Tears 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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“We cannot leave him!” Alexandra struggled against the arms that held her. Looking at Legolas she could not believe he would prevent her from pursuing the beasts who had taken Erestor.

“We will not abandon him, but we must get these people to safety,” her husband replied calmly, not allowing his own anger and concern to show. Orophin and Naveradir were tracking the beasts and would leave a trail for the others to follow. He did not like leaving the pursuit, but the mortals needed them. They could not make it to the city without aid.

Rumil released her as she sagged against Legolas. The Lorien Warden did not like the situation either, but the mortals were unable to defend themselves and many of them were injured. They could not abandon them, and he knew Erestor would understand the need to protect them.

“Come, my love,” Legolas told her. “Let us see to the injured and get them somewhere safe as soon as possible so we may pursue Erestor’s captors.”

“They’re taking him to Lastharos,” she stated in a dull voice. The Elf would be tortured, likely abused and probably killed. It went against everything in her to leave him to such a fate. But she knew the needs of so many outweighed the pursuit of one ellon. It was a bitter truth she struggled to accept.

“I know,” Legolas replied. “But he is an old Elf, wise and strong. He will be able to outwit Lastharos much easier than I could. And these people need us, Alexandra.”

She sighed and nodded, looking at the dead, dying, injured and mourning mortals. They had been attacked apparently at random. None of them were taken, but many were hurt or killed along with many of their beasts of burden. Their belongings were scattered and much of them destroyed. It reminded her of harassment raids meant to disrupt supply lines and demoralize the people. From the carnage surrounding them, it seemed to have been an effective move.

“Can you feel him?” Saelbeth asked Glorfindel as they gently removed the body of one of the women who had died protecting her child. The babe was not very old, but sensed his mother’s loss, crying piteously as Saelbeth picked him up, cradling him in his arms as he soothed the child’s fears.

Glorfindel sought his friend in his heart. He knew Erestor had fought the creatures, killing at least one before he was taken. He also knew the ancient counselor had been injured a bit, but not seriously. He could still sense him, but it was fading; the beasts were taking him far from where they had found him. The Elf-Lord was glad Orophin and Naveradir were tracking them. The Lorien Elf was a superb tracker and Naveradir was somewhat familiar with the language and layout of the land, moreso than any of the others in their party. Once these humans were safe, he would personally see that whoever---likely Latharos---had taken his friend would suffer retribution.

“He lives,” the golden-haired Elf-Lord replied. “I do not know if that is a good thing or not, however, considering he may be bound for the dungeons of the Butcher of Khand.”

Elladan and Elrohir were livid with anger and vowed to find and destroy the creatures who had wrought such destruction and taken their teacher and friend. Both of them sympathized with Alexandra’s feelings and agreed with her; still, they would do their duty. Erestor had taught them well and they knew they must make certain those who could not protect themselves were safe.

The Elves did what they could to stabilize the injured and with the help of the mortals who had not been badly hurt, recovered as many of the carts and animals as possible. The wounded were placed in the carts and on litters built from materials salvaged from the devastation. Arming those who could wield a weapon, the Elves and their mortal charges set out for the city where the caravan had originally been bound.

***

“Open your gates,” Vanurion called, the child in his arms terribly still.

The gatekeeper shook his head, terrified of the sight of so many Elves and the wounded, devastated humans with them. One of his companions looked down, then ran to consult with the town’s leaders. Until he had word, he would not let the Elves inside.

Elladan swore and turned to Haldir.

“They are so frightened of us they would let their people die?” The grey-eyed ellon shook his head. “There are more of them than there are of us. Surely, they do not think we pose a threat.”

Haldir frowned as his gaze took in the frightened mortals on the walls.

“I do not think we are the only thing they fear,” he replied. “Note how they continue to look to the skies, and to the surrounding countryside. It is almost as if they expect danger and we simply compounded it.”

Elladan and Saelbeth, who was on Haldir’s other side, the two small children on his horse before him sleeping through the entire affair, studied the townspeople. Saelbeth nodded.

“Whatever attacked the caravan must be a widespread danger.”

“We know what attacked them,” Elrohir sighed as he rode up to them. “It is Lastharos and his minions.” He looked at the injured female who slumped back against him. “He is no better than Sauron.”

“Worse,” Haldir replied. “He is insane and butchers his own people. Sauron had plans, albeit dark ones, and attacked those he perceived as enemies. Everyone, it seems, is Lastharos’ enemy.”


“There is a storm coming,” Rumil commented. Indeed the smell was in the air and the wind was picking up. Alexandra looked at the cart in which several dying men lay.

“These people will die out here in the weather.”

“They will likely die anyway,” the Lorien Warden replied. At her sharp glance, gave a tiny apologetic smile. “I am sorry to be so blunt, but it does not appear the people of the town are inclined or even able to provide aid to these refugees. They are also not inclined to allow us into their city.”

Several of the mortals who were not injured severely ventured to the gates and began to plead with the gatekeeper. The man bit his lip and was visibly distressed, yet he was insistent that the gates remain closed.

Alexandra swore then turned to look for Legolas. He was comforting several children near one of the carts. She frowned for a moment, wondering why they were out of the small wagon, then his gaze met hers and she could see sorrow. Glancing at the cart, she saw the body of a female, likely their mother, and even from this distance, could see the woman no longer lived.

Looking once more at her husband, she noted how easily he comforted the children and was again struck with regret that she had doomed her beloved to a childless future. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath and gathered herself. It would not do to be distracted by her own petty concerns. Too much was at stake.

At that thought, she wondered how Orophin and Nevaradir were doing in their quest to follow the creatures that had taken Erestor. She prayed they would find him soon and he would not suffer at the hands of Lastharos though the odds were against him escaping unscathed. Glancing at Helcarin and Glorfindel, she wondered what they must be feeling. Erestor was Glorfindel’s dear friend for millennia and was Helcarin’s father. Had it been her father, she would have gone after him with no thought to anything else. But Helcarin and his other father had remained to fight for the mortals who were at the mercy of the beasts of darkness. Again, she marveled at the selfless sacrifices made by her husband’s people.

After what seemed an interminable wait, a new face appeared upon the battlements, looking down at the assembly of Elves and wounded mortals.

“Why are you here?” the newcomer demanded.

“These people were attacked and injured on their way here. They need healers and shelter. A storm approaches and many are helpless women and children; most of them are wounded.” Vanurion did not let his anger show in his voice, but wondered why he had to keep repeating their plight to everyone in this town.

“You just want to get in here so you can kill us too!” a voice shouted from further down the battlement. Others joined in, expressing their suspicion on the Elves.

Elladan looked to his companions and swore again.

“They will let their people die because of their own petty fears!” He could not abide seeing the innocent suffer and the people of this town seemed intent on sacrificing the injured, frightened people of the caravan on the altar of their suspicions.

Saelbeth sighed. “We do not know why they are so fearful, though we know they find Elves terrifying. Still, it seems there is more to their fear than simply us.”

Vanurion let the shouts die down before once more asking for aid.

“We came upon these people as they were being attacked by creatures of darkness. We have tried to help them, but we can only do so much. They need your healers, your medicine, and they need shelter from further attack.”

“You come here on his behalf!” another voice called. “You seek to destroy us from the inside!”

“No, we do not!” Pomea had had enough. She rode up to the gates. “Who do you fear? Why are your gates closed?”

“The Butcher of Khand will send his demons here to kill us,” the man next to the gatekeeper replied. “How do we know he did not send you?”

“Lastharos is no friend of ours,” Vanurion told them. “He has taken one of our own. The Khandun leader seeks the destruction of our people.”

That statement caused a murmuring among those gathered on the walls. Speculative glances were aimed at the Elves and after lengthy discussion the gates slowly opened and the man who seemed to have some authority called down to them..

“You may enter. The enemies of Lastharos are welcome here.”

The party made its way inside and the injured and frightened mortals were taken by suddenly helping hands to find food and healers. The Elves and Alexandra remained together and she was aware of the stares and whispers of the crowd surrounding them. Her companions, however, ignored the glares and furtive glances along with the hushed conversations with impeccable Elven dignity.

The man who had addressed them from the wall came up to their group, looking at them curiously but with very little obvious fear.

“I am Perswold, Keeper of this city. Who among you is the leader?” His gaze traveled over the group, focusing on Vanurion. The dark-haired Elf touched his chest and bowed respectfully.

“I am Vanurion, Lord of the Elves of Rhun and will speak for my kin.”

The Keeper nodded. “Very well. You may take shelter within our city, but be aware your kind are known only by legend and the stories are not pleasant. Do not expect warm welcomes from the people here.” He nodded toward a large barn-like structure down one of the side streets. “You may stable your horses there and there is room for you to rest. The town well is at the center of the city and there are buckets in the building for you to gather fresh water. I will see what food can be spared for you.”

Vanurion nodded. “Thank you, Perswold. We will take our leave once our horses have rested and fed. We do not require food the way your people do, and would not take your stores.”

Perswold gave a short nod of dismissal then turned and walked away. Glorfindel urged his horse on in the direction of the barn and the other Elves followed. The townspeople watched them with low mutterings and somewhat hostile eyes, and Alexandra was glad when they had entered the barn and bolted the door.

The building smelled of fresh hay, oats, leather and horses and Legolas was reminded of Edoras. He smiled as he thought of his friends in Rohan and suddenly longed to visit the Golden Hall where he could sit and laugh, drink and enjoy the company of Eomer and the Horselords.

Though it was dark in the building, the Elves had no trouble seeing and Alexandra, due to her circumstances in her previous life, could see as well as her husband and his kin. The horses were fed and combed in the cool gloom of the stables as Haldir found the buckets for water. Handing two to Rumil and keeping two for himself, the brothers started to go to the well when Pomea called to them.

“Perhaps it would be better if Alexandra and I were to go to fetch the water.”

The two Galadhrim paused and Haldir frowned.

“Why should you go? We are capable of gathering water.”

“Of course you are,” Alexandra replied, taking the buckets from his hands. “But you’re also Elves and male and these people find you threatening. I’m a mortal woman so I’m no threat whatsoever; and Pomea is just so pretty, they wouldn’t be afraid of her.”

The elleth laughed, taking Rumil’s buckets. “See to the horses,” she called to them as Alexandra unbarred the door. “We will return shortly.”

Once the door was closed behind them, however, Pomea’s expression turned serious.

“There is something oppressive in this town. It is as though they are waiting for something to happen.”

Alexandra nodded. “I think they are expecting to be attacked and we seemed the likely suspects. For all they know, we are a forward party sent to probe their defenses.”

The elleth nodded. “The sooner we leave this town, the better it will be for us. I fear they may try to do something unpleasant.”

The woman thought of just what a Rhunian Elf would find unpleasant and decided she did not wish to know. The Elves of the east had seen and done many things that Legolas and his western kin found appalling. If Pomea was uneasy about the people of this town, then there must be something bad at work here.

As soon as they left the building, Alexandra and Pomea could sense eyes watching them.

“These people don’t like us at all,” Alexandra commented and her friend nodded.

“The stories of the Elves in the east are not pleasant and my people have done nothing to change the image the mortals have of us.”

“In a land ruled by Lastharos, though, you’d think they’d have scarier things to worry about,” she replied, noticing two women with a small child, pulling the little boy back behind them as if to shield him from the Elven sight.

They followed the streets until they found the well at the center of the town, quite a way from the building where they were taking shelter. Along the way, suspicious and often openly hostile gazes followed them and Alexandra’s patience was wearing thin. Pomea did not seem to notice, but then she had that exquisite Elven dignity that made the Firstborn always seem serene.

By the time they reached the well and began drawing the water, Alexandra was certain there was going to be trouble; she could simply feel it in the air.

“Perhaps we should have brought Haldir and Rumil with us,” the elleth murmured, well-aware of the city’s mood.

“We would’ve been attacked long before we got here if we had,” Alexandra answered softly. “At least these people seem hesitant to attack females.”

No sooner had she said the words than a voice called to them.

“You butchered those people, did you not?”

“No,” Alexandra replied. “What purpose would that serve? We do not even know them … or you. Why are you so angry?” She had one bucket filled and was lowering the second.

“You say you are no friends of Lastharos, but we have heard the stories of the Elves. They take mortals and enslave them. Then they take all that we have.”

Looking at Pomea, the elleth shrugged. “Goroth did such things, though not in Khand.”

Alexandra sighed, pulling up the second bucket, then turning to face the one who was trying to bait her from the crowd.

“I am mortal and I have not been enslaved. You are going on legends from thousands of years ago, and the actions of one dead Elf in particular. You know nothing about Elves, so stop speaking on subjects of which you are ignorant.”

A man stepped forward, his face twisted with anger and hate. He was a large man, sturdy and had the appearance of one who did hard physical labor.

“You try to tell us these Elves are here for our benefit? They come to slaughter us and open the gates for Lastharos.” He pointed an accusing finger at Pomea. “They try to lull us into complacency with their beauty, but we know it is simply to hide their lascivious, covetous hearts.”

“You are a fool,” Alexandra replied coldly. “Lastharos is an enemy of the Elves and he has done much to earn their revulsion.” Picking up her buckets she and Pomea started back toward their quarters.

“So it is merely coincidence that you arrive here as the Butcher’s armies sweep through our land and head toward us?”

The man’s words stopped both females and they turned to look at him.

“Lastharos is sending troops here?” Pomea asked. “Why?”

The man spat. “As if you did not know,” he sneered.”

“Pretend we don’t,” Alexandra replied. “Why is Lastharos sending his army here?”

“Because of the prophecy,” someone else answered and the two females looked at the new speaker.

“What prophecy?” Pomea asked in a calm, pleasant voice. It seemed to soothe the speaker somewhat and a young man stepped forward. He was not as bulky as the first man to speak, but they could see he also did hard physical labor and his flesh was tanned from working under the sun.

“Lastharos ordered sacrifices to read the omens for his plans to conquer more territory and it is said a prophecy has been read in all of the signs across the land.” He studied the females curiously. One was obviously mortal, though she was tall for a woman, and the other was most definitely an Elf---her beauty, poise and those delicately pointed ears were unmistakable.

“And what has that prophecy to do with us?” Alexandra asked.

The young man turned his gaze back to her.

“It foretells of a golden sun arising from the northwest to burn away the evil of Lastharos and wash the land in the Tears of the Valar. The leader has sent his armies in this direction to destroy everything he thinks might be a threat that will fulfill the prophecy.”

Alexandra started to reply, but something in Pomea’s expression stopped her. The elleth then smiled at the young man.

“Thank you for telling us. We did not know of such a prophecy and did not know that Lastharos was sending his army here. We must think on this new information.” She gave a slight bow to the young man then turned and strode swiftly toward the barn where they were billeted.

Alexandra wanted to question the townspeople further, but said nothing, catching up with her friend instead.

“What is that all about? You look worried.”

“Do I? I am sorry, Alexandra. I do not mean to upset you.”

The woman waved off her concern. “What about this superstitious garbage got to you? It’s just idle talk started by Lastharos no doubt to justify his newest atrocities.”

Pomea shook her head. “We must tell the others. If the Khandun army is coming here, we may have a chance to find Lastharos and wherever he is, we will likely find Erestor.”