The Lingering Darkness Fan-fiction

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Gilly

Now that the others had all been led their separate ways, one guest alone remained standing planted in the corridor, stubbornly resisting all attempts to show her to a place where she might refresh herself, or change out her cold and mud rimmed clothes. Gilly was persistent in trying to convince those who had been assigned to ministering to the newcomers that she really and truly needed to see with her own eyes, that Miss Benia had indeed made it to this outpost. And a tall graceful elf, who thus far had succeeded with much effort in drawing the hobbit only a few yards down the long winding hallway, grew perplexed, when much to her dismay her guest refused politely to go any further until she was given directions to the 'infirmary'.

"I am sorry, dreadfully sorry really," Gilly apologized, her voice echoing along the empty hall. "But I won't set at all easy until I know how Miss Nightshade is getting on. And I really wouldn't forgive myself if I were fuss with being all clean and comfortable while my friend is fretful, and Mr. Dúlrain so seriously hurt. It would not be right now, would it?"

So it went for quite some time, until at last the elf conceded, quickly taking the resolute hobbit along a series of corridors, and coming near an open doorway from which voices could be heard, gestured for Gilly to be quiet as they approached the room. Stopping short of the threshold the elf told her softly that her friends were inside and must not be troubled until the healers were done with their task. It would be better, she urged, if Gilly were spend this time making herself ready to greet them. Nodding her understanding, the hobbit took a few steps forward, and catching hold of the doorpost peered inside. There in the room were indeed Miss Benia and Mr. Dúlrain. At least it appeared to be Mr. Dúlrain, for her friend was bent low over him obscuring his face as she spoke gently into his ear, and the ranger in turn clutched her expressive hand in an ivory grip, as if she were life itself. But they were not alone. The two elves that she had met at the Forsaken Inn, Miss Vanwe and Miss Léspheria, were working diligently on Dúlrain wound, while two others stood by ready to assist them.

Gilly saw that this was no moment for her to interrupt, and the elf had been right to suggest that she leave them be until they were finished their work. But still her heart plummeted at the sight of the flurry of activity. She had been so joyful to finally reach Imladris, but now uncertainty crept back over her as she realized that even here Dúlrain was struggling.

Turning back to her guide she signaled that she was willing to go now, and soon found herself in a quite room with a basin of water and a rag, trying to scrub off the grime that had gathered, and that the river had not washed away. It seemed a long time since she had been alone, and the stillness was loud to her ears, with only the noise of the stream in the distance and her own heart beat. Soon after bathing, as she worked to smooth out her tangled hair before tying it up again, she was grateful when the lady returned bearing a child's yellow frock and petticoat for her to wear, so beautiful and fresh, smelling of lavender. Gilly thanked her profusely, feeling them too precious to wear, and asked if she might have a needle and thread to begin repairing her own clothes before returning home. Green thread she asked for, if she might have it, for she had lost her own. But taking up the hobbit's ragged garments, the elf smiled at her indulgently, explaining that she would wash them first and bring the requested items later, and then disappeared again, leaving Gilly in solitude.

It was not long before the hobbit grew restless, and left the quite repose afforded by her room behind its quietly closed door, and went off in search of some paper and pen to write the letter to her husband. And wandering the hallways looking someone to help her, she became distracted by the beautiful gardens that lay about the house. Stepping lightly down the stairs in her long gown, she thought to investigate the grounds for a little while and calm her nerves before sitting down to the matter of writing. And investigate she did, for quite some time. Enjoying the many paths and green niches she strayed exploring all she came to until at last she found small low structure with many rooms nestled among the brush, and a hobbit sitting cross-legged on the edge of the front step, a wooden bowl in his lap and a young man leaning against the wall behind him. Seeing that it was Toby, Gilly went there directly to see if he was being treated well and to ask if he knew where Kaldir might be.

[Nerindel]

Amandur

Amandur listened with reservation as Avanill began to explain how swords alone would not subdue the Revennor of Mordor. He could not deny that some of what the young man said might indeed prove true and that he himself had pondered that very same question as they followed the elf’s trail, but he had faith in the Lady Léspheria’s abilities and believed that she would have or at least find the means with which to subdue her kinswoman.

“Can not the elves furnish these things also?” he said dismissively, as the images of Tallas’ mutilated body and ransacked home again bore fresh in his mind, “and at less risk to us.” He finished coldly.

He continued to listen as Avanill went on to explain that he could concoct a draft that would subdue Naiore’s mind, while still allowing her to travel the distance required to bring her to Gondor to face the judgement of their king. He peered doubtfully into the pack that Avanill held open for them to inspect. he could not help but wonder just how many of the vials and packets held within may have been procured from his old friends home and how many of them contented deadly poisons that the villain might use against them should they become lax in their guarded caution.

Slowly lifting his gaze he turned suddenly to face Rauthain barely believing what he was hearing, the older ranger was considering Avanill’s offer. Amandur had already made his feelings clear on this matter, he would see the young man left in here under the vigilant supervision of the elves, until the more pressing matter of Naiore capture had been dealt with. However, before he could protest Avanill spoke again.

“You don’t know who I am, you don’t know how I am connected to Naiore, you have no idea what I’ve been through and you have no idea what went on at Tallas’ place. Don’t be so quick to think you do, it is deeper than you think.”

Now Amandur was respected among his brethren for being of strong tolerance and for possessing a seemingly never-ending patience, but on this hunt for Naiore both had been sorely tested. Several weeks had now passed since they picked up Naiore’s trail, but they were no closer to taking her into their custody than when the first began. Instead, they had lost a highly valued and respected ally of their kin, and then night after night he had to witness the torment of the woman he loved as she suffered the assaults Vanwe was facing at the hands of her own mother and most recently the death of Maethor, all of which he had been helpless to prevent. If it had been Naiore’s intention or not to wear him down in this manner then it was working, his tolerance and patience were both stretched to their very limits and even now, Avanills accusations threatened to break them entirely. It took all the restraint that he could muster for him to hold his tongue and allow the young man to continue.

And as Avanill began to tell them his tale of vengeance, doubt began to settle in his mind. Had he really been too quick to judge this young man, but even as he began to doubt his judgement other memories resurfaced. Among them, Maethor’s recount of his assault in chetwood. Of how he found the young elf maiden fleeing from her captors, and of how Avanill and Barrold had together assailed him and retrieved their quarry. However, he could not dismiss the fact that this man had merely subdued the ranger and not killed him. But neither could he lightly put aside the fact that here the man would have had an obvious opportunity in which to rid himself of his sisters killer. He could have easily killed Barrold and placed the blame on the ranger but he had not or perhaps he could not. His eyes narrowed as he studied the young man’s demeanour for some hint or clue as to his true intent or purpose.

‘I will not give her something to use against me and neither should you!”

Léspheria’s words rang in his ears, she had been warning him that Naiore would sense his feeling for her and use them against him. Off course this is were Avanill’s story fails him for Naiore would most certainly have known if this young man bore her ill will. In their long friendship, Léspheria had never kept from him her ability to feel the emotions of those around her. It was for these very abilities that she was chosen to become an ambassador to Gondor on behalf of her people. but also was it known to him that she was not the only elf to possessed this gift, although ashamed to admit that a noble of their kind would commit such heinous acts as those Naiore was accused the elves eventually entreat the rangers to the source of Naiore’s uncanny ability to evade them at every turn. The rangers had hunted this elf for long enough for many of them to see first hand the extent of these abilities. However, before he could point out this simple flaw in Avanill’s story, the young man error’d again, reminding him that Barrold and Avanill had not been alone that fateful day…. Someone else had witnessed the brutal attack of the old man.

“Can you honestly take me away for trying to save my sister, that girl’s good name? Trying to save Vanwe from Naiore and not to mention what she did to Vanwe… I imagine that she is safe now though, thank the Valar.”

Both he and Rauthain followed Avanill’s brief gaze toward the main house of Imladris. Was he saying that Vanwe was here in Rivendell, evidently thinking the same thing the two rangers glanced at each other then turned back to Avanill? “Are you saying that you believe Vanwe is here?” Rauthain asked.

“Her mother sent her to retrieve her father and seeing this place for myself I do not think she would have succeeded.” Avanill explained and even Amandur found himself agreeing with the young man’s assessment.

“Arrest me if you will but Eru be damned if you will lock me away and take my revenge away from me!”

Amandur’s patience finally snapped and grabbing Avanill roughly by the front of his shirt he thrust him backwards into the solid trunk of a blossoming apple tree and pinning him securely in place he stared intently into the young mans deep blue eyes.

“Revenge!” he said dryly “is reserved for those the lady has honestly wronged and not by those who would shamelessly invent them to avoid facing the consequences of their actions. No, I see not the cold fire of revenge in your eyes and believe me I have seen it many times in my fellow rangers, not least in the eyes of the ranger Dulrain who even now lie’s under the care of the elves yet another victim of the ladies mischief.” The cold fire of vengeance that he spoke burned in his eyes clear for all to see.

“Amandur, my friend!” Rauthain exclaimed concern and uncertainty creeping into his voice as he place a firm hand on the arm that held Avanill firmly in place.

“I have had enough of his lies and wish only to know the truth!” he answered keeping his eyes locked with those of his prisoner.

“And what truth would you wish to hear my friend… The truth or the one you have convinced yourself is true. I too feel Tallas’ loss deeply but we do not know if this young man lies or not.” Rauthain counselled.

“No you are right my friend I do not know if he lies or not,” he said shaking his head and slowly releasing his hold on the young man. “But… there is one who I believe does and I strongly believe that she will tell us the truth that we seek.” he calmly continued watching Avanill trying to gauge a reaction.

[Ealasaide]

Kaldir

Left behind by the others, Kaldir followed at a distance, his pale blue eyes following the movements of both the young stranger he suspected of lying to Mrs. Banks and of the two Rangers, Rauthain and Amandur. He pretended not to notice when the two Rangers suddenly hustled the young man off the path into a rhododendron thicket, but the significance of their action was not lost on him. Obviously, his former brethren felt some of the same suspicions he did and, perhaps luckily for the young man, had decided to address their concerns forthwith, rather than leave the fellow for Kaldir to question on his own. Kaldir had noticed as the stranger passed him on the walkway that the young man's footprints matched those he had been tracking alongside Naiore's since they had left Chetwood, and, Kaldir imagined, that fact had not been lost on the Rangers either.

He paused on the walkway, fighting the temptation to listen in on the tete-a-tete taking place within the rhododendron thicket. Finally, deciding against it, he turned away and walked back in the direction of the stairs and the battlefield. Whatever they were talking about in there was Ranger business, something he had turned his back on years ago in favor of business of his own. While it might be to his advantage to know what was discussed, he still felt a peculiar sort of loyalty to his former brethren. Let them handle their affairs. After all, where Naiore was concerned, they were all basically on the same side. He could always corner the fellow later for a chat of his own. In the meantime, Kaldir felt the urge to go back to the battlefield. His head had cleared somewhat and there were things he needed to look into, namely the whereabouts of his missing sword and horse. He looked down at the bloody orc's blade in his hand. It would not do to enter Imladris carrying the sword of an orc, even a slain one.

The slash across his chest and shoulder had stopped bleeding, but continued to throb with a dull ache. He found the pain helped him to concentrate, keeping him alert, his senses on edge. Besides the matter of his missing belongings, he also wanted to see Naiore's tracks. Elven trackers had no doubt already found them and gone off in pursuit of her, but Kaldir felt a need to look at them himself, to see where she had gone once she had leapt down from the rock shelf upon which he had seen her standing. Her forces scattered and slain, anyone else but Naiore might have fled the area, but Kaldir knew her too well. She still had unfinished business. She might lie low, but she would not be far off. He knew that she would strike again, but where and how remained to be seen.

He continued on down the stairs, stepping out of the way of the elves who still worked at retrieving their dead and wounded from the field of battle. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, it did not take him long to locate his sword where he had dropped it, half-concealed under the corpse of a stout orc. He picked it up and, giving the blade a quick wipe, slid it back into its scabbard. As for the orcish blade he had picked up when he had lost his own, he added it to the pile of orcish armor and weapons that the elves had begun to assemble near the ford. Those things would be disposed of later on the far side of the river, along with the bodies of the dead orcs, as soon as it was deemed safe enough to cross the river.

Having retrieved his sword, Kaldir walked back once more in the direction of the stair, hoping to pick up the trail of his horse, Nico. Not only was the gray stallion a very good horse, but strapped to the horse's back were most of Kaldir's worldly goods, including everything he owned that wasn't physically attached to his person. While there was nothing of any particular monetary value in Kaldir's missing pack, it did contain all of his extra clothes and traveling supplies, some items of which would be much missed and very hard to replace. Studying the ground, Kaldir criss-crossed the part of the battlefield in which he could last remember seeing his horse, but the ground had been too badly disturbed and what tracks could be seen were unclear. Shaking his head, he walked to the edge of the field. Placing two fingers in his mouth, he whistled loudly, but there was no answering whinny from Nico. He waited a short while, then tried again, but was again greeted only by silence.

"Strange," he said aloud. "He's always come before." He looked around the emptying battlefield again, but there were no dead horses or even any hints of dappled gray to be seen in the shadows. The pack pony who had carried Mrs. Banks so faithfully across the countryside could be seen wandering about a short distance downstream, but there was no sign of Kaldir's own horse. Plainly put, the animal had vanished. Puzzled, Kaldir walked over and picked up the trailing reins of the pack pony and led the sturdy little animal back toward the stairs.

Tying the pony to a tree near the foot of the stair, he left it there and moved on to the rocks where Naiore had been standing. For the second time that morning, he came away disappointed. If she had left any tracks at all, they had been all but destroyed by the chaotic flight of the orcs. With no trails to follow, Kaldir decided it was time to return to the stair and the entrance to Imladris. There was a time when he might have simply taken his sword and the supplies still strapped to the pack pony and gone on his way, but things had changed with Kaldir. There were a number of people within the Elven refuge that he needed to speak with, many issues that needed to be resolved. And there was still the matter of that young fellow Amandur and Rauthain had hauled off into the rhododendron patch. If he had been traveling with Naiore, as Kaldir strongly suspected he had, then the two of them would have quite a lot to talk about as well.

In the meantime, though, bleeding or not, he would have to attend the wound to his chest. While the wound itself was not life-threatening by any stretch, more messy and inconvenient than anything, the danger of infection was ever-present. It would have to be treated. Taking one final look around for his missing horse, Kaldir returned to the stair and for the second time began the ascent toward Imladris, this time bearing his own sword and leading the little brown pack pony behind him.