The Lingering Darkness Fan-fiction

[Nerindel]

Amandur

Amandur’s rich hazel eyes, hardened by the passage of time and the evils he had been unfortunate to witness peered through the strands of loose dark hair that stubbornly blew across his rugged features, quietly scanning the surrounding night as he waited for the ladies explanation as to their sudden halt. After a moments silence he turned back to regard her, a pained look reached his eyes as he looked upon the blank expressionless features of the elven lady, a trance like state he had witnessed many times on their adventures together. While he knew that in this manner she could searched out their elusive quarry, he worried, it often troubled him greatly how much on this journey she had struggled to control the emotions that made her who she was and if Naiore; as was said indeed share Lespheria’s gift what harm might the elf witch inflict upon this noble women he would so willingly protect with his own life. But against such an enemy all his strength and wisdom might yet prove useless, a sudden feeling of helplessness washed over him as in his heart he knew he may not be able to save her from the true might of Naiore’s malice. For once in his life he would have to have faith in another, he had to believe that the strong ,determined, Just elf he knew and loved could defeat this evil in her own way.

“…But not alone” he murmured, not with piercing arrows nor tempered steel could he help but with trust and faith, love and friendship would her armour be and he would not desert nor betray her no matter what manner of witch craft Naiore decided to inflict upon them. Reaching out he gently squeeze her gloved hand in his, but started as she suddenly cried out.

As she turn to look at him he was surprised to see the briefest glimmer of fear in her eyes, a look he would never forget, Dark and foreboding like a shadow of evil fogging the gentleness of her heart. But as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, almost as though it had never been.

“Avanill! Vanwe!” she cried urgently her hand slipping from his as she kick her white mare to a gallop, quickly gathering his wits he turned briefly to whistle a signal to Menecin only to hear the thunder of hooves denoting that Léspheria’s fearful cries had already alerted the elven warrior, then he too kick his horse to follow.

It was evident by Lespheria’s haste that she felt the elf maiden and her companion were in danger, he watched as Lespheria abruptly reigned her mount leaping agilely from the saddle to the ground drawing forth the great bow she carried, fashioned from the wood of the great Mallorn trees of Lorien, the intricate gold leaf inlay glistening eerily in the moonlight. Seeing her falter as she reached into her quaver he rushed to her side. “No! I will be ok!” she protested, The pain etched on her gentle features changing almost instantly to a look of defiant determination.

She grasped an arrow and knocked it securely in place, then pulling herself tall she quietly cautioned that Naiore was near. With a slight nod of her head she signalled him to break off to the right to cover her advance, leaving the horses to gaze were they stood. His sword now firmly in his hands Amandur moved off easily matching the elven ladies pace listening for any hidden dangers that may lay ahead.

After barely a few feet she stopped drawing back the string of her bow so the feathers of the arrow gently brushed her cheek, at first Amandur could not see the ladies intent but as he stepped closer he saw the reasoning behind her haste. He blinked twice to be sure he was not seeing double. Two elven women almost double in likeness stood beneath the arching boughs of two great oaks, only the inky dark armour of Revennor of Mordor distinguishing them apart.

But unlike a mother holding her child protectively close Naiore held Vanwe to her with the cold steel of death. A dagger glinted dangerously close to the young elves throat, he knew that neither he nor Lespheria could never reach her in time if Naiore really intended to carry out this threat. Keeping his sword raised he glanced to his elven companion to see what she intended, but her bow arm remained locked and her silvery grey eyes set intently on Naiore. He followed her gaze to see that both elves stood firm like two old warriors locked in unseen battle, neither flitching. His gaze then fell sorrowfully on young Vanwe an innocent caught up in this age old battle; a participant simply by birth. Tears filled those bloodshot sapphire eye as she meet his gaze but not from fear, the look was one of pity and sorrow and as her eyes slowly shifted he followed to see a dark form lying only a few feet to his right. Suddenly remembering the young merchant he cautiously moved off to examine what he had already guessed he would find, Cautious all the time never to drop his guard or the turn his back on this most dangerous enemy.

Holding his sword firmly in his right hand he slowly crouched down beside the body of the young merchant searching for a pulse with his free hand, but as he had assumed none was to be found. The young man was already dead and even he who had had misgivings about the young man and his part in Tallas’s death felt sorrow. As he glanced down to see the fear etched into the wide lifeless pools of the young merchants eyes disgust and anger filled his heart, this elf fought and killed with no honour or regard for life. Hate and vengeance her allies feeding off her enemies fears and using them against them. well she will find no fear here! he muttered silently behind clenched teeth. Unclasping his cloak he laid it over Avanill’s broken body muttering a quick prayer. Filled with new resolve and determination that this elf should be brought to justice he rose quickly turning in the direction of the revennor and her hostage his sword raised and his eyes locked with hard determination. He had barely taken two steps when he found Menecin blocking his path, his eyes quickly shifted between the bards sapphire eyes and the half raised weapon in the elf's hands. What madness is this? he thought has the bard finally lost all reason or is this more of Naiore's doing?

"Move aside Menecin, The time has come for this elf to surrender and face the consequences of her actions!" Amandur commanded his words leaving no room for debate, but the Bard remained his eyes level and his sword in readiness.

"Look Bard I have no quarrel with you but if you do not step aside you will leave me no choice!" he added, frustration and impatience now tracing his voice as he stepped back to raise his own sword. But still the bard remained fixed as though rooted to the spot his eyes betraying no emotion.

"On the kings honour I mean you nor your family any harm but Naiore must face judgement surely you must know this?" he questioned changing tact and pressing the elf hoping to reach what if any good judgement or reasoning that yet remained.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Menecin

“You must decide Menecin,” Naiore hissed softly behind him. “See, with his own mouth the Dúnadan says he does not wish you harm, yet his sword is raised.” And though her speech was calm, Menecin was much grieved at heart at the condition she had set before him, for he counted Amandur a friend. But he had taken an oath and could not endure to see Naiore consigned to a cave deep under Mindolluin for the ages to come, abandoning her to derision under the shadow of the Citadel. And his oath and his pain she would use against him. Must he then choose the death of Amandur or that of his daughter?

“Surely friendship is a lesser bond,” the Bard whispered to himself, his ire rising as Léspheria began to engage Naiore. The chance of extricating the Ravenor from this net without cost to his friends, grew more remote as each moment past. But focusing again on the weather beaten ranger before him, he saw that Amandur had indeed brandished his sword, and a cold fire kindled in the elf’s eyes as he steeled himself. “Both the Lady Dannan and I know what judgment awaits her in Minas Tirith,” he said with a chilling restraint. “Too heavily would it lie on one of our kindred.” He paused renewing the grip on his own weapon. “I will not let you pass, while there is yet another way,” he declared stepping toward the ranger.

Menecin noticed the man’s muscle’s tighten as Amandur studied him closely through narrowed eyes. “What course are you considering Bard?” he asked with caution now tempering his speech.

“No doubt, you question my faculties…. I assure you that I am in my right senses, quite painfully so. But what is it am I considering?” the elf mused. “Truly it would be madness!” Lowering his weapon he looked steadily at the ranger as if he would read his thoughts. “What of exile?” he questioned. “A new life…or perhaps death if it should find her upon the way. There are too few of us to make the trip safely to Gondor, but without your hindrance, I would see Naiore passed the wilds of Rhûn, and mete out my own justice. For what fragile hope I have found in Vanwe stands ready to be extinguished by Naiore’s own hand. And how does one live without hope? Let my daughter not know what becomes of her mother. Better that she say she has known no parents.”

“Though you are an elf, I believe that your death would not be long upon that road, and the lady would return unchanged and unscathed” the ranger said frowning. He looked past the bard to where Naiore stood with Vanwe still caught up by her deadly embrace. “I can not permit it!” he said shaking his head as if to dispel this nightmare. And the ranger’s whisper was harsh to the elf’s ears. Amandur’s gaze soon returned to Menecin. “But if you would find comfort in exile, return with us. Once pronounced, if the wisdom of men displeases you, could we not petition the King that you might be allowed to seek the Undying Lands, and be granted it? Then prevail upon Manwë and your kindred for their mercy and judgment if you so wish, pledging only that the Lady Dannan will not return to Middle-earth. Surely there would be both justice and wisdom in this. For King Elesser would not relish such a captive to become the inheritance of his house, and perhaps the Lady Dannan will find greater understanding among her own people. But we must act now, Menecin!”

“No, I can not do as you desire, and neither can I carry out Naiore’s wish, but I must find my own way. For I will not willingly bring such discord to The Blessed Realm by delivering such a one, even in chains, to the feet of those I hold dear. The peace of Aman was too dearly bought.”

But as a crushing hopelessness began to press down upon Menecin, so that with growing effort and strength of will he fought the darkness in his mind, Amandur drew still closer facing Naiore, even as the tall elf's own back was turned to her. And Menecin did not hinder him, but raised his eyes to see Léspheria, and despair took him.

[Nerindel]

Léspheria

Léspheria’s timeless features appeared hard and her starlit grey eyes cold as they fixed on her kinswoman, the quarry she had so ardently hunted these past few weeks. Her bow arm taunt and unwavering as she stared down the arrow shaft into the steely eyes of the elf that haunted her dreams giving face at last to that dark and ominous shadow! It was true that Vanwe shared her mothers beauty but not the malice and darkness that lay behind those stone like eyes staring back at her, cold and calculating, even now as Lespheria’s arrow marked it’s target. A sudden and unexpected wash of hatred and resentment coursed through her mind as she recalled the cruel and malicious torments of her mothers last year, Vanwe and Menecin’s current torments adding to her desire to just let loose the arrow in her hand and rid the world of this darkened and disillusioned creature, letting Mandos cast his judgement in the halls of the dead where perhaps she would find the true meaning of fear!

Perhaps sensing the sudden change in her cousin Naiore pulled Vanwe closer raising the blooded dagger threateningly close to the young elf’s bare and exposed throat. Naiore twice attempted to move out of bowshot but found that Lespheria countered each movement as if it were her own. However no concern nor fear crossed the cornered elf’s lustrous features instead a sly grin curved her lips giving those grey eyes a deceptively convincing glint of interest and intrigue. Ripples of discord tugged at the corners of Lespheria’s mind and she resisted the urge to turn to witness Naiore’s latest play. She could feel the bards struggle and Amandurs hesitant recourse but chose to block it out. She had faith in both and Naiore’s attempt to feed her these doubts not only failed, but added to her resentment.

“I will not be cowed by you Cousin!” she issued with calm defiance in her voice, but Naiore’s grin only broadened as if a challenge had been sent out and only too eager she accepted. Her eyes fixed on the arrow still nocked in her cousins bow she lowered her head slightly to whisper in her daughters ear. “See now your friend my daughter she means to take her revenge and separate us once more!” a look of triumphant satisfaction crossed the revennor’s face as a mixture of fear, confusion and horror swept over the young elf, Lespheria felt it too as was intended but refused to look into young elf’s eyes, she could not afford the distraction of the pleading look she knew she would find.

“I wonder daughter if you would avenge me so keenly?” Naiore cooed stroking her daughters hair with her free hand. Vanwe hesitated as she searched Lespheria’s hard set eyes hoping that that choice would never be hers to make. Sensing her daughters fears Naiore pulled Vanwe’s head back and glared towards Léspheria.

“Well Cousin what do you wait for!” she issued all the smoothness gone from her voice. “Is this not what you wanted my death in retribution for your mothers? it must have been agonising to bear her pain knowing that you could do nothing to save her, the fear must have been intense” and with that Naiore bombarded her with more memories of her mother imprisonment, Causing the fear within to writhe an twist trying to break free, But Lespheria would not give into it pushing the memories aside with shear force of will keeping her focused.

But at the back of Léspheria’s mind a fierce struggle battled as the elven warrior within filled with anger and bitterness compelled her to let loose her arrow and exact her revenge while the gentler more neutral healing side that cherished life weighed up the cost of her actions, could she willingly forfeit Vanwes life for vengeance, killing Naiore without finding out why? Why had Naiore chosen this path? What answers did she seek? Why had she killed her mother? Why would she kill those who loved her?

“WHY!” she questioned taking a threatening step forward her bow arm slackening but only a fraction, as she waited for the Revennor’s reply.

[Ealasaide]

Naiore

"Why?" echoed Naiore. Her lovely eyes sparkled with a false merriment that sent chills trilling down the spine of the Elven woman opposite her. "Why, indeed. You might well ask yourself the same question. Why, cousin, do you pursue me so relentlessly? What is your motivation? It seems to me that Revenge guides your feet and, indeed, nocks the very arrow to your bow. Revenge, cousin! A vile and base pursuit, more suitable for orcs and misguided men than those of the Eldar race." Leaning forward to place her cheek against that of her daughter, Naiore tuned her comments to her daughter’s ears, though her eyes never left Léspheria’s face.

"You see, my daughter, this creature would slay me for no better reason than the misguided belief that it was my hand slew her mother."

"It was your hand," objected Léspheria softly, her fair features darkening at the memory of her mother’s pain.

"Was it?" Naiore’s expression grew sharper, the feigned merriment vanishing abruptly. "If my memory serves, and I believe it does, your mother was still alive when I was forced to flee Barad-dûr. She still drew breath when the Rangers entered the fortress of the Dark Lord. Ask yourself," purred Naiore. "Or, better yet, ask the Ranger who would fain be your lover, how it is that Lady Valaindon should die after leaving my hands and entering into his?"

Léspheria winced as though she had been struck. For the fleetest instant, her arrow trembled from its mark and the clear gray eyes flicked toward the tall Ranger who remained some distance away, his way blocked by Menecin. "It is not possible."

"Is it not?" Naiore smiled, feeling the tiny ripple of doubt that flashed through Léspheria’s emotions. "Ask yourself, how well do you know his heart? His mortal heart. And how well do you know mine? That of one of the Eldar and your own kinswoman, no less." The Ravener’s smile faded to be replaced by an expression of calm equanimity. "All I sought from your mother was knowledge. There were certain questions of lore and the heart that I sought answers to. Granted my means of interrogation were not easy..."

"Yet you hold a dagger to your own daughter’s throat."

"And you aim an arrow at mine. Have I a choice but to use my daughter as a shield if I wish to evade your murdering intent?"

"Young Avanill lies dead at your feet."

"He sought to kill me with a poisoned dart. Is it wrong of me to defend myself? It seems - " the smile appeared again at the corners of Naiore’s lips, though it fell short of her eyes " - that I am indeed more sinned against than sinning."

"And Kaldir?" Léspheria continued to press.

"He was alive when he left my sight. Ask yourself at whose hand he met his end." Naiore turned her head to speak softly into Vanwe’s ear. "You see how she twists things to blame me and prove me guilty of horrors that would serve to justify her murder of me? Have you seen me murder anyone, my child? No one, no one, except those who would kill me first." Yet, even as she spoke, Naiore’s mind drifted toward the poisoned arrow she had taken from Avanill’s dead hand. If only there were a way to put aside her dagger and nock that arrow to her bow. A mere scratch, almost a miss, and Léspheria, too, would lie dead, no longer barring the Ravener’s passage. Menecin had only to slay Amandur for her, if he did not fail her, and she would be free. She would deal with Menecin, and Vanwe, too, when the time came, but for the moment she needed them.

Without taking her eyes from Léspheria’s face, Naiore cast her mind toward Menecin and, to her profound disturbance, found a waver in his resolve. A wall, perhaps some remnant of his madness, blocked her from knowing his thoughts, but she sensed an aura of doubt. She sent a thought to his mind, do it, my love, do it, along with the renewed promise that they should go into the East together when the Ranger was dead, but the Bard’s doubt still did not diminish. Perhaps the doubt echoed from the Ranger instead? If so, Menecin should take advantage of the Man’s hesitation and move against him while he was vulnerable. If you ever loved me... urged Naiore. Strike him down!

[Nerindel]

Vanwe

Vanwe stood frozen in her mother terrifying embrace shrouded in the darkness of her own fears and doubts, they suffocated and clouded threatening to leave her a numb shell devoid of any thought or feeling, a shadow caught in a void longing for something that it could not quite remember to end. A sudden pulling and the cold bite of the blade at her throat yanked her back to herself. At first she thought that her mother had meant to end her life but as she became aware of the voices around her, her mothers and the Elvin lady Léspheria’s she realised that Naiore had only merely tightened her hold. It frightened her how easily she had accepted that fate almost welcoming it. She pushed the thoughts roughly aside as the voices filtered into her mind and she realised that her mother was speaking to her, the words no longer as honeyed as her mother had intended as sharp hardness edged every word as they echoed in her ear.

“I wonder daughter if you would avenge me so keenly?”

Avenge? What does she speak of? If she could have she would have gasped as her eyes raised to see the hard faced determination etched on the Elvin hunter before her, no not hunter the woman she had thought her friend…Léspheria! What of your promise??? She screamed silently in her mind her anguish awash anew as Léspheria refused to met her gaze. What of your mother she would not have wanted this…….remember…. Please remember! she thought suddenly feeling a wrongness in her Elvin friend that caused her concern it was a wrongness that she also sensed within her mother.

“Why?” Léspheria had cried out and in her mind Vanwe sighed a sigh of relief as the woman stepped forward her bow arm loosening if only slightly but for now it was enough as they waited for Naiore reply she to was interested to learn why her mother had turn enemy to her friend.

She Listened silently to the arguments passing between mother and friend at times her mothers lips brushed her ear as she directed certain question through her stirring the fear and doubt she knew was ever present. Was she correct was she more sinned against that the sinner everyone believed her to be?

"You see how she twists things to blame me and prove me guilty of horrors that would serve to justify her murder of me? Have you seen me murder anyone, my child?

She could not deny her mothers words it was true she had not, but neither could she forget her mothers relentless methods of questioning it had changed her as she now assumed it had the others, the bounty hunter, Lespheria’s mother, her father and inadvertently Léspheria it had changed them all shaping them to her mothers will or driving them to madness was this what was to become of her was she to be subverted to her mother will or go mad in the process? No her mother had not put her hand to those who had died except in defence… she had done things far worse!

The pain of this truth struck her like a sharp blow as her despair again resurfaced, had it been all for not? what had she found? Yet another prison from which this time there seemed no escape except perhaps in death!

NO! the survival instinct that had kept her alive all these years cried in her mind, she had discovered herself who and what she was she was, an elf with kin and family not abandoned as she had believed but found. She had discovered a purpose for her gift. Her eyes raised to find Léspheria’s, it had been she who had shown it to her in the halls of healing. What legacy had her mother given her, yes undoubtedly her life and her gift both for which she would ever be grateful but the Cage the prison her mother constructed and placed around her, the bars not wrought iron but those affected by the Revennor of Mordor terrifying reach, instilling the fear and distrust that had closed her to the truth of what she was, she was a healer and healing was what was needed.

A sudden calm swept over her and as Naiore thoughts turned to her father Vanwe realised what she must do.

***************************************

Léspheria

Naiore’s words brought neither the answers Lespheria wanted or needed, nor did they lead her to any better understanding of the reasoning behind her cousin’s treachery. Instead they left her wondering and questioning herself ,did she really haunt her mothers cousin so unjustly? Was it not her own curiosity of knowledge kept from her that brought her on this haunt to begin with? Was it the same with Naiore? Did her curiosity regarding the nature and purpose of fear and pain drive her thusly? Where they as different as she once believed? Who was she to decide and dispense such justice? Her hand wavered uncertainly, Had she not promised herself after the encounter with the bounty hunter that stalked Vanwe in the stables at the green dragon that she would see no unwarranted harm come to the young elf, yet here she now stood having in Naiore’s words place Vanwe into the very predicament she had vowed to avoid. Was she no better than the haunted elf before her?

Too late she realised what was happening to her, the walls she had carefully constructed not only over the past few weeks but most of her life where being carefully stripped away, one at a time revealing to her the flaws and mistakes of her past. Forcing her to see the events of her life that she would rather forget, but also showing to her all the good she had accomplished in her lifetime, the lives she had touched and saved, the people she had loved and respected. It all fell away until at last in her mind she stood completely alone!

No not alone, something else remained a shadow dark and ominous, it’s touch cold on her very soul. She could feel its elation at finally being free, it swirled and danced drawing together to take form as she attempted to look away. You must face your fears! a soft and comforting voice in her mind urged. Yes this is what this creature was! she could hear it now the discord in the music of her being, a thing that was born with the making of the world, something she now knew she could never escape. She could lock it away but never banish it completely. It was a part of her, a part of them all laying dormant in the souls of each and everyone of them until the time came when they must face it and either defeat it or ever be ruled by it.

Drawing the last of her resolve she raised her eyes to look at the face of her fears, while all her outward appearance remained serene and impassive revealing nothing of the confrontation going on in within. But nothing could have prepared her for want she saw, from the inky darkness of her fears a figure stepped forward, clad in the very darkness from whence it had come a cold chill marking each step. Naiore! she thought unsurprised that her fears would take such a form, but as the figure drew closer she saw that a pale hands wrapped around a bow of finest mallorn and in the other a short sword that she instantly recognised as her own. No she thought drawing back a few steps, It can’t be! She panicked seeing the dark blood dripping from blades stained edges. The figure laughed coldly seeing her revulsion and with a sweep of the blade it drew back more of the darkness to reveal lifeless unmoving figures sprawled at it’s feet.

Noooooooooooooooo! She screamed wordlessly in her mind as the forms were suddenly given faces. Vanwe, Menecin, Amandur they all lay dead at the feet of the dark figure. Who are you? she cried now uncertain that Naiore was her greatest fear. The figure ceased it’s advance and laughed mirthlessly. Do you still not know me? It issued coldly. Then with another quick sweep of the bladed hand the figure drew back the dark cowl that had hidden it’s features and Léspheria suddenly found herself face to face with herself!

She wanted to flee, escaping the face of her fears; recede to the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind, but she could not something… no someone held her in place. Time to heal a soft voice whispered and this time she recognised it as Vanwe’s . It comforted and gave her strength to stand her ground and face the truth of the thing before her. It was a manifestation of her fears, a fear that her gift like a double edged blade could either be used to serve, preserving life or it could consume; Manipulating and taking life till its purpose is Fulfilled. Lespheria feared the latter and the consequences if she could control it! She feared she would become the very elf she hunted

Suddenly everything disappeared and all she could hear was a strong but steady bu bum bu bum bu bum. She gasped horrified, realising that she held Naiore's life in her hands. ‘Just one thought and we could stop it all here,’ a smooth velvety voice whispered, a voice eerily her own, ‘strong we are, stronger than anyone, even this the great revennor of Mordor’ the voice trilled, the abhorrence dripping from it, echoing her own revulsion. 'no!' she cried shaking her head, ‘But she killed her!’ the voice hissed angrily ‘she killed your mother, tortured her for knowledge and for no better reason than that she could!’ The pain of those words chilled her right to her marrow. But still the voice went on enticing her, urging her to take the life of the elf before her and for the briefest moment she actually contemplated just closing one of those great valves that feed the woman’s heart. ‘One thought and it would all be over’ the voice cooed again. ‘No, no I can’t do this! It is my choice it will always is my choice and I choose not to carry the sins of our fathers, I will not kill one of my bloodline, I shall not dishonour my mothers memory with such a vile act and I will never become that which I detest! No Naiore will not die by my hand.'

Léspheria came back to herself suddenly. What had felt like hours locked within her own mind had been merely moments. Her eyes searched out Vawne’s and found unspoken a silent understanding. Before she could speak Menecin had moved between them unaware of his daughters intervention and as he prayed her put aside her bow she did so, now knowing that spilling Naiore’s blood that of kin would only hasten her fears to reality, no if Naiore was fated to die it would not be by her blade or bow.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Menecin

A thin voice spoke breaking through a rush of thoughts, reminding Menecin how simple it would be to end this suffering, offering a refuge but one viewed only as if at a distance. And Naiore’s words wound through his consciousness. If ever you loved me, strike him down! What right had he to delay, and so hold all of them trapped in this decisive moment, when the days of a man seemed only slightly longer than that of a flower growing wild in the field? Truly what was life but cares unending, and suffering endured? How mercifully short were the sorrows of the Edain!

Yes love her he had, and deeply, but now a much larger burden overshadowed that love. Menecin would not raise his hand against Amandur, but staunchly held fast as Naiore sought to influence him, skillfully bringing to bear a thorough knowledge of his character. And looking with dismay at Amandur, Menecin backed away quickly sheathing his sword, lest he weaken. Standing thus, between Léspheria and her mark, he effectively safeguarded Naiore and his daughter from the threat of her bow. But the dour elf’s blue eyes, glinting under his darkened brow, did not miss Amandur’s subtle advance, even as he stood watching Léspheria. Nor was he all unaware of Naiore. The rustle and sharp intake of breath behind him, betrayed her movements. And he knew that she had shifted, pulling Vanwe even tighter as she slid quite close behind his left shoulder. "This madness must not come to be!" he cried to Léspheria, "For all that she is and was, Naiore is undeniably your kin! I pray you, put aside your bow."

Amandur then spoke to him conciliatory words the elven warrior did not hear, but with one fluid motion Menecin reached over his shoulder and snapped his arm forward again, releasing a long bladed knife. Coming to rest with its tip buried deeply in the ground before Amandur, the weapon’s haft swayed forward lightly touching the ranger’s boot. "I entreat you Amandur, for the sake of us all, come no closer!" the elf warned. An unspoken voice tore at his mind, as he reached over his left shoulder as if to grasp his remaining knife, and he noticed Amandur’s body flex as the ranger prepared to dodge the blade. Now! Do it now, my love! Naiore’s melodious voice urged from within the deep recesses of his thought, almost as though issuing from his very being.

For one final instant, Menecin wavered. Then, abruptly, he spun on his heel and flew toward Naiore. Caught off guard, the Ravenor pulled back, dragging Vanwe with her, but, hampered by the awkwardness of her stunned captive, she could not move quickly enough. Springing forward Menecin threw out a hand and coiled it in Naiore’s long braids, jerking her fair head backward as he sought to upset her footing. Enraged, Naiore loosed her grip on Vanwe and struck wildly back toward Menecin with her dagger. The blade flashed in the moonlight as it sailed wide of its mark.

"Flee now, Vanwe!" ordered the Bard between clenched teeth as he arched his body to avoid Naiore’s murderous attempts to free herself. "Do not look back!" Without a sound, Vanwe did as she was told and slipped free, running blindly toward the safety of Léspheria and her bow. Just then, Naiore brought her dagger around low and struck for Menecin’s leg. An immediate burn informed him that she had succeeded in grazing his knee with the point of her blade. Grabbing for her wrist, Menecin sought to disarm her before she could do him more grievous hurt, but Naiore proved too quick. With a single stroke upwards, the dagger's keen edge severed her braids just above Menecin’s grasp. And as the Ravenor twisted gracefully away from him, Menecin was left with nothing more in his hands than rapidly unwinding ropes of gold silk.

"Do not suppose that you can prevail over me, Menecin," she whispered sternly. I know you far too well. I can show you peace... but you must follow me. "

"You foretold long ago that my passions would prove my defeat. Would you now bring it to pass?" asked Menecin as her plaits he let fall from his fingers. "You have never known peace, Naiore, nor would you acknowledge its worth. But the peace you would promise is only to be found in the Halls of Waiting. For years in Imladris I longed for even such peace, to sit in my shame beneath those of Vaire’s tapestries that proclaim your ignoble deeds, and thus feel closer to you. But even those days you have taken from me.

"Are you then grown greater than those profane of the Ainur after whom your heart follows, that you would hope to avoid their fate?" Menecin raised a scarred hand, as though intending to touch the Ravenor’s lips and coax the words he wanted to hear from them. "Still with a word you and I will leave this place, but do not ask this thing of me again." He looked over his shoulder toward the ranger, "He is but an unfortunate witness to something that should never have been known among the firstborn, and I will not dishonor you by doing what you would have me."

"You have changed very little Menecin," Naiore sighed. "And unfortunately you still allow those you call your friends to divide us! I do not know why you choose to cleave to them when it is plain that they disregard your wishes! Did you not tell Vanwe to leave?"

And turning, Menecin discovered that Vanwe indeed had not left them as he had urged, but stood now at Léspheria’s side. This posed difficult for him, but he could not ponder it long, for quite suddenly Vanwe grew uneasy, and Valaindon’s daughter quickly pulled her bowstring taught, pausing as she searched for a clear shot. For a fleeting moment Menecin felt as if she would slay him, but turning his head he saw in an instant the cause of their alarm. Naiore had raised her own weapon, and leaning into the grip as the arrow took flight, he knocked it off its course, so that the heavy dart, indeed one he recognized as his own, flew hissing among the grasses.

In great anger Menecin turned on Naiore, his eyes smoldering. Meeting his gaze, Naiore lowered her bow. A smile as cold as the morning frost touched her lovely features as she looked at him. Then, putting the bow aside, she drew one of her curved swords from its scabbard. Without hesitation Menecin took a step toward her.

"Whose life would you have, pray tell me?" he asked. "Léspheria’s? Vanwe’s? Or perhaps mine, in time." He watched her with piercing eyes.

Naiore did not respond, but listened impassively, as though indulging the outburst of a froward child.

Menecin continued angrily. "Know, Naiore, that the blood you would now spill is your own! This is the choice you have set before me and at long last I stand ready to accomplish it." Menecin drew his own sword and raised it in challenge to Naiore. Her expression remained untroubled, but Menecin knew that if she felt him incapable of harming her, then that was to serve to his advantage, for he knew her well.

"Menecin, you once held that there exists a deeper strength which fear could not corrupt, yet look at what you have let yourself become," said Naiore coolly, a predatory light growing in her clear eyes as she observed the small droplets of blood the arrow had freed, that were now trailing down his arm.

"I remember it well," he said gruffly. "In those days you preferred to surround yourself with far softer stuff." His war hardened eyes lowered as he searched her perfect frame for a weakness in her armor. "Truly I have never seen one arrayed for battle with such graceful elegance." A sad smile rose to his face, as his gaze returned to meet hers. He felt suddenly weary, and the sweat beaded upon on his brow though the evening was mild.

But Naiore was no longer in the mood to humor the bard, and in one flowing motion stepped forward, swinging her sword level so that Menecin was forced to spring back in order to avoid the blow. Quickly brandishing his own weapon he charged at her recklessly. After a few fruitless attempts it became clear to him that she anticipated his every stroke, countering him so effectively he thought that to overpower her was his sole option, for each feint and thrust was met with one of equal artistry and skill. It was only then that he became aware that his mind had begun to reel strangely. And his reactions slowed as he sought to ensnare her, so that he was forced to change his technique, and discovered that Naiore had only limited success when he moved less intuitively. Finally with great effort was he able to overwhelm her, sending the sword in her hand spinning to the ground. Even as this sudden sickness threatened to overtake him, he seized the opportunity that fate had given him and as she reached for her second sword, bridged the distance between them closing her in his embrace, so that her arms were held behind the quiver at her back, pinned close against his brigandine armor.

There breathless in the night, he dropped his sword clumsily as Naiore sought to free herself in vain, and holding her tight, he reached for the last of his knives, a thin and deadly bodkin. In the darkness he found two ornate arming points at her closely fitted waist. Slipping the bitter edge behind them he snapped their leather cords; so that Naiore’s armor lay open at her side. With trembling hand, he held his arm outstretched prepared to drive the dagger home. "Forgive me Vanwe," he cried glancing up quickly, struggling to focus through tear rimmed eyes, hoping against hope that his daughter had flown free of this unhappiness.

[Nerindel]

Vanwe

Events unfolded so fast that Vanwe was barely aware of what was happening. She had barely managed a faint smile of assurance for her cousin when her fathers broad shoulders blocked her view, she was pulled roughly forwards till both she and her mother where mere inches from the bards left shoulder. A stifled gasp escaped her lips as her father reached over his shoulder and threw the blade that landed at the rangers feet effectively halting his advance. What is his mind? she thought wildly, but her initial fears were dispelled and replaced with shock and horror as her father suddenly spun round and flew at them, obviously as stunned as she her mother clumsily tried to drag her backward attempting to avoid Menecin’s grasp. Then with a sharp jolt she felt her mother grip loosen.

“Flee now, Vanwe!” her father urged through clenched teeth as he strained to avoid Naiore’s attempts to free herself, “And don’t look back” he added. His words and actions frightened her but she did as he asked, running blindly towards Léspheria, were she fell into the elf’s waiting arms. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Léspheria instantly asked, a concerned frown arching her soft grey eyes. Vanwe did not answer as she looked back to where her mother and father were locked in terrifying battle. “This is not what I had hoped to find,” she sighed mournfully, “In truth I knew not what to expect, but not this.” A pained look reached her eyes as she wearily shook her head. “His fears drive him and will consume him if he lets them,” she whispered turning so that her tear filled eyes met her cousins.

“Do not worry so, our fears can also give us strength, you showed me this,” Lespheria counselled a gentle hand coming to rest assuredly on her left shoulder. But Vanwe merely sighed shaking her head, “I fear it is not so with him his pain is great, the madness has stifled his strength, anger and fear now guides his hand.” “He may yet survive you should not give up hope.” Lespheria urged “And then what!” Vanwe replied sharply shrugging free of her cousins consoling hand, “When guilt and grief consume him, will only death then free him?” a sullen silence ensued broken only by the sounds of battle before them.

Vanwe closed her eyes wearily contemplating the enormity of her own words, how had it come to this? What was the flaw that drove her mothers hatred of them? As her eyes slowly opened she was surprised to see her father looking at her his dark features etched with pain and sorrow, but even as her own sorrow again began to fill her heart, her eyes widened in horror behind her father her mother drew forth a dark bow and nocked an arrow firmly in place, she shifted uneasily and turned to Léspheria only to see that the elf had already again nocked her own bow and held the string taunt looking for a clear shot that could not be found. Turning back she gasped as her mothers arrow took flight, breathing only again when her father harmlessly knocked it aside. Her relief was short lived as in a fit of anger her father again turned on her mother.

“We must stop this!” she declared turning back to Léspheria and to her mild surprise the elf nodded her agreement, “What do you intend?” Vanwe thought for a moment, “They must face their fears and learn the truths hidden from them, but to do this I must get close. I do not have your gift nor my mothers, I sense a wrongness and I am able to heal.”

“You sensed fear as a wrongness?” Léspheria frowned, “Yes” Vanwe nodded, “ a discord within, that is how I sensed it in you and it is so with my father and will be the same with my mother no matter how deep she has chosen to bury it” she gestured towards her battling parents. “The ranger he is different though he does not bury his fears nor does he let them rule him, he uses them, awaking a greater strength born from the basic instincts such as survival and need.” she watched as Lespheria’s features softened and her gaze sought out the man she had fallen in love with. “Indeed we could learn a lot from men?” she sighed . “Perhaps” Vanwe replied still finding the rangers presence frightened her, perhaps it was that of all of them he was the only one who’s hands where not tied in this matter. She did not know why, but his presence unnerved her and reassured her at the same time.

“This thing, this answer my mother seeks you know it don’t you?” she asked shrugging off her doubts regarding the ranger. Léspheria looked at her for a long moment then nodded “I do, but it will not avail her it’s master, the one who planted this seed of discord is no longer, shut out beyond the mortal world by Manwe the greatest of the Valar after the final battle for the Silmarils, banished to the void without, alone with his own hatred and malice, he can never return while the Lords of the west remain enthroned.” Vanwe nodded, not fully understanding the extent of the history of her people, but sensing enough to be certain that Léspheria spoke the truth. Touched by her cousin’s trust and honesty she assumed to asked no more.

She had sensed the source of fears stirrings within Léspheria as she had helped the elf face them and she knew how to awaken it, this? she mused, is this the real power her mother seeks to understand, would this answer satisfy or would she go further. Perhaps even as far as try to dethrone these Valar these beings that Both Léspheria and her father hold in such reverence. To free fears creator for her own selfish needs, is her pride that great that she believes herself above all else? Vanwe felt almost sick at the thought as she watched her mothers dark figure counter and press her fathers attack, she frowned realising that his reactions were steadily slowing.

“The arrow” Léspheria uttered reading her thoughts. Yes, off course she mused, the one meant to subdue not kill. Her eyes searched the ground and found the dart nestled in the grasses immediately to their left. But as she moved to retrieve it Léspheria grasped her wrist and she turn to see that her father now stood with Naiore firmly in his embrace the moonlight glinting off the blade in his raised hand.

“No!” Vanwe cried already moving forward, her hand catching her fathers wrist mid-thrust, “the dart” she called back to Lespheria her eyes not moving from her fathers as the blade cut into her lower arm, “This is not the way, the pain and guilt will destroy you!” she whispered softly “A guilt that is not yours to bear, you loved her, there is no crime in that. You said yourself that the flaw was hers, she made her own choices!” her eyes softened with compassion and understanding as she broke down the walls of his defences and laid bear his fears and the truths that for so long had eluded him. “Please father, I need you!” she whispered pleadingly.

“It is too late for him my daughter the madness has taken him, he would kill us both. See now how he does not release the very blade that draws your blood! If you really love him you will end his suffering now and quickly.” But even as her mothers words cut into her thoughts her fathers pain turned to a tired weariness that etching his battle worn face. Finally aware of the blood trickling down his daughters arm and in a mix of shock and dismay he released his grip and the blade fell harmlessly to the ground. He Lowered his head partly in shame and partly due to the subduing effects of the potion mixing with his blood. Vanwe let go his wrist and brought up her hand to gentle raise his head, “I will need your strength for a little longer, do you think you can give it” she whispered softly gazing into his glazed eyes, he nodded and brought his other hand about Naoire’s waist holding her fast.

“You foolish ungrateful child, I give you life, made you strong by letting you experience and see the terrifying realities of this world. Yes I could have raised you myself, but you would not have survived !something darker would have used you as a weakness against me or made you their plaything if you proved weak, I saved you from that and this is how you would repay me!” Naiore issued through clenched teeth as she again struggling to break free of the bards embrace.

Vanwe‘s steady gaze shifted then to her mothers and she smiled gently “and for that life I am forever grateful,” she answered truthfully.

“I once feared and hated those forced by you to be my keepers, but now I realise that their actions were a mere result of their own fears and superstitions, a lack of understanding that I can now forgive. For what comparison did they have to show then any different, the only elf they had ever know was the great Naiore Dannan, Revennor of Mordor right hand to the devil himself!” sighed Vanwe heavily the truth of her own words sending a cold chill down her spin.

“I never wanted to believe the rumours, even though they hunted me relentlessly, Umbar, Gondor, Rohan they all had their stories each more terrifying than the last, but I had to believe that it was not true, I had to have hope! But they were all true or at least versions of the truth! I had hoped to find a family I thought I had lost, but instead I found myself. ” A small tear escaped her eyes as she smiled sympathetically.

“You accuse Léspheria of vengeance yet the thought is ever in your mind, you say you are more sinned against than sinner yet your own trail says otherwise, you make bargains with my father that you never intend to keep and this…” she said holding her left hand out so that Léspheria could place the dart in her open palm, her long fingers curling around the shaft she brought it before her mothers face, “this was never intended to kill, though the young merchants fears may have caused him to wish it!”

“No, my father is not dieing,” she whispered seeing her mothers anger mixed with a fleeing look of disappointment, “I am surprised you do not recognise it’s effect’s they are similar to a draught you once had me drink!” then with a quick flick of her wrist she scratched her mothers flesh with the tip, “I’m sorry” she whispered, but your sins are many and you must see the truth!”

Tossing the dart harmlessly aside and sensing both Léspheria and Amandur protectively at her left and right she tore away her mothers armour and placed her left hand on her mothers chest. Instantly she felt her mother throw up protective walls of defence in her mind, but it mattered not for Léspheria had shown her that there fears steamed much deeper and that’s what she searched for. Not finding what she was looking for she closed her eyes concentrating harder looking for the wrongness she had sensed in the others, but she could not find it, It has to be here! she thought pushing deeper within her mothers dark soul.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she staggered backwards her hand pulling away as if it had just been burnt, “No, that can not be!” she whispered her eyes widening as she stared unbelievably into her mothers grey eyes. “without fear, there can be no regret… no compassion…no true love,” she whispered to herself, tears now flowed freely from her eyes. “I am sorry, I hoped to help you but I can not, no one can.” she sighed, then turning to the Ranger she nodded “If apprehending Naiore Dannan is your charge then so be it, though I warn you she is without fear and nothing can be done in this world to fix that wrong.”

Then turning back she saw a strange gleeful look in her mothers eyes like she was close to finding the answers she sought, but pity filled Vanwe for she knew that her mother no matter what she believed would never truly understand the fear she lacked. “It is not a gift to be without fear,” she whispered her hand coming up to touch her mother’s bare cheek, “but a curse! You will never fully know or understand the beauty of life, the strengths bestowed on us in life for life.” with a final sigh of pity her hand slipped slowly away and she turn with a heavy heart and walk away to allow Amandur to take his charge.