Elrond could see that his eyes were now filled with tears, but the healer could not determine if these were tears of sorrow or frustration. Yet it did not matter to him. Finally, the much-needed tears could be shed. The wounded soul could finally open the lock.

With a voice devoid of any emotions the Troop Commander began to speak and Elrond listened intently.

“When we reached the clearing nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I could not detect the presence of the Nazgűl and that’s still a mystery to me.”

Elrond nodded while frowning. The evil emanating from a Nazgűl was usually very strong, at least at least when it was that close, and it should have been easily detectible. If Glorfindel had not sensed him at all then the ring-wraith must have found a new way to hide his presence. Glorfindel’s next words confirmed his suspicions, but did nothing to clarify the mystery.

“We did not recognize the presence of the orcs either. The attack came unexpectedly, and was so forceful that we hardly had a chance to react. While my men fought the onslaught from the orcs, my mind was seized and my body immobilized with a ferocity I have never experienced before. The patrol fought valiantly and desperately but the number of orcs was simply overwhelming.”

When the warrior stooped with a shuddering breath Elrond squeezed the arm of the grieving elf to give comfort; shivering himself while imaging the scene before his mind’s eye. He had battled enough orcs to envision the horror that had swept over the little group.

Without responding to the comforting gesture the elf continued, his eyes staring ahead unseeing. “From the beginning I was forced to watch while one after the other of my men was killed without having the chance to intervene. For every dead warrior there were eight to ten dead orcs but their reserves seemed endless until…”

Glorfindel´s voice broke. Elrond closed his eyes. He knew what his friend was unable to say. He had seen the results himself.

Somehow Glorfindel found the strength to go on. “While being forced to watch my men die, the Nazgűl laughed at me and mocked me until my heart could take no more. With the last strength I possessed I let out a cry which cost the last two warriors their life.”

Looking up sharply Elrond searched the face for the meaning of this and he had not to wait long.

“When Thalan heard my cry he turned, startled, and realized for the first time that I had not participated thus far. His eyes narrowed when he looked past another surviving companion to the tree line where the Nazgűl was hovering.

With a cry of rage he ran forward and challenged the Nazgűl, but he was quickly subdued when an orc held a knife to my throat and stopped Thalan’s attack with the threat to kill me. I begged Thalan with my eyes not to surrender but Thalan obeyed and lowered his sword. Two scimitars pierced his body and he fell dead in front of me.”

When the warrior’s voice faded again the Elf-lord swallowed. Thalan had not been dead, he had even managed to return home but he saw no reason to inform the distressed elf of this fact. He would learn of it eventually but it would not change anything.

“What happened next?” Elrond asked with a neutral voice. Glorfindel had to go the rest of road now to cleanse his soul by releasing all of his sorrow.

Yet Elrond feared this last push. Glorfindel had died once and witnessed this in full conscience; what would this near-death experience do to his sanity?

But the healer’s prompt was unnecessary. The warrior was now beyond reason and walked a road where no one should be forced to go.

“After the Nazgűl released my mind I drew my sword but the gathered orcs, only waiting for this opportunity, charged all at once and I was unable to hold out for long. It was odd. The pain of pierced flesh lessened with each stab I could not counter; until I felt so light-headed from the pain and blood loss that nothing else mattered at all....”

Now it was Elrond’s hand that trembled. Valar, now he could understand the wish of his friend not to return to life; to never have to relive this horror again or be reminded of it.

Yet what should he do? He could not with good conscience willingly accept his friends’ wish to die. His entire being screamed in denial. But what words of reassurance and hope should he provide?

Swallowing again the Elf-lord could do nothing else but try. “Glorfindel, I’m so sorry for what happened to your men and to you. I can hardly imagine how you must have felt by being forced to watch them die, but please consider your choice again. I’m here to help you through all this.”

The healer trailed off when he saw the shake of the head of his Troop Commander.  And the sad thing was he could understand the decision. How someone could be forced to live on with the experience of dying twice; one time finally and one time nearly?

“Glorfindel, please!” Elrond tried yet again, his voice nearly pleading. He had to get a commitment. The tug on his mind was very strong now and soon he would be wrenched from the warrior’s mind unable to control the process.

“Your death would be a hard blow to our community. Many draw hope from the fact that at least you survived despite their grief. And consider what your passing would mean to the twins and….to me…” he trailed off all further words eluding him. He knew that this argumentation was unfair but he could not help it.

When Glorfindel raised his head Elrond looked at the blue eyes gazing at him. He desperately searched for a sign that his words had somehow penetrated the elf’s stupor.

Just when Glorfindel opened his mouth Elrond was forcefully wrenched from the other’s mind. As he had feared, he had no control over what was happening. His mind was being forced back the same way he had come to insert himself into his friend’s spirit.

The fast and whirling movement made him dizzy and nauseous. The speed back was much greater then the journey in. His body demanded the return of what should not have been parted from it for that long. New to this sensation he let it happen, yet he doubted he would have had any chance to interfere.

Just when he lost all sense of orientation and direction his mind plunged back into his body and he recognized only faintly the surprised gasps of his sons who were hard pressed to catch his body before he could hit the ground.

If they succeeded he did not know because consciousness left him instantly. His last waking thought was drowned in grief and despair. He had not managed to convince Glorfindel to return into the world of the living. His victory over the Nazgűl was actually a defeat.

To be continued………………

 





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