The Lost

The Lost

Chapter 2
Author: Frosty the Dairy Cow
Rated: NC-17
Codes: Elrond, Legolas, Aragorn, Haldir, Galadriel, OC, AU, N/C
Summary: After the defeat of Sauron, Elves and Men go to war. The reason, though, is not so clear. Contains real plot.
Notes: Elvish translations are at the end of each chapter.
Disclaimer: LOTR is not mine. Bleh.


*

Anólindë stood patiently watching Elrond speak with Lady Galadriel. They had been awoken early, told of a band of elves traveling from the east. Elrond had set up a large number of guards to watch for them. Even when elves were their only ally, they did not trust those they did not know.

"Lord Elrond becomes more suspicious each day." Haldir, standing beside her, leaned to her ear. "Soon he will suspect you of treachery."

Swatting him on the arm, Anólindë glared at Haldir's bemused expression. "You should not say such things," she said, turning her eyes back to Elrond, "He has helped us greatly."

Haldir sighed and pursed his lips. "While true, and while I was only joking, do you not see him becoming more anxious over this war? He would see the world of Men destroyed."

"Would you not?" Anólindë looked up at her friend with curious eyes. Much of her time was spent patroling, she rarely spoke with others regarding the war. It had been going on so long, one almost forgot the reason for it. "They struck first."

Frowning, Haldir looked back at the Lady. She was seated, looking up at Elrond as he spoke to her. "They did strike first. They deserve our vengeance." He looked down at Anólindë with sad eyes. "Is that our mantra?"

Anólindë shook her head. "I do not know any longer," she sighed, "They took our haven from us, that is all I know."

"Indeed they did. And for that, they deserve to be eradicated." When Anólindë knit her brows, he shrugged softly. "I do not pretend to know what should be done, nor do I have an idea for myself. I am conflicted, and I can see you are as well." Haldir licked his lips, tilting his head up to the pair across the room. "When was the last time we spoke with the King of Gondor?"

"I would not say that too loudly," she replied quietly, "Elrond would not be pleased."

"Perhaps not, but should the Lord's personal tragedies influence the way we deal with Gondor? He forgets we are not as strong as we seem. Men could overtake us, if they tried."

Anólindë crossed her arms and watched as Galadriel stood up. The Lady of Light grew weaker as the months went on, her strength waning as the world of Elves began to crumble. "You would have us surrender to them?" she asked, regarding Haldir sadly. "They would have us as slaves."

"As we would have them as slaves?" Haldir shook his head softly, his blue eyes watching the Lady intently. "I would have us talk with them. We were allies once. Why could we not be again?"

Anólindë's voice softened as she looked down, shifting her foot. "What of all the murders? They have killed many of us."

"Again, as we have them. Anólindë, I am not saying anything would change, nor am I saying we are in the wrong in this war. I am merely hoping for a possible resolution without the bloodshed." He touched her shoulder and she looked up. "We should at least try."

Blinking softly, she nodded in understanding. "You want me to talk with him."

"It is your decision, but yes, of anyone, he would listen only to you. If you believe anything I have said, you owe it to our kind to question Elrond. Perhaps he does realize that there are other options." Haldir squeezed her shoulder and dropped his hand, looking back to Galadriel. She had walked away from Elrond, and stood by an open window. "The Lady weakens. She may not last long."

Anólindë clenched her jaw tightly. Her entire life had been spent under the comforting gaze of the Lady of the Wood. Celeborn had already been lost, she didn't want to have to survive the loss of Galadriel as well.

Elrond lowered his head and approached the pair, taking a deep breath as he drew close. "I fear Galadriel's reign may not last much longer. Her foresight is diminishing. Her understanding of the world is weak. She sorrows now, for those who approach. She will not tell me why."

Haldir glanced to his Queen, taking in her melancholy state. She turned her blue eyes to him, then looked away sadly. "Elves are not our enemy," he said quietly, "She is tired of the bloodshed."

Anólindë lowered her gaze when Elrond glared at Haldir. "We are all tired of the bloodshed, Marchwarden," he said tensely, "But some of us are still strong."

Haldir eyed him dangerously, but said nothing. "Elrond," said Anólindë, placing a hand on his arm, "When will the elves arrive?"

He reluctanly tore his gaze from Haldir. "This evening. They will be escorted into Lorien by guards." Narrowing his eyes, he placed a hand on Anólindë's shoulder and leaned close. "Until we are sure that they do not mean us harm, I want you to remain at a distance from them."

Elrond often did this, insisting Anólindë remain out of battles and skirmishes. She was grateful for his protection, but slightly offended. Still, she found out early on that it was best to just agree with him and do as she wanted anyways, instead of arguing. "I understand," she said non-committally. It seemed enough for him.

"I must go speak with the others regarding housing for these elves. If they are dangerous, they will need to be put in the cells where the men are." Giving Anólindë a quick smile, he said, "I will see you later," and left her alone with Haldir.

She had great difficulty bringing her eyes to the Marchwarden's, but when she did she was not surprised to see him looking at her in interest. "You see it," he said, "You see how he's changed."

Anólindë ignored his words, distracted by something else. "I have never been to see the men," she said softly, "If the elves are to put in the cells, what will happen to them?"

Haldir did not mince words. "They will be executed. As many have before them." When Anólindë nodded softly, he took a deep breath and continued. "It would happen eventually, anyways. They are kept and tortured for information. When they have lost their use, they are put to death. We do not have room for hundreds of humans." Frowning slightly, he added, "I find it odd, though, that when we invaded Rohan we were told to take no prisoners. When did elves become so cold-blooded?"

"I imagine the same time the humans did," replied Anólindë. "I want to see the elves when they arrive. Does anyone know where they are from?"

"No," he said, "You realize Elrond would not approve of you getting too close to them."

She nodded softly. "I know, but he is too protective."

Haldir glanced back at Galadriel, who was now watching them with content eyes. She smiled when Anólindë looked up. "I must talk with her," he said, moving his eyes to the dark-haired elf. "Speak with Elrond. I will come to you later."

She nodded as he turned to go to Galadriel. Anólindë watched for a few moments, wondering if what Elrond had said about her was true. It was long past the Queen's time to go to Valinor. With a worried feeling in her stomach, Anólindë sighed and opened the door that led out to the stairway to the ground.

Approaching the leaf-strewn grass, she saw Elrond leaving a cluster of elves, all dressed in dark cloaks. An escort, she assumed, for the new arrivals.

Anólindë ran to Elrond, catching up to him as he made his way to the houses. "Elrond," she said, wrapping her arm through his as he smiled, "Do you have time for me?"

His eyes turned inquisitive, but his smile did not falter. "Always," he replied, "What is it?"

They stopped along the path. Anólindë looked around, but they were alone. "I'm concerned," she said, "I know we are planning entry into Gondor, but I wonder if it is the right thing to do. Should we not try more peaceful alternatives first?"

Anólindë stilled herself when Elrond's face turned dark. "Peaceful?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes, "Whose words are these, Anólindë? Surely not yours?"

"What is the harm of trying to solve our problems without fighting?" She knew Elrond was easily angered by disagreement, especially in circumstances such as these. She had to remember that this war was the reason his children no longer graced the Earth. "Will you not consider it?"

His eyes searched hers for mere moments before he answered. "I will not," was his reply, "Gondor does not deserve mercy." Without another word, he turned to leave.

"Do we not deserve mercy?" Anólindë asked, calling after him. He stopped in his tracks, and she saw his fists ball at his sides.

"We are not the ones who started this," he hissed, "We are the ones who will finish it." Anólindë lowered her eyes as Elrond stalked away. She had angered him.

Turning back, she started towards the hall where the elves met to discuss battles. Often time was spent there, since there was not much else to do. Elrond has slowly forced her from accompanying the soldiers out to war, even though other female elves were encouraged to go. She had spent many years with Elrond, and she cared deeply for him, but Haldir was right. He was changing.

Anólindë stepped into the large stone building and was greeted by a warm, crackling fire. Autumn was swiftly approaching the forest, cooling the air and adding a crispness she could have done without. The fire was welcome, so she sat beside it and looked around. Parchment littered the walls and tables, scripted battle plans and elvish words of bravery. Having lived in Lorien all her life, Anólindë had known the elves of Imladris early on. Galadriel kept the two realms in contact almost continually. Nenya and Vilya helped, but the Queen and Celeborn had grandchildren there. Arwen. Elladan. Elrohir. Elrond's children. Now they were gone, as Celebrian was. Both Galadriel and Elrond has lost much. The Lady, though, was not the one who chose to destroy Rohan. Elrond had ordered that.

That was the first time in their years together that Anólindë questioned Elrond's way.

He had long been a source of comfort to her, strength and hope when she needed it. His words encouraged her to continue fighting for their freedom, and he took care of her. Elrond meant everything to her. Still, though, she wondered. There was no help for that. Closing her eyes, bathing in the warm glow of the fire, she wished for certainty.

*

TBC