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The defilement the orcs committed felt like hours, in fact, in probably had been hours since she and Celebrían had been taken captive and tortured repentantly. Her sister, however, had been spared, hopefully in some aspect, no thanks to her screams of “Take me! I am the youngest!” Celebrían had sobbed hysterically, begging her not to, but all she could think of was Elrond and his children, how she had to protect her sister for the sake of her brother-in-law.
It was, brutal. Black blood smeared with her own crimson as she lay motionless, no longer screaming her throat ragged, she lay still. From a distance, it felt like she was watching it happen, like her soul had departed from her body to witness the degradation. She could sense it all, hear and smell everything, from the thick scent of sweat and blood to the horrid, grating grunts and diabolical laughter.
And when they were done, they simply haphazardly tossed her back into the gated pen that Celebrían was sitting in the corner in. Her sister’s body was covered in cuts and bruises, but there was no sight of blood smeared anywhere below her hips and that made her sister have some feeling of relief deep inside. Celebrían scrambled to her knees, pulling her sister into the corner, hands going from her face to her torso hovering over her lap.
“Oh, oh Eru,” she gagged in her horror as her sister merely curled into a ball on her thighs, not even feeling any of the pain, and passed out. Celebrían merely held her, praying to the One that someone would save them.
***
Something was nagging at her, but she couldn’t tell what it was. A feeling in her chest that felt as if it was tearing away at the very muscle of the organ. She wanted to stay in the darkness she was in. It was cold, calm, quiet—a far cry from what she had left behind. But the feeling wouldn’t quit tugging at her. Finally, she opened her eyes to stop it, but if nothing else, to at least see what it was.
Bleary eyed, she blinked at the figure in white standing a ways from her, a sound coming from it; she continued to squint until her vision cleared and her mother stood before her, lips moving in a continual motion of, “Get up. You must get up.”
“I do not want to,” she said lethargically.
“You must get up, hína nîn,” Galadriel repeated. “They are coming back for your sister. Get up.”
She felt something shift in her chest again, another strong pulse. “I cannot rise.”
Something turned in her mother’s gaze and she raised a hand, a ball of light in it. “They will do to her what they did to you. My child, you must get up.”
“Mother, I—”
“Rise, and protect yourselves!” Galadriel commanded.
***
Her eyes snapped open, and she instantly heard the blood curdling screams of Celebrían ripping from her throat; her eyes darted, catching sight of two orcs pulling her by the arms and the same force in her chest culminated into a violent shift of energy that had the orcs flying and her sister hitting the ground.
She ran, grabbed Celebrían by the arm, and flung her back behind before raising her hands. A force unlike anything that had not been seen in ages emanated from her palms, a blinding, white-hot energy that created a warping aegis around them.
Her eyes were narrowed in righteous rage as she warned the orcs clambering to their feet, “Pass this hallowed barrier and I will annihilate you.”
One of the orcs pulled out his sword, bellowed in his guttural tongue and ran at the barrier; she merely watched as he brought his sword down only for it to shatter into a thousand shards, and when his body met the field, he was consumed by white flame, yelling in pain before he fell to the ground.
She drew her gaze from the dead orc to the ones gathering back behind the barrier and stared them down with deadly eyes. “You will not cross this barrier so long as I stand. I will not fall.”
A bloodthirsty haze fell over the group, and they began screaming in their tongue at her, running to take her down.
***
It wasn’t long before elven arrows pierced the flesh of orcs, a war horn blaring across the mountain side as horses thundered across the rocks and silver swords were slashing at heads and limbs.
She still stood, hands raised in the same position as countless burned bodies lay at the edge of the shield. Blood dripped from her nostrils as the energy of her body and soul went into the force of the barrier, but she would withstand a thousand years of it, if it meant her sister would be safe.
The orcs dropped like flies around them, some trying to flee only to be hunted down by Rivendell and Lothlórien soldiers. She watched, catching sight of her brother-in-law and nephews among the fray.
All but one orc remained, the leader of their pack, held by three elves, each on his arms and one with his head in his grip. Elrond raised his sword, an unexplainable emotion on his face, only to hear from the distance between them, “STOP!”
His blade froze midair, and he spun, seeing the barrier disintegrating. She stumbled, torn and dirtied dress exposing her body as she hobbled towards him. “My Lady—” he started, and she ripped his dagger from his belt with fury.
“He is mine to kill.” She looked at the elves holding his arms. “I order you to cut his limbs off. Leave his head attached to his body.”
They did as she commanded, not feeling a thing but disgust as the orc shrieked in pain. As he fell onto his back, she scrambled atop him and glowered down, shoving the blade horizontally between his teeth to keep his mouth open.
“You have defiled me. I, a daughter of the Lady of Light. You have committed a sin so foul, so grave, so unspeakable.” Her voice grew with her rage, a shaking beginning to rattle the ground around them and the elves looked at one another in shock, if not all-overwhelming fear.
Trees began to sweep from the dirt, exposing their roots with creaks and groans of vengeance, stones fractured, the ground splitting in cracks along the way. Fury stormed in her eyes as lightning flashed across the sky, her voice a force full of seething hatred as she yanked the blade from his mouth, feeling black blood splattering her skin as his cheeks and face ripped. She raised the blade and stabbed down.
“YOU WILL DIE FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!” stab after stab. “YOU WILL ROT IN THE DEEPEST PITS OF WHATEVER HELL YOU HAVE CRAWLED OUT OF!” she continued to stab into his flesh, carving away at the organs in his chest.
Her arms grew tired, but she didn’t stop until someone grabbed her, and she screamed, turning the blade on them, eyes wild as she snarled, “DO NOT TOUCH ME!” she turned the blade on them all. “NO ONE IS TO TOUCH ME!”
The elf, Haldir, her courter, she recognized in her haze of rage, stepped back, his own eyes going wide with concern as she staggered to her feet, covered in black ichor. The blade dropped beside her feet, and she turned to Elrond, her expression dead.
“Take my sister home,” she charged, before turning in the direction opposite of Lothlorien.
His sons were already gathering their mother and Elrond stepped towards her, raising a hand only to remember her warning, asking worriedly, “Where are you going?” his eyes, in horror, saw the state of her lower body. “You need to be healed.”
She merely kept walking. “Do not speak to me of healing. You will never heal what I have suffered. Take my sister home, Elrond. Now.”
It was all she said before disappearing down the side of the mountain, the elves of Rivendell and Lothlórien all stunned and silent. Haldir was torn between helping Lady Celebrían and going after his love, but one look from Elrond, and a quickly barked order to the elves around had him moving to assist Elrond’s sons, his heart aching for his love.
***
- Four hundred years had passed since the attack on the daughters of the Lady of Light. Four hundred years since Elrond had watched his wife depart to the Undying Lands. Four hundred years since he grieved for the loss of both his wife and sister-in-law who was nowhere to be found. Not even Lady Galadriel would speak of her whereabouts, though he had full reason to believe that she knew.
It was a time of celebration in Lothlórien, and he and his children had come to the land to join in the time of joy with their family, welcoming the spring as gold filled the forest along with blooming flowers of all shades.
The party was beautiful, the food and wine delicious, but Elrond could see the sadness in his brethren’s gazes, knew they all missed the Daughters of Light so terribly. Haldir, Elrond knew, was hit just as hard as he was. Both he and her were born the same year, him becoming a sort of knight watching out for her as she grew older. Their affection and devotion to one another was evident to all around them; their people could only wonder when Haldir was to court her, but when the incident occurred, and she vanished, they watched one of their strongest soldiers fall into a deep ravine of grief. Elrond felt for his fellow elf, could only offer wise council to ease their hearts, but he knew Haldir would never be the same until she came home.
The joyous celebration was brought to a sudden halt as a bright light filled the entrance of the dining hall. Everyone covered their eyes, at first assuming it had to be Lady Galadriel, but she was at the center with Lord Celeborn. Soldiers raised their arms, regular elves protecting their partners and children until the light began to dim and, in the center, stood the remaining Daughter of Light who hadn’t been seen for four-hundred years.
She wore a pure, snow-white dress, adorned with a green sash and gold designs all across the front. The patten ebbing up from the edge of her dress was that of the trees of Lothlórien, branches trailing up to her hips. Her shoulders were covered by golden pauldrons, golden wrist guards wrapped around her forearms. Gold sandals wrapped elegantly around her feet and calves like vines.
Her expression was one of calm, and an overwhelming peace filled the sanctuary when she smiled so softly and murmured, “Forgive me for my absence.” Her steps were delicate as she walked up the middle of the tables to her mother and father where she knelt before them. “Mother, father, I have come home.”
The two had rather subdued reactions, but everyone could see the happiness and love in their eyes as they smiled at her; Galadriel reached down, lifted her chin, and asked, “Have you found peace, hína nîn?”
A smile so contrasted to the absolute infernal rage they had seen on her four centuries earlier was shocking, but she nodded. “I have spent four hundred years in solitude healing from unimaginable wounds. My only comfort was the light of the sun and stars.” Her smile was kind, her voice gentle. “I have found my peace, mother. I am whole.”
Lady Galadriel wasn’t even able to say a word when cheers and cries of joy echoed around them, flowers thrown and celebration around. The party continued on, now a third chair at the table of the Lady and Lord, many elves coming to greet and express gladness at their Daughter of Light’s return. Even Elrond came and she greeted him with a hand to her chest and he returned it, but suddenly overcome with emotion, tears gathered in his eyes, and he whispered, “Forgive me.”
She simply smiled and reached up, wiping his tears with her thumbs as she calmly replied, “There is nothing to forgive, muindor.” Her smile only brought more tears to his eyes and with a gesture much like human affection, she pulled him to her and gently rubbed his back. “You have done so much in this time. So much grief and sadness you have weathered for your children and people.” Pulling back, she gazed at him. “Grieve for me no longer, muindor. I have grown.”
He swallowed thickly and reached up, gently touching her cheek as if she were glass. “I am glad you have returned. We have all missed you.” She merely smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges.
***
As the evening drew on, the elves took to dancing in the night, the sound of music lifting the hearts and souls of them all. She stood off to the side, watching with warmth until she felt a presence beside her. “Haldir,” she murmured before looking over. “You look well.”
He in fact looked like hell had come alive. To suddenly see her after so many centuries, his heart had felt as if it had imploded, sunken to the bottom of the seas. “I only pale in comparison to the beauty of My Lady.”
Her smile set him at ease as they looked over the crowd. “Such beautiful music.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, happening to meet the eyes of the harpist who smiled at him. A pretty little elf, a few centuries younger than him, long red hair, and bright green eyes. “Ningannelthel has certainly gathered many eyes and hearts with her skill.”
“I would not doubt that.” She glanced at him. “Perhaps it is time you court her?”
Haldir’s eyes went wide, and he gaped at her. “I—beg pardon?”
“Ningannelthel is not married. Her eyes do not speak such volumes. She comes from a respected line. If you were to court her, it would be a joyous union.” She gestured for him to go. “Please, do not let me keep you. Go forth and court her.” She wouldn’t hear anything from him, saying her goodbyes as she retired for the evening.
***
It was the coolness of the morning that stirred her, and she stood at the highest platform in Lórien, watching the land wake up before her. The air was crisp, a bit chilly even as the sun began rising, but she felt calmness like nothing she had felt before.
Her time in solitude was spent truthfully in a cave, sealed inside the dark as she cursed and screamed her agony for years on end. For two centuries, she dwelled in darkness and rage until the third when she finally had no strength left, and she prepared herself to waste away into nothingness, when a single bright blossom bloomed in the center of where she lay.
For an entire hundred years, she gaze at the golden flower, a soft song like that of Eru sung to her for only her ears, and tears dripped down her face like a river of crystal. Her body, her soul, her mind healed from her suffering as the anger, like her tears, eventually dried up and dissipated, until all that remained was a tranquility. A peace that would measure and level the land for the ages to come.
At the end of the fourth century, she took the flower from the ground and consumed it, the blessings of Eru departed to her, melding with her soul and she saw the Timeless Halls where the One dwelled, was given the sight of the Secret Fire, and bestowed a single gift with many traits. One gift above all, to heal and to protect. She knew then that she served a higher purpose in the course of time; she saw the sun for the first time in four hundred years, and cried tears of exultation.
The sun rising now reminded her of the beauty of the light after darkness for so long. There was such beauty in it, unspeakable, untellable beauty. A presence stood beside her.
“I have heard you decided to not court, Ningannelthel,” she said.
“No,” he answered. “I cannot court whom my heart does not belong to.”
“Your heart belongs to a woman no longer here, Haldir,” her voice was one of pity and he appeared before her, shadows on his face as the sun haloed his hair.
“I have loved the same woman from the moment I saw her when I was a child to even this very moment. I have loved her regardless of what she suffered. I will continue to love her in her transformations. I will never stop loving her, no matter who she is now or who she was then.” He gazed at her with a look of seriousness unlike himself. “I have never loved her more than in the four centuries I spent waiting for her to return to me. And no one will ever love her more deeply and more timelessly than I have.”
Her heart beat in her chest like normal, but it was abnormally strong as she took in his words. “You would have me? Even though I am not who I once was?”
He knew what she meant. Much like the stories of her mother’s prideful spirit being tempered by humbleness, he saw the same. No longer prideful like she had been prior to the incident, snarky and mischievous. Now, she resembled her in demeanor and soul like her mother, calm and humble. And ever-dispelling well of wisdom and love.
Haldir knelt before her and took her hands in his. “I would walk the land until it is destitute if it meant I could have you in the next life.” He stared at her. “And even if you left again, still I would wait for you to come home, even if it meant I only could take one glance at your face.” His heart came pouring out of his mouth. “If one day you command me to stand in place, I would stand there until you told me to move or until I returned to the ground. If you told me to go in search of what your heart desires, I would not stop until I had found every piece and brought it back.” Tears filled his eyes, and he choked out, “If one day you commanded me to give my heart to another, I would rather pull it from my chest and bury it in the earth, for the love I bear for you was only given to me by the grace of Eru to worship you with.”
She fell to her knees and laid her head on his lap, tears seeping into the cloth covering his legs; he held her, tears falling down his cheeks.
“I have waited for you this long, meleth nîn. If I have to wait longer, then I shall, but I will always love you, and nothing will ever even come close to being able to dim my devotion.”
Rising, she met his eyes and took his hands in hers. “I do not know if I can make you as happy as you wish to be, Haldir. I do not know if I can give you what you wish.”
He shook his head, a teary smile on his face as he confessed, “Whatever you give to me, I will be satisfied with. So long as I can hold you in my arms for all eternity.”
She leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and whispered, “Melin gin, Haldir.”
“Melin gin, meleth nîn,” he murmured, their smiles rivaling the brightness of the sun.