Creation Song of Ilúvatar

Author’s Note:  Ai, I suffered from a major case of writer’s block, but fortunately the fine folks at Stories of Arda group gave me different tips with which to try to get out of this rut.  I thank them hardily as it really sparked my writing and why it brings me joy.

To catch up on where the story has been, Thranduil and company are preparing to engage an evil presence which comes there way.  Legolas, Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir have left on a dangerous mission to the southern reaches of Mirkwood to assess the status of the southernmost patrol units of Thranduil’s realm.  Unfortunately, Legolas and companions find that all of the members of this southern unit have perished at the hands of the orcs.  They begin their return to Thranduil’s halls and on one of their stops to rest the Shadow tries to cause them to despair.  Glorfindel remembers a happy moment he shared with Legolas as a child, and Legolas again walks in dreams with Lenmana.

And now on with the story…

Chapter 29:  The Black Breath

The skies overhead had darkened as an ominous Shadow cast its blight upon Thranduil’s realm.  It was as if Sauron’s servants had taken ghost shapes and cast their own shadow upon his lands.  Thranduil would not have it.  He breathed hard with determination, his muscles tensing beneath his armor.  Thoughts ran unbidden to his children whom had not returned from where their duty had taken them.  He bowed his head in silent contemplation, reaching out with his fëa, to find that the bonds he shared with his children were still intact.

He imagined the fevered yet calculating fervor his daughter was most likely taking to her task.  Thranduil then glanced at Laurenor who was quietly walking around and talking to the guards individually, placing comforting hands on shoulders.  He knew, once found, the Elves who had survived were being attended by Erutunín’s hands- if any survived, Thranduil added soberly.  Inside, Istawen, his marriage daughter, and Aní were comforting those within the cavernous halls with the gentle ways of the Silvan folk.

And Legolas, he feared most for his youngest, the most spirited of his children, the most at risk from the pain of Shadow.  So much love and passion was held in his child’s heart that Thranduil feared the enemy would swoop in upon this compassion like hawks hunting their prey. 

Thranduil was broken out of his reverie by the fast approaching sound of a horse galloping at break neck speed.  From the trees, Rainiel came forth with distress evident on her face.  She quickly slowed her mount and leapt off running towards Thranduil.

“Something is wrong my lord!”

“What is it Rainiel,” Thranduil gasped, as his bones were chilled to his very depths.

“The Shadow, it is moving quickly, but not towards the halls Adar.  As I was riding towards the different patrols and assessing placement and needs I noted that at first the forest creatures and trees were eerily silent as if afraid to breathe and be discovered by the Shadow, but suddenly the evil mists that encroached upon us, lifted and the forest creatures slowly regained their voice.  The Shadow flees South as if it has been alerted to something” Rainiel reported, somewhat out of breath after her rapid fire account of the events.

As if on cue, the mists that were surrounding the hill which held Thranduil’s halls, lifted and the noise of night creatures was heard once more.  Even the trees seemed to shake their branches in relief, but there was something more in the speech of the forest creatures.  They seemed to be calling to Thranduil, warning him.

In his mind Thranduil heard the voices of the trees rumble, “They have found him, they have found him!”

“When did you last receive word from Legolas,” Thranduil ordered, his voice calm, attempting not to betray the depths of his concerns.

But Rainiel heard the fear in his voice and saw the fear that was captured in her father’s eyes, “Adar, just last night we received word from Legolas carried by the wings of one of our forest friends that he had located the Southernmost patrol and all had been lost to Shadow.”

Thranduil grasped Rainiel’s shoulder with more strength than usual, “Where is Legolas Rainiel!  Where is he?”

Rainiel stood speechless, the desperate strength with which her father grasped her shoulder began to become painful.  “Adar,” she finally she managed to whisper.

“Forgive me, my daughter,” Thranduil replied, softening his grip on Rainiel’s shoulder and taking her into an embrace.

Rainiel ran her hands comfortingly through her father’s hair.  Many winters had come and gone since she had seen her father so affected, and tears ran down her cheeks as she understood that something evil was coming her brother’s way.

***

As the four Elves traveled quietly along the forest floor, Glorfindel could not help but be wary, and finally voiced his doubts to his companions, “The Shadow had purpose in letting us pass.  I fear we are slowly being herded into a trap.”

“Ai, I too have had this growing doubt nagging me,” Legolas responded, while looking around into the darkness of night that surrounded them.

Elladan and Elrohir both wore grim faces, the Shadow also growing in their waking thoughts.  It was coming.  They all knew it.

Glorfindel gasped as he saw a Blackness materialize from the heavy mists in front of him.  “Be gone servant of Shadow,” Glorfindel hissed as he unsheathed and raised his sword towards the Blackness.  What little light was found in the skies that night seemed to find its way and light the mighty Eldar with the radiance of the West.  The Black Shadow seemed to be frightened as it fell back.

Legolas let fly an arrow and a piercing screech was heard as the arrow found its target in the Black Shadow. 

Elladan and Elrohir had also drawn their swords as the Black mass came swiftly towards them.

Glorfindel jumped in front of them and swung at the approaching corpse-like shadow.  The sword was met in kind by a morgul blade, blackened by evil craft.  The shadowy figure parried the blow with a strength that knocked Glorfindel to the ground as he swiftly blocked the oncoming blade.

“Glorfindel,” Elladan cried out and the twins charged the Black Shadow with an intensity that shone in their eyes as if the stars of Elbereth were set upon their brows. (1)

But the Black Shadow let out its breath and a fierce wind pounded them to the ground.  Soon they realized that the Shadow was driving them from Legolas.

“Legolas,” Glorfindel shouted desperately, “this malevolence is meant for you!”

Legolas had spent the arrows he had in his quiver as the Shadow swiftly surrounded him.  He managed to unsheathe his long knives, and began to parry the blows of the black sword in a display of desperation.  The Shadow was too strong for one Elf to bear alone.

From behind him, Legolas heard Glorfindel cry out, “Lacho calad, Drego morn!  [Flame light, Flee night!]” And Glorfindel’s mighty sword shone forth with such brilliance that indeed it seemed that it had burst into flame and night was rendered into light.  The wretched creature wailed and cowered before the onslaught of the Balrog Slayer and foe of the Nazgul. 

Legolas joined in the onslaught swinging his twin knives in a dance of dangerous beauty.  Elladan and Elrohir retook their attack from the other side of the foul creature that dared to walk as Man.

“You were once a Man, but you are no more than a mere servant, a wretched being who knows not the joys of the moon and the stars.  You will crawl back to your lord,” Legolas roared with the wrath of the Firstborn.

The Wraith was now wailing as if it were weeping its demise at the hands of the glorious Elf Lords, lords of old that were come back to revenge upon the Shadow all the death and pain suffered by the Firstborn.  In a last effort, the Shadowy figure gathered the last bits of evil breath it had left and let fly a dagger which found its mark.  As the dagger was released the Shadow lost the meager hold it had on a bodily form and fled South with the dark winds to the barren hill that held its malice and evil.

Glorfindel dropped his sword, the dagger had passed unnoticed by him as the black breath disguised it in darkness.  Elladan and Elrohir placed their swords on the ground, leaning heavily upon them, attempting to capture their breath.

“We must not linger,” Glorfindel spoke wearily, the creatures of Shadow will be back with more thirst for vengeance.  Orcs are close behind us, and who knows what other creatures of darkness hunt us this evening.”

Elladan and Elrohir shook their head in agreement and turned to look at Legolas.  What met their vision was a sight as terrible and Black as was the Shadow.  Legolas sat, with his back against a tree, clutching a dagger that was imbedded in  his chest.  He was trying to hold back the blood that was pouring freely out of the wound.  He looked up towards them, his face pale with death, and as his own breath left his body, Legolas’ body slumped forward.

***

Lenmana was sitting quietly in a corridor in Thranduil’s halls.  She could not be with the rest of them, united in their fear, together as a people.  Her doubts and fears were eating her away.  It seemed she was always being consumed, but now she was being devoured. 

She pulled a needle of bone from her belt and fingered it absent-mindedly with her fingers, unconsciously attempting to drive away all feeling.  She succeeded and she sat on the cold stone floors feeling numb to everything, including the blood that coursed through her body.  Her body was breathing, but she felt her soul was dead. 

She took the needle and began to slowly drive it into the center of her palm as she remembered the lonely man’s suffering the bearded men who came to her lands had shown her.  She wanted to feel pain, to find out she lived, and her pain, it was the only thing that was real.  The blood trickled down her palm and onto her wrist.  This hurt was real; it was alive. (2)

She longed to feel alive, the way she felt when she was first learning to catch the winds on her steed’s back, with the sun warming her face- alive.  She longed to hear the laughter of her mother, so loud and bold, the soft chuckles of her father who knew his place next to her mother, his wife, his love.  There was so much love between them yet it had been so hard for them to love and in the end death claimed any love that had been bourn to steal it hungrily for itself.

“Yes,” Lenmana thought to herself, “death comes to devour us, to cover us in blackness.  Maybe then, when my eyes close, I will truly feel nothing.”

***

“No, leave her,” Istawen urged Aní, “she is not of mind to keep company with a hall full of what are strangers to her.”

“But she does not understand how the Shadow can make one desperate in sorrow, how it snakes its way into our hearts to choke out all hope,” Aní whispered sadly.

“She does not, but there is not much that can be done.  The Shadow holds more power over mortals and I am afraid that our energies must be focused on our young,” Istawen spoke to Aní in a motherly tone.  “I know you would wish to ease the darkness that infiltrates her thoughts, but she alone can fight this battle.”

“But this is a foe Lenmana has never met,” Aní cried out softly.

Istawen placed a gentle hand on his check, “Ai, I fear this is a foe she only knows too well.  If we interfere, do this for her, or simply aid her, we will only cause her to lapse into darker dreams.” Istawen looked towards the passages that Lenmana had disappeared into earlier, “She must understand she is truly not alone.”

***

“Rainiel, is Adar well,” Laurenor whispered into his sister ‘s ear as he came to stand next to where Rainiel was holding a rather distraught looking Thranduil’s hand.

“He fears for our brother,” Rainiel spoke, shivering with the dark threat that was lingering in her mind.

Laurenor took his father’s other hand, and grasped it firmly, trying to ease his father’s obvious misgivings.

Thranduil responded by grasping their hands in kind more securely, “All we have is hope, and that is better than none at all.”  Thranduil wore a brave face as he smiled for his children, remembering he was still their father and they needed him.

Rainiel suggested, “Can we not send out scouts to ascertain Legolas’ position, if he is well?”

“Or,” Laurenor added, “We can send winged messengers to Erutunín to see if has had word of Legolas.”

“I have done that already,” Rainiel interjected, “and Erutunín has had no contact with Legolas, “and our friends of the forest cannot pierce the black veil that has settled over the southern borders of our realm.”

“Indeed,” Thranduil spoke, his voice heavy with worry, “we must wait for Legolas and the others well being to be revealed.  We cannot risk loosing other Elves.” At this declaration, Thranduil bowed his head, understanding that although he wanted to run and search for his son, he could not risk the lives of himself or any of the others.  “Such a time to be King,” Thranduil thought to himself.

“As you said Adar, we have hope.  Legolas is not alone for the sons of Elrond and Glorfindel are with him.”

Thranduil nodded in agreement, “Legolas, come back to me my son…”

~*~*~*~*~~*~

(1) Parallel to Eärendil who wears the Silmaril “bound upon his brow.” The Silmarillion

(2) Inspired by Johnny Cash/NIN’s rendering of Hurt.