Journey From Darkness

Title: Journey From Darkness 2/10

Author: Mayetra

Disclaimer: All things Tolkien belong to his estate; I only borrow them on occasion and always return them in good working order. I write fan fiction solely for my own enjoyment and do not claim any copyright or ownership of his works nor do I have intent to make financial gain. All original concepts and characters are from my own twisted plot bunnies and remain my property.

Author’s Note: Please note that I am changing canon somewhat for the purposes of this story. There is much debate to whether Glorfindel of Gondolin and Glorfindel of Rivendell were one and the same. It seems that Tolkien left notes that they indeed were, so I will bow to the master’s wishes and write my tale with that belief firmly in place. The Elvish is a mix of Quenya (High or Court Elv and and Sindarin (Common Elvish). They are marked with an asterisk (*) and their definitions can be found at the bottom of each chapter.


*~*
Chapter Two: Dignity

Faile gave a valiant effort, but in the end the guards won and she was dragged kicking and screaming to the guest bathhouse where the rest of the handmaidens were waiting.

It took the guards and Lantare several minutes to strip the armor and light cotton undergarments off the struggling girl. The taller guard promptly picked her up and dumped her unceremoniously into the large communal bathing pool.

Faile sank beneath the warm water then as her feet found purchase, she stood sputtering and coughing. A cry of fear mingled with rage escaping her lips. The water covered her to the waist and it felt strange against her skin. Around her, the water was clouded gray from the filth that was washed off her body. Before she could make her way to the side, Lantare and the four other handmaidens joined her. They spent the next thirty minutes scrubbing her free of years worth of dirt and grime, Faile struggling all the while. Finally the fight went out of the exhausted girl and she stood in sullen silence as they washed her hair. After several washings, Lantare announced that she was satisfied Faile was clean. They led her up a set of steps at the far end of the pool, dried her briskly with a towel, and then wrapped her in a linen robe.

Faile sat silently as they clipped her ragged nails and brushed the snarls from her hair. She kept her eyes shut tightly against the tears that threatened to spill forth. Never in her wildest imaginings could she have conceived of a torture such as they forced upon her. Water was scarce and it was sacrilege to waste it bathing, besides the fact Faile was not sure if she liked the feel of it against her skin. Finally, her hair was free of tangles and hung in a silken mass down her back. Its length surprised Lantare, before the bath it had hung just past Faile’s shoulder blades but now fell nearer to her waist. Lantare quickly weaved the top and sides in a long braid, leaving the hair in the back free.

Faile was pulled to her feet, the robe was removed and a sheer chemise quickly replaced it. She had little time to appreciated the thin silk garment before an under tunic of silver silk followed it. A deep blue over tunic of velvet completed the outfit. It hugged her waist but flowed freely over her hips, split in the front to reveal the shimmering silver fabric beneath it. The edges were embroidered with tiny silver leaves. Lantare added the final touches of a silver linked belt and suede slippers dyed to match the gown. Stepping back, she admired their handiwork. The promise of unawakened beauty shone in the pale face, even with the dark circles under Faile’s eyes marring her white skin. A thin silver scar ran from her left earlobe along her jawbone, an old sword wound, but it was faint and could barely be seen.

Lantare glanced out the open window and frowned, more time had passed then she realized. She quickly dressed and fixed her hair. Then she lightly grabbed Faile’s arm and hurried her from the bathhouse. “The evening meal will be starting any time now. Hurry, my Lady, or you will be late.”

The gown and all its trappings felt strange to Faile. The neckline of the gown was scooped and revealed far more skin than she was comfortable with. Having little choice, she hurried after the quickly moving handmaiden, followed by the guards who had been assigned to watch her.

They arrived outside a great hall, lined on two sides with great arches. Tables ran the length of the room, Elves mingling amid them, greeting each other. Cloths of light green embroidered with dark green thread covered the long tables. Candles flickered in holders set amid vases of flowers down the center of the tables and still more candles in holders were scattered along the walls or in great candelabras standing freely about the corners of the room. There was a hush as Lantare gently pushed Faile forward through one of the arches following close behind her. Faile tried to move backwards from the room, suddenly embarrassed by the attention but Lantare kept a firm grip on her elbow.

Erestor turned to see what had caused the sudden silence in the dining hall. If for for Lantare’s presence he would not have recognized Faile. Gone was the dirty waif he had met just hours before. He turned back to Glorfindel and was surprised to see the older Elf was clearly shocked by her change as well. Smiling inwardly, he commented, “She is quite fetching once you get past all the dirt.”

Glorfindel quickly collected himself and said, “She is too young and thin for my tastes.”

“Ah, but is not the rosebud on the verge of blooming a beauty unto its own?” Erestor could not resist one more teasing jab at his friend.

Glorfindel cast Erestor an annoyed look before moving to collect their guest as the buzz of conversation once again filled the hall.

Faile’s breath caught in her throat as she wat Glo Glorfindel thread his way through the crowd, his graceful movement not distracting from the power he radiated. Golden hair flowed loosely down his back and over his shoulders matching his amber tunic and leggings. Faile was acutely aware of why these Elves were called the Calaquendi* for though his skin was golden it seemed to be illuminated by some inner light.

The dinner horn sounded and the crowd moved to take their places. Glorfindel stopped in front of Faile and bowed slightly. His cobalt eyes sparkled with mischief as he lifted her hand and lightly kissed it. “I trust you are well, my Lady.”

Faile flushed slightly. “I am fine despite being stripped of my possessions and my dignity.”

Glorfindel through back his head and laughed merrily, drawing attention from several nearby Elves, who looked over in wonderment. “Your possessions are safe and will be returned in time. As for your dignity, I am willing to sacrifice it for the sake of seeing you free of dirt. Let us call a truce for now and enjoy our supper.” He deftly maneuvered her hand to his arm and escorted her to the high table.

He pulled out a chair to the right of the high seat at the head of the table and then after she was seated, he sat in the chair to her right. Faile looked at him in confusion, “Is not the high seat yours?”

“Nay, I am but the Seneschal of Imladris*. Lord Elrond is at court.”

“But I thought you were to hear my petition. I must resolve this matter, I have been away from my people for far too long as it is.” Faile’s voice held a tone of panic.

“Easy child, I will hear you petition before Ithil* sets this night.” Glorfindel eyed her thin frame and wondered when she had last eaten a decent meal.

Faile turned her attention to her table setting. She ran her fingers over the engraved silver plate before picking up the silver fork to inspect it. A servant filled Faile’s silver goblet drawing her attention to it. She picked up the goblet and peered at the liquid inside. It was a deep plum color and had rich, tangy smell to it. Faile sipped it experimentally and finding the taste appealing, drained most of the goblet.

Faile watched as platter after platter was set amid the candles and flowers. She could not identify most of the food but anger filled her as she realized that what these Elves consumed for one meal would feed her people for a week. Hunger soon overtook anger as a servant filled her plate with slices of aras* and a variety of cooked vegetables; the entire affair was covered with thick, brown gravy.

Without a second thought, Faile reached down and began to stuff food into her mouth using her fingers to scoop it up. She had not eaten since the previous day and was famished. The food tasted wonderful.

Glorfindel watched as Faile wolfed down the food on her plate. Her table manners were sadly lacking and he doubhunghunger was overruling any sense of decorum. He motioned to a servant to fill her plate again, feeling repentant that he had not thought of providing her sustenance earlier but making her wait until dinner.

A servant quickly exchanged Faile’s empty plate with one filled with fruit and then refilled her empty wine goblet.

Faile sniffed the fruit lightly and, not finding the scent unpleasant, continued her frenzied eating pace. All the while, steadily draining the wine from her goblet. Never before had she partaken of such a variety of food, new tastes assaulted her tongue – spicy, sweet, tart. Faile ate until she could not force herself to swallow another bite.

Glorfindel watched as she sat back with a content sigh and slowly licked her fingers clean. He could not help but become aroused at the erotic picture her innocent action invoked. Her cheeks were flushed from too much wine and he wondered idly if she would look such caught in the throes of passion. A horn sounded signifying the end of dinner and Glorfindel shook his head to clear it of his errant thoughts.

Lightly grasping Faile’s arm, he assisted her to her feet. “Come child, I will hear your petition now.”
He led her out of the dining hall and away from the second hall where the Elves were gathering for their nightly ritual of song and music. Faile walked somewhat unsteadily as she had imbibed several goblets of wine and the alcohol was starting to affect her sense of balance.

They left the main path and walked through a garden until they were well away from the sounds of merriment. Glorfindel finally stopped when they reached a somewhat secluded portion of the gardens near the edge of a cliff. He motioned for Faile to sit on one of the carved benches scattered amid the small manicured glade. An iron railing covered in ivy ran along the cliffs edge muffling the sounds of the waterfalls below.

“Now child, tell me of the plight of your people.” Glorfindel said without preamble, dropping to the bench next to her.

“First, I am no child and I am tired of being called such. I have lived for over three hundred seasons and I am well passed the age of majority. My name is Faile.”

Glorfindel smiled for she had lived but a blink compared to him. “As you wish, Lady Faile.”

“Mar Mordollo has long been under siege since before my birth. We call them the Saurihos*, evil creatures that ride the Warg as we do. What game they do not slaughter is scared away so that there is little to eat. If something is not done soon, my people will cease to exist.”

“How is it that you were able to find your way here?” he asked.

“A lone rider or a small hunting pack can evade the raiding parties with ease. There has not been a full-scale assault on our gates in many months. Some say that they have given up but others feel that they are gathering a force greater than we have ever seen.”

“I can tell you that Sauron’s forces are a plague upon the land and they would not just give up.” Glorfindel informed her. “Still, if food is so scarce, why not leave to more fertile ground?”

Alcohol loosened Faile’s tongue and she said more than she would have ordinarily. “Because my father wiot hot hear of leaving. He is set on staying. I will no doubt spend many a week in The Pit for seeking aid from you but if it saves my people, so be it.”

“What is this pit of which you speak?” There was a slight edge to Glorfindel’s voice but Faile was too drunk to catch it.

“A darace ace deep within the mountain it is covered by a sturdy iron door. Only those who have broken the sacred laws are put there for punishment. They say that the shadows are alive and will devour those foolish enough to step past the light. The condemned are given a blanket and three long-burning torches for every day they will spend in the dark of The Pit. They are fed only once a day. Most survive, though a few have gone mad. The rest are never seen again.” Faile shuddered at the thought.

“And your father would condemn his heir to such a fate?” Glorfindel asked in an outraged voice.

“Heir? If my father falls in battle, it will not be I that takes his place. Only the strongest of us lead, a contest of skills is held and the winner will become the new king. Beside by coming here I have defied my King, father or not, who commanded that no help would be sought from the Calaquendi.” Faile replied calmly thought her face took on a pinched look, for her stomach was beginning to ache.

“You will spend no time in this pit, I can assure you of that.”

Faile jumped to her feet and stared coldly down at Glorfindel. “You have no say in the matter. He is my King first and my sire second. If he commands this thing, I will obey!” Her voice was hot with rage.

“You disobey his command and seek us out yet you will allow yourself to be punished in this manner.” Glorfindel stood to his full height. “That, Child, is a contradiction in logic if I have ever heard one. If you wish our help, then you will obey me in this matter.”

“Obey you! I am Alpha of a hunting pack and answer only to my liege. You can not mean to punish my people, they need your help whether I obey you or not.” She started to say more but her stomach lurched and rolled. The food had been rich and she had eaten more than her shrunken stomach could handle.

Glorfindel watched as Faile blanched and then scurried over to the railing. For one brief moment, he thought she meant to throw herself over but then the sounds of retching reached his ears. Sighing, he walked over and gently pulled her hair up out of the way.

Faile continued to heave even though there was nothing left in her stomach. After a time, she turned and walked on shaky legs to a nearby bench.

“Wait here, I will return momentarily.” Glorfindel instructed her before turning and leaving the garden.

He returned several minutes later with another Elf in tow. “This is Aranince. He is one of our healers.”

Aranince asked Faile several questions regarding her diet and then gently probed her abdomen. Faile winced, as her stomach muscles were still tender. Aranince stood and spoke quietly to Glorfindel.

“My Lord, the food has proven to rich and the wine did not help. I will have a tea sent to her room to settle her stomach. Her diet will have to be modified until she become more acclimated to our richer fare.”

“Thank you, Aranince.”

The healer inclined his head slightly and then left the clearing.

Glorfindel helped Faile back to her room. Lantare appeared moments later with a cup of hot tea.

“Thank you, Lantare. Please return to the ivitivities. Your mistress will have no need for you tonight.”

Lantare departed and Glorfindel turned his attention back to Faile. “I will send a missive to Lord Elrond at court in regards to your situation. Until he responds, I must insist that you remain our guest.”

Faile sipped the tea slowly, hoping it would sooth her stomach as the healer had promised. “Why must I wait? I should return as soon as possible. If you are corrected and the Saurihos come back, they will need me. I can tell you where to find Mar Mordollo* should you decide to aid us.” Secretly, Faile doubted these people could be of any help. They seemed weak to her with their easy, carefree lifestyle. They had lived long in luxury and most likely could not withstand the hardships of war.

“My Lord may wish to speak with you and I still have questions that need answering. But we shall wait until tomorrow when you are feeling better.” Glorfindel crossed the room, pausing at its threshold, “Until then my Lady, rest well.”

Faile scowled at the retreating Elf-Lord’s back as he left the room. She finished the tea, her stomach feeling much better. She eyed the bed longingly for it looked very comfortable but the room was too open and exposed for her tastes. Sighing, she opened the wardrobe and crawled inside, closing the door behind her.

In the darkness, she let her mind wander over the day’s events. She missed Carch greatly but contented herself with the thought of the litter his mate had whelped not long before she left. She had already claimed one of the young males. The golden Elf-Lord was another matter; there was no denying she felt a strange attraction to him. However, he was too high-handed for her tastes, ordering her about as though he were her liege. He would have to learn that she was not an Omega, content to be ordered about. She smiled to herself as her eyelids drifted slightly shut. She slipped into the dream state all Elves find rest in, Glorfindel figuring prominently in the musings of her subconscious.

*~*
Lantare entered Faile’s room, only to find it empty. Rushing to the balcony, she looked out to see the guards were still below. Lantare did not know how she had managed to elude the guards both below the balcony and outside her room. She went back to the hallway, “The Lady is not in her room.”

The taller guard frowned and lifting the curtain scanned the room quickly. Dropping the curtain, he said, “Go Lantare and inform Lord Glorfindel. Caladar andill ill begin a search of the grs.” s.”

Lantare found Glorfindel at the archery range and quickly explained the situation to him. Glorfindel cursed and ran towards the guest chambers.

“My Lord. We have searched the gardens but found nothing. I do not know how she got passed us.” Caladar briefed Glorfindel in the gardens outside the guest building.

“Did you search her room?” He asked the younger Elf.

Caladar paled, “No my Lord. We did not think of it.”

Glorfindel uttered a second, more colorful, oatforefore running up the stairs to the guest hallway. He entered Faile’s room and crossed to the bed. Throwing back the comforter, he dropped to his knees and looked under the bed. The dust lightly covering the floor showed no signs of recent disturbance. Rising he looked over to the only other hiding place in the room, the wardrobe. He walked over and opened the door. Curled in the bottom was Faile, her eyelids barely open. Sighing with relief, he looked over to the other occupants of the room, both of whom were looking quite sheepish. “Wake her, Lantare, breakfast will start soon.” Without another word, he strode from the room.

*~*

Despite a fierce argument, Faile had been unable to persuade Lantare to return her armor and undergarments. Instead, she found herself dressed in an emerald green riding gown. Faile’s only consolation was that the gown’s ensemble included a pair of leggings. However, the matching suede-riding boots were light and offered little in the way of armored protection.

Lantare had insisted that she be allowed to fix Faile’s hair. Faile thought it was a foolish thing to waste time with and would have been content just to pull it out of the way in a ponytail. However, she begrudgingly allowed Lantare to brush out the tangles and pull the entire mass into one tight braid down her back.

Finally, Lantare seemed satisfied with Faile’s appearance and they left for the Dining Hall. Faile made a mental note to herself not to eat as much, lest she become ill again.

This time, little attention was paid to Faile when she entered the room, much to her relief. Glorfindel and Erestor entered a moment later.

“Good morning, I trust you are feeling better this morning.” Erestor greeted Faile and then taking her arm, escorted her towards the high table.

“Yes, but I would really like my armor back.” Faile frowned down at her gown, before continuing. “This gown is impractical.”

Erestor laughed lightly, igng tng the look of irritation Glorfindel was flashing him. “The gown looks quite lovely on you.

“As I have told you before, you have no need of armor or weapons.” Glorfindel interjected as he pulled out Faile’s chair.

Faile took the offered seat. “And as I have told you, I need to return home. I have been gone far to long as it is.” Her voice carried loudly across the hall, causing the occupants to turn interested stares in her direction. Glorfindel was a great Elf-Lord who was much loved, for his deeds were great and well known. He was always addressed with a measure of respect.

“Now is not the time nor place for this debate. Let us, at least, break our fast before we continue the thread of last eve’s discussion.” Glorfindel took his seat and was surprised when Faile nodded her agreement.

Silence lay heavily between them as the morning meal progressed. Erestor attempted to draw them both into light-hearted conversation but Faile refused to acknowledge Glorfindel’s presence. Her gaze was often drawn longingly to the various pastries and tarts that covered the table, but she was forced to be content with the plain porridge that was set before her. At last, much to Erestor’s relief, the morning meal was over and Glorfindel escorted Faile from the table on the pretense of continuing his interrogation of the night before.

Glorfindel led Faile in silence through the halls and paths of Imladris until they reached the stables near the great courtyard before the gates.

Faile turned a puzzled look at Glorfindel when they had finally reached their destination. “Why have you brought me here?”

Glorfindel smiled slightly, “There is something I wish to show you. Can you ride a horse?” He walked over to a stall and lead out a dappled stallion.

Faile blanched for she had no desire to once again be carried on the back of such a great beast. “Nay. Is there not another way?”

“Nay, My Lady, for walking would take too long. I will carry you before me, if you have not the skill to ride.” Glorfindel did not wait for her answer but grasped her around the waist and lifted her up onto the back of his steed. He quickly joined her and before she could protest, and spurred the horse out of the stables.

End Chapter Two

Calaquendi – Light Elvesme gme given to the Elves that saw the Light of the Two Trees (Quenya)
Imladris – Rivendell (Sindarin: deep-dale-cleft)
Ithil – the Moon (Sindarin)
aras – deer (Sindarin)
Saurihos – Foul Folk (Quenya)
Mar Mordollo – Home out of Shadow (Quenya)