Gifts of the Valar.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.
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Rumil did not awaken Charika when he heard the shrieks from outside and the other Elves moving quietly, but quickly through the keep. He slipped from where they were resting and taking his sword and bow, joined the others. When Sarendir’s guard told them of the slaying of the vampires, they searched the inside of the keep, Rumil, Erestor and Vanurion each taking one of the three towers while Cunion, Glorfindel and Orophin searched the vast dungeons and Pomea and Durisia covered the main floors of the central building. They all met in the main hall, reporting everything appeared secure.

“The last time we encountered these things, Lastharos was behind it,” Glorfindel said. “I do not think it a coincidence that they have shown up here.” He looked pointedly at Erestor who sighed and told the others what they had discovered in Neveradir’s journal.

“Would such longevity of life be possible for one of the Secondborn, even with the help of the sacred waters?” Pomea asked. “He would be at least 7000 years old now.”

“Without knowing how the waters work, what their properties are, I cannot say,” Cunion replied. “Possibly he would need to replenish himself or the waters. Whether he ingests them, bathes in them---until we know how they work, speculation is useless.”

“Then it is possible Lastharos may be found at Cuivienen,” Rumil mused. “And he would be more vulnerable there than he is in Khand.”

“We need to know more about the waters and if it is even the same Lastharos,” Orophin counseled, looking at his brother. “If we are to be successful in finding him, we cannot act rashly.” He could see Rumil was annoyed, but knew if his brother did not reign in his emotions, his quest for vengeance would not be satisfied.

Rumil held his tongue, but his eyes showed his impatience.

“The fact that Goroth also sought the waters and may have used them as well is most disturbing,” Vanurion said. “If the waters do have rejuvenating powers it would help to explain the seeming timelessness of this place.”

“But as Cunion says, until we know more about the waters and how they were used, speculation has no substance,” Glorfindel replied.

“I do not like the connection between Lastharos and Goroth,” Erestor said. “From what Legolas said, Lastharos told him he had never seen an Elf before he saw Legolas and that he ‘believed’ there were Elves in Rhun so that would lead one to believe he and Goroth had no contact. I suggest we try to find any more information on just the waters or Lastharos. We have a map now so we know where to find them.”

“Dawn will be here soon,” Orophin observed, looking through one of the windows. “These creatures do not seem to like to move about during the daylight.”

“No, they are creatures of darkness, as are all of Morgoth’s spawn,” Glorfindel replied. “But simply because they do not ‘like’ to move about in the light does not mean they cannot. They simply are not as powerful.”

Pomea and Cunion went to the kitchen to get things ready for the morning meal as the others began helping Erestor and Durisia go through the journals and papers that seemed to have the most promise of telling them more about Goroth’s use of the Waters of the Awakening.

Rumil went back to the chamber he shared with Charika. She was awake, sitting in front of the window watching the skies lighten and did not turn around when he entered the room and he put aside his bow and sword, calling her name softly. When she did not respond, he crossed the room quickly and put his hand on her shoulder. She jumped and let out a soft squeal before turning eyes that flashed with terror before filling with relief as they focused on him.

“What is wrong, my love?” he asked, his voice soothing and calm though inside he was tense.

“I awoke and you were gone, my lord. I … I thought you had abandoned me.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “I would never do such,” he replied softly, stroking her hair as he lightly pressed her head to his chest. He had not left her alone at night since she had returned to his care. It occurred to him she had not awakened without him in weeks and mentally cursed the creatures of darkness for forcing him to leave her this night.

He felt her relax against him and led her to one of the chairs, pulling her into his lap, wrapping her in his embrace. They sat in comfortable silence until the rising sun gave the room a faint golden glow, then went down to join the others for breakfast. He did not notice that she cast a glance back toward the mirror in the room, her eyes widening before turning quickly back to follow her Elven warrior, gripping his hand with both of hers tightly.


When Rumil had slipped silently from the room, Charika slept on, oblivious to the activity throughout the building and surrounding grounds. When she did awaken, it was dark and quiet in the room and she at first felt secure in the arms that held her close against a firm body. The room, however, was growing colder and the same type of silence she remembered from the terrifying evening when the hunting party returned, fell. She noticed she could not even hear her own breathing, much less that of her companion. It was some time before she realized the embrace was not warm, and not only could she not hear his soft breathing, but could not feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest pressed against her back.

She opened her mouth to call to him, but could not force a sound to escape. She certainly could not move and lay frozen with fear. The woman could not tell how long she lay there, but was conscious of the cold arms wrapped around her body, colder than the air in the room. Charika was so frightened even tears would not come and could only stare into the darkness.

Her eyes fell on the mirror mounted on the wall, tilted down so that she could see herself. She concentrated and eventually made out the outline of her body. What chilled her even more, though, than the coldness surrounding her, was the sight of a dark shape behind her, holding her as a lover would. It did not move and was simply a blackness in the shadows.

She did not know how much time passed as she stared at the obscure reflection, but eventually, grey light began to seep into the room and with it came some warmth. Charika realized the dark shape was gone and she no longer felt as if she were being held in an icy embrace. She heard her own ragged breathing and was able to move.

The woman crawled across the floor, then pulled herself to stand shakily, grasping the bedstead. There was nothing in the room with her and she wondered where Rumil was. She wanted to go and search for him, but was afraid to go out into the vast keep alone. Not in the dark. Charika made it to the window and stood there looking out as the landscape gradually lightened.

The sense she got of the dark and the cold was not the same as when the monster visited her. Her ‘true master’, as he called himself, had not come to her since the day in the bathing pool with Rumil, Orophin, Legolas and Alexandra. This was … different.

When Rumil had touched her, her thoughts had been miles away, wondering if something had happened to him; if he had left her here alone. His hand on her arm had startled her, and at first she thought her dark visitor had returned. But when she turned and saw his beautiful face, his light blue eyes watching her with concern she immediately felt relief and safety wash over her. His arms held her and she once again felt safe and secure and not a little ashamed. How she could have thought he would abandon her … Charika nestled against him until time to go to breakfast.

As they left the room, she glanced back at the mirror and for a moment, a dark shadow in the vague shape of a man appeared in the reflection, looking as though it were watching them from the shiny surface. She gripped Rumil’s hand tightly and turned away. She could not tell anyone about it---Rumil was an Elf and he did not seem to sense anything. It had to be her madness. Though it reminded her somewhat of the flitting shadows she sometimes saw, it had more definition than any of the others. They seemed to be merely brief flashes of deep grey sliding quickly over walls, around corners, across the ceiling; they never remained still long enough for her to really see them. This shape, however, stood and looked at her; and it had held her in a disturbingly intimate embrace.

Charika followed Rumil into the light of the dawn rising through the windows of the keep. She felt no menace now; she never did anymore when Rumil was with her. As if unconsciously reading her thoughts, the Elf looked down and smiled, pulling her against his side, his arm around her shoulders as they went downstairs to join the others.


Those who had kept watch the night before joined the rest for breakfast. Some of Sarendir’s Elves took the morning watch and Rumil and Charika passed them as they headed to the dining hall. They greeted the others and took their seats, Rumil putting some fruit, bread and cheese on a plate to share with his lady.

Alexandra was sitting between Legolas and Orophin, tired, sleepy, somewhat grumpy and completely oblivious to the Elven beauty surrounding her. She kept drifting off to sleep against one or the other Elf’s shoulder, waking only when one of them would force a piece of fruit or cheese between her lips. They finally gave up and left her where she was propped against Orophin.

The others did not discuss the previous night’s happenings in front of Charika though the woman could tell something was amiss. Their speculation on the Waters of the Awakening also avoided any mention of Lastharos in her presence.

Helcarin was surprised, excited and somewhat miffed by the news of Naveradir’s journal, though Erestor explained he had wished to have all the facts available before presenting them to his son. The young Elf simply smiled and thanked his father for his dedication to thoroughness. He turned to say something to Glorfindel and noticed his other father watching Charika. Turning his attention to the woman, he caught a glimpse of something once again hovering near her, then it was gone, as if aware that it had been seen by someone other than the object of its attention.

Glorfindel met his son’s eyes and an unspoken message passed between them. As soon as breakfast was over, he took Helcarin aside.

“It is like one of the shadow figures,” Glorfindel said, “but appears to be more substantial.”

“What can it be?” the young Elf asked. “Could it be related to Lastharos in some way?”

“I do not know. I get no sense from it. It is simply … there.” Glorfindel frowned in thought for a moment. “I wonder if we are confusing things.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if there is more than one power or force involved here and we are trying to relate them all together?” Glorfindel looked out of the window at the garden, somewhat unkempt, but not wildly overgrown as one would expect from a place that had been abandoned for several years.

“You mean the things we are seeing here or the presence that hovers about her at times may have nothing to do with her ordeal with Lastharos?”

The Elf-Lord nodded. “She has not had any more visits from ‘the beautiful beast’, as she calls him, since Rumil has once again taken her into his care.”

“There was the one time immediately after they returned to each other, in the bathing pool at Vanurion’s keep when she said the beast was there. But no one sensed anything.”

“It is possible her ‘visits’ from Lastharos were only the torturous dreams of a damaged mind. What is actually ‘haunting’ her may be something else entirely.”

“But,” Helcarin pointed out, “the appearance of the vampires last night would indicate a connection to Lastharos. You have all said that they were all around when last you encountered him. Alexandra said he seemed to use the vampires as scouts.”

“True,” Glorfindel agreed. “Still, there is the possibility that the vampires and whatever has attached itself to Charika are unrelated.”

They related their discussion to the others while Rumil and Charika were bathing. Legolas, having just returned from carrying his wife to bed, caught the end of their conversation.

“Then it may be as Alexandra suggested; the events immediately following her pregnancy were all products of her mind.”

“That possibility is entirely feasible,” Cunion said. “But you also sensed a presence near her then as well, did you not?”

Helcarin nodded. “It was the same as this one. No true sense of any intent, good or ill; it was simply there.”

“Perhaps we should ask Charika about it,” Pomea suggested. The others looked at her in surprise. “She is stronger than you think. True, her mind may have tortured her about Lastharos---look at what she has endured from him, and I do not mean simply the time she and Legolas were taken. Still, she has survived. We treat her as too fragile. Is it because she is mortal? No one thinks of Alexandra as too delicate for inclusion in our discussions and plans. I find it insulting to Charika that we treat her with any less respect than we do Legolas’ wife.”

The others pondered her words and agreed that yes, they did treat her differently from Alexandra. But …

“Charika is of a more fragile nature than Alexandra,” Sarendir said reasonably. “Alexandra was a warrior among her people. Charika was an … ornament.”

Pomea gave a very un-Elf-like snort. “Perhaps she was an ‘ornament’, as you say, because that was all she was ever taught to be. Still, she managed to survive, doing things no Elf could have done, after her lord left her in that village before the war. And she survived life in a harem being raped repeatedly by men like Lastharos simply because she was considered ‘an ornament’. And what she endured when she and Legolas were taken … No, I believe she has proven remarkably resilient.”

The Elves were quiet as they digested Pomea’s argument. True, an Elf would not have survived the things Charika had. She had led a life that, upon close examination, was actually quite difficult, always subject to the whims and desires of others, never truly having a say over even her own body.

“You speak truly,” Legolas said quietly. “I have seen with my own eyes the punishment she is able to take both physically and mentally. Things that would have killed an Elf, she endured. Things that should have killed her, she survived.” A brief memory of his acceptance of Morgoth’s offer to heal the woman when she had been stabbed by Lastharos in what was almost certainly a fatal location flashed through his mind and was quickly suppressed. “And I know Alexandra would tell us we are merely perpetuating her perception of herself as helpless by treating her as such.”

Orophin and Haldir exchanged glances. “You may be correct,” the Marchwarden replied. “Convincing Rumil that not protecting her so much is an act of kindness, however, will not be easy.”

“Then someone should explain it to Rumil,” Erestor said.

“Explain what?” The young warden entered with Charika, the woman holding his hand and not looking at any of the room’s occupants.

“Our plans to further help solve this mystery we find ourselves in the midst of,” Glorfindel said with a smile. “Orophin, Haldir; perhaps you can help me explain what we have come up with to your brother as we search through some of the outbuildings for any documents we may have missed.” The four Elves departed, leaving Charika suddenly alone with the others. She stood in the center of the room, hands clasped, eyes downcast. Pomea called to her.

“Come sit over here by the window,” the elleth said pleasantly. “It is warmer here as the sun stays on this side of the building for most of the day.” The woman walked over and took a seat on one of the large chairs that were angled so the view and the room could both be enjoyed.

“Where is Alexandra?” she whispered to Pomea.

“I believe she is upstairs sleeping,” the elleth replied, glancing at Legolas.

Laughing, the prince nodded. “She was quite tired and you know how cross she becomes when she is denied sleep.”

Charika smiled. Yes, Alexandra’s ill tempers were well-known.

The eastern Elves, Helcarin and Erestor read through the journals and papers that were unknown as to contents while Legolas kept the piles separated and organized, as he could not read Quenya. When Glorfindel and the brothers of Lorien returned, the Elf-Lord began reading as well and the brothers joined Legolas in keeping the stacks organized. The others noticed Rumil seemed somewhat apprehensive, though no one mentioned Lastharos by name.

They worked through the morning into the early afternoon, when Alexandra appeared at the door of the library announcing that she was hungry. Legolas went to her and kissed her in greeting, then whispered something in her ear. She nodded and then kissed him again before turning to Charika.

“Come with me to the kitchen,” she told the other woman. “Legolas does not trust me to find anything edible without supervision.”

Charika, knowing Alexandra was as helpless as a newborn babe when it came to food preparation, went with her. She had seen the dark figure in the mirror that hung above the fireplace in the library, but had said nothing. It had just been there, not moving, but she could see that it was watching her---or at least that was the impression she received. None of the others seemed to notice or see it. Still, with Alexandra, she felt safe; her friend was a strong fighter, even though not an Elf, though with the ill-temper she was famous for having upon awakening, she no doubt made up for any deficits in strength or skill.

Alex looked around the kitchen as if entering an alien realm. Legolas was correct; she did need supervision in anything culinary. She looked at Charika helplessly and the other woman smiled.

“How did you survive before you met Legolas?” Charika scolded as she directed Alex to gather water from the kitchen well.

“Others did it for me,” Alex called back as she lifted the bucket, filling the pot with water and carrying it back to the preparation area. She watched with a touch of envy as Charika took seemingly random ingredients and soon had something that smelled delicious bubbling over the fire. Bread had been baked that morning and would be used with the stew though Charika began making dough for fresh loaves for the next morning. Alex found she enjoyed the kneading part of making bread; she could beat the hell out of things with no problem.

As they worked Alex tried to decide how to approach Charika about the things the others were seeing. Legolas had told her of Pomea’s words and Rumil’s reluctant acquiescence, and asked if she could find out from Charika what the other woman was experiencing. She decided the direct approach was the best.

“Do you still see Lastharos in your dreams?”

Charika paused in measuring flour. “No.” She turned to her friend. “Why do you ask?”

“I do not want you to be tormented by that … piece of garbage,” Alex replied. “When was the last time he visited you?”

“That day in the bathing pool.”

Alex nodded. “Is there anything else, though? You still act like you see things from time to time.”

Charika bit her lip, glancing around. There were no shadows in the kitchen that she could see, but she still lowered her voice.

“There are … shadows.”

Alex felt a slight chill. “What kind of shadows?”

Charika once again glanced around the room. “They move. They do not seem to actually do anything, but sometimes, I hear them. They whisper. They call my name.”

Her friend nodded thoughtfully. “But they do not try to touch you or …?”

“No.” Charika shrugged. “The other shadow, though; he says nothing, but he watches me and last night … he touched me.”

“Last night?” Had they missed a shadow figure slipping in while the vampires held their attention?

Charika nodded, relating the events of the night from the time she awoke alone until she and Rumil had gone down to breakfast. Alex listened with growing concern.

“Is this the only time you have ever seen this particular … entity?”

“Yes. But then today, I saw him in the mirror in the library. He was just watching me.”

“You know it is male?”

The eastern woman shuddered. “Last night he held me to him. Yes, Alexandra, he is male.”

Alex thought for a moment. “Listen, Charika. Last night something happened.” She proceeded to relate the events of the previous evening, including the appearance of vampires. She also told Charika how some believed there was a connection between Lastharos and the Waters of the Awakening; that he was a man who had become immortal through the use of the waters. The other woman listened with wide eyes. When Alex was done, she waited for Charika’s reaction.

“So that is why Rumil left---he was searching for more of Lastharos’ creatures,” she mused. She looked at Alexandra. “I do not believe this shadow that visited me is Lastharos or one of his minions. I cannot explain it, but I do not feel the same as when I was with him in Mordor or when he visited me in Harad or here in Rhun.”

“Does this shadow seem threatening to you?” Alex could only imagine the terror of being held in such a dark and cold embrace. Pomea had been right: Charika was much stronger than the others gave her credit.

“No. It is frightening, but it is just … there.”

They finished preparing the dough and set it to rise. As she was wiping her hands clean of flour, Charika looked at Alex speculatively.

“The others treat me like I will break. You do not. Why?”

“They’re Elves,” Alex said with a short laugh. “They always think mortals are fragile. Sometimes they have to be reminded of our strengths. They are natural protectors and you are someone who appears to need protecting. Do not fault them for it.”

“I do not,” Charika said. “It just … angers me sometimes. I can protect too,” she added with a whisper and Alex was struck with a sudden insight.

Charika was not insane. She knew she had borne a child. The look in her eyes was that of a fearful mother.

“Why?” Alex turned Charika to face her. “Why do you deny him?”

The woman’s eyes flashed with anger, fear and determination. “He must never be in my thoughts. His father will find him and he must never, ever know.” Her voice dropped. “Lastharos has tried to drive me mad, but he can sense me and he would know of him. It is all I can do for him.” She clutched Alex’s arms. “Please, Alexandra. Do not force me to remember him anymore. The best I can do for him is keep him from my mind. If I deny him enough, I will begin to believe he does not exist and Lastharos will not see him in my heart. ”

“I will not mention him again to you,” Alex promised, pulling the woman into a comforting embrace. “Bury him deep. He will be safe.”

They rejoined the others, and with some prompting from Alex, Charika related everything that had happened to her since their arrival at the keep. Helcarin and Glorfindel exchanged glances when she mentioned the uncanny silence and the feeling of being watched on the evening she had been alone before the hunters returned. When she told them of the shadow in the mirror, all eyes immediately went to the one hanging in the library. It showed only the room and its corporeal occupants.

“Can you still see it?” Orophin asked. She shook her head.

“He is not here right now. I thought he might have followed me to the kitchen, but he seems not to like to be around others.”

Helcarin and Glorfindel told them of how they had glimpsed a shadow earlier that morning in the dining hall and that it had seemed to vanish once it realized others had seen it.

“These other shadows … the ones who speak. Did you see them at my house?” Vanurion asked.

She nodded. “I thought they were … his. But here, I do not know. There are more of them here and they speak, but I cannot understand them. They do not approach me. But they are different from the one in the mirrors.”

“I will not leave you alone again,” Rumil said. He had been shocked and angered by her tale of the previous encounters. That she should be so tormented and suffered in silence was profoundly disturbing to him.

“Rumil, I have not been harmed,” she surprised them by saying. “I do not think the voices I heard at Vanurion’s home come from the same place. That was the voice of Lastharos. I know it; I have heard it for many years. These whispers … I do not recognize them. And this shadow has not spoken to me yet. It frightened me, yes; but it has not given me reason to think it will harm me. If it does, then I will deal with it at the appropriate time. But do not worry about me, my lord.” She reached up and caressed his cheek. “I do not need a guard or a nursemaid. I may be mortal and a female, but I am not totally helpless. I do not see anyone afraid to leave Alexandra alone at times.”

That her words were so close to Pomea’s gave the others pause. Alexandra and Pomea exchanged glances. Charika had come a long way since they had begun teaching her how to defend herself. She would never be a formidable warrior, but she was no longer at the complete mercy of others.

Rumil nodded slowly. “You are correct, my love. Forgive me for doubting you.”

She laughed and kissed him lightly. “I do not blame you for wanting to protect me. You are an Elf and that is what Elves do.” She glanced at Alexandra and both women smiled.