The Music in My Heart

Title: The Music in My Heart, Chapter 59 (betaed)
Author: Sorsha
Fandom/Pairing: Elrond/OFC, Glorfindel/Haldir, Elladan/OFC, Elrohir/Legolas, others implied
Rating:.NC-17 for future chapters
Warning: AU (Story set 770 years after ROTK; Slash and het.
Feedback: This is my first fanfic, so constructive feedback appreciated.
Archive: AAF; FF
Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Alex Cat for her help in betaing this.
Disclaimer: Any of the residents of Middle-earth and Aman that you recognize belong to Prof. Tolkien’s estate. The same is true about Middle-earth and Aman. I’m only visiting and admiring the “views”. Summary: Sauron may be gone, but his legacy of evil still lingers. As Middle-earth faces the threat of another dark lord, a party of elves departs Aman on a mission for the Valar, a mission of mercy long delayed.


Chapter 59 --- All Possible Objections

"Nothing will ever be attempted if all possible objections must first be overcome."
Samuel Johnson

*****

Dawn had not yet broken when a dwarf shook Elrond awake. “We can see the light of the torch within the cave, my lord. Lord Grór and his detail are returning.”

Instantly awake, Elrond thanked the dwarf and roused the others resting nearby. Within minutes, they were all grouped near the entrance to the second cave, waiting anxiously to see if the three dwarves could safely exit the cave. A flickering light was visible from deep within the cave, a light that was rapidly growing brighter.

Grór’s second gave a cry of joy as he, through the dim light of the cave, spied his commander dragging an ornate chest through the narrow tunnel. Barely containing himself from going to assist him, he grabbed the hand that was thrust through the opening and pulled the dwarf back into the open air. Looking back into the dark, he pulled the chest out into the early morning light before asking, “My lord, where are the others?”

“Orcs… they will be along shortly with any luck,” Grór replied, sagging to the ground in exhaustion. “We had just started back when we were overtaken by a band of Orcs. This cursed mountain is riddled with caves and tunnels. We had but begun to pull the chest through the first of a series of tunnels when we heard their approach. We did not get far before we were overtaken and our kin drew their swords to engage them. I was wedged on the other side of this accursed chest and was unable to stand with them. They urged me to get the chest back to the expedition, while they defended the tunnels.”

Looking up at the frowning elf lord, Grór took a hardy drink from the waterskin pressed into his hands before he added, “Let us hope there is something within that merits their sacrifice.”

“Indeed… their bravery is exemplary! We must immediately send them reinforcements,” Elrond proposed, signaling for several elven warriors to prepare to follow him into the cave.

“I will need to lead them, for it is not a direct path. While I appreciate your warriors desire to help, my dwarves would be best suited to this task, as the way is often along narrow, low tunnels. Your elves are too tall and the men are too broad.” Pushing the chest in the direction of the elf lord, he hefted his ax before disappearing back into the cave with a dozen of his warriors.

Those left behind traded worried looks. Elrohir spoke first, voicing the concerns held by the others. “Why would Orcs have been within these caves, much less have been able to find Grór and his dwarves? They could not have known we found another entrance, for this location is sheltered from view on all sides save the one we control.”

“Indeed, melme. May I suggest we increase the number of perimeter patrols, and alert all of our forces that Orcs are in the immediate area? Until we have some answers to these questions, I would feel better if we were all alert to this threat,” Legolas prompted. Seeing no objections to his proposal, the prince hurried off to organize their forces. (love)

Prince Háma bent down to study the ornate surface of the chest. “I do not recognize these runes. Are they… Black Speech?”

Feeling the unease of his companion, the young human looked up to see the pained expressions on the faces of the elder elves. “Aye, they are,” Celeborn replied, his voice strained and tense.

“I hate to ask this, but, can any of you read it?” Aranuir asked.

“I recognize some of these symbols, but it would take me some time to translate the entire text and I would need access to the resources in our library. From what I can read, I believe it to be a warning… nay, a curse set by Morgoth’s own hand,” Erestor whispered. “These runes are ancient… one in particular dates to the before the awakening of the Eldar. I have never heard of Sauron using it… only his master.”

Celeborn and Elrond grimly nodded in agreement. Barely repressing a shudder of revulsion, Elrond added, “Erestor is correct… whatever is or was in this chest is linked to the fallen Vala. It may well indicate that Sauron brought this chest here after the fall of Angband at the beginning of the Second Age. We know he fled the fallen fortress seeking to avoid judgment by the Valar, but no one has ever been able to say with certainty where he went in the years before he reemerged as Annatar.”

Unable to continue looking at the foul markings, Glorfindel whipped off his cloak and covered the chest. “It would seem we have further reason to believe Lhach is seeking knowledge of both dark lords, as we now have a link to Morgoth as well as Sauron. What are we to do with this… abomination?”

“We must see it to a secure location as quickly as possible. Edoras is the nearest fortified city to our current position… some three days ride. Háma, will your father allow us to bring something marked by such evil into his capital?” Elrond asked, hoping to prevent another argument such as they had when the decision to take the documents to Minas Tirith had occurred.

The young prince was silent for several minutes. “He would allow it, but the information inside… how do we open it to see what it contains?”

“I am not sure we can at this time. Seere saw Lhach place an enchantment on the chest after locking it with a key. We have neither the key nor knowledge about the magic guarding it. If its origin is indeed tied to Morgoth, tis possible only the Valar can open it,” Erestor observed.

“A valid concern, mellon nin. It would be foolish and dangerous for us to try to open it without more information. Perhaps, there is something in the records from Orthanc that contains information that will help us in this endeavor,” Elrond mused. “In any case, we need to get it to a safe location. We have not the numbers to defend it if pressed too hard by a large force.” (my friend)

“I have been thinking,” Celeborn interjected. “It is possible that the enchantment around the cave was set by Sauron to, in some manner, alert Orcs to the chest’s removal. This would explain the sudden arrival of the yrck in the tunnel as our friends began to drag it away from the cave where it had long rested. It would also explain why Lhach left it behind.”

“If that is true… we may soon have some very unwelcome company. I propose we make ready to ride, so that we can leave as soon as Grór and his dwarves return,” Aranuir urged. “We do not want to be caught unprepared.”

“Indeed not. I agree we must be ready to march immediately,” Elrond agreed. “Are we to Edoras then?”

Elrohir spoke up. “May I suggest an alternative, Ada? We are on the banks of the Anduin. Why not build rafts and float it to Osgiliath? I believe the river flows freely for the entire distance, aided by the waters of the Entwash. A much smaller force could safely see it to the White City in far less time than we could take it overland to Edoras, and they would stand a better chance of avoiding Orc patrols on the river. From there, Ara could arrange an escort to Minas Tirith.”

“We are sending yet another prize to Gondor? Why did you bother to include any of the rest of the peoples of Middle-earth, if Gondor and Imladris are to make all the decisions and reap all of the trophies?” Háma exclaimed.

“Trophies! Prizes! Think of what you are saying, my friend,” Aranuir cried. “This is an evil and cursed thing! I shudder to think of it in either of our cities, but, if Adar’ra Celeborn is right, we may soon be overrun by Orcs sent to protect it. It is our mission to thwart whatever evil is being crafted by this Lhach. Do you honestly think taking it overland is a wiser decision that rafting it to Osgiliath?”

“But Gondor will have access to this knowledge exclusively. That worries me,” Háma protested. “What assurances will you offer that the other peoples will have access to it?”

“I can only say Rohan and any other of our allies are welcome to send scholars to study our finds and aid those that now labor to make sense of this information. That offer has been open since we convened in Minas Tirith before marching. As for long term access, if we do not destroy what we have collected… or send them to Aman for the Valar to handle as they see fit, I pledge to you that Gondor will work with each realm to establish protocols for who they wish to have access to them. We want no repeat of what happened after the Ring War, so we must all agree to proper security measures.”

Háma held the gaze of the Prince of Gondor for several seconds before nodding. “Very well. I am not entirely satisfied, but you are right to urge we debate this later. We will need to detail men to the task of building rafts immediately,”

“Agreed.”

*****

It took the detail most of the morning to complete three crude, but sturdy rafts. Having heard nothing from the dwarves, the chest was loaded onto the center raft and a company of archers under the command of Aranuir and Haldir cast off. The ‘committee’ had previously agreed to next march for the Dead Marshes. It was agreed that the expedition would march along the Anduin to an old ferry crossing fifty miles south of the falls. A Gondorian garrison guarded the crossing and would provide shelter for the force should they come under attack while they awaited the return of the patrol.

A tense quiet settled over the camp as the rafts rounded a bend in the river and were swept from sight toward the convergence of the Anduin and the Entwash. The remaining dwarves clustered around the mouth of the second cave, muttering and sending hostile glances at the other groups. Elrond had tried to talk to them and give them support, but his efforts had been greeted with hostility.

Another hour passed before the wavering light of a torch again lit the tunnel entrance. Within minutes, the dwarven patrol tumbled out of the cave, many aiding wounded comrades. Grór, who had taken a slicing blow to his left shoulder, allowed himself to be propped up against the cliff wall as he grumbled, “Those caves are swarming with those foul creatures. Every time we thought we had beaten them back, a fresh wave of Orcs appeared. At least we were able to save one of my dwarves from their clutches… the other was already dead when we arrived.”

“Other casualties?” Elrond questioned, as he began to treat the wound.

“Unless we lose one now, he is the only one. We brought his body with us… I’ll not leave my own to become food for those monsters!” he exclaimed, his disgust in their vile behavior evident.

“Grór! You are safe!”

Looking up, the two smiled slightly as Seere dropped to the ground next to the wounded dwarf. “Aye, my lady. I am too stubborn to die easily.”

Seeing that Elrond was preparing to suture the wound, the elleth quickly found a bottle of a numbing wash in the elf lord’s medical kit to douse the wound. “I have been worried, my friend. I know you are a fierce warrior, but your friends are still entitled to care about your safety.”

Blushing slightly, the dwarf lord traded an amused look with her betrothed. “I do hope you realize what a lucky elf you are to have won her heart? My grandfather often teases me that I take after him… finding fair elleth so beguiling.”

Glancing at the elleth in question, Elrond nodded his head. “I am as lucky an elf as has ever drawn breath to have her love. And, yes, I know I do not deserve her.”

“Now, you are both being silly! Grór, hold still while Elrond closes your wound. We must make ready to travel as soon as possible,” she admonished, a blush of her own gracing her face.

*****

It was late in the night when they crested a hill above the sanctuary of the garrison. A large party of Orcs had been following them since sundown and the Expedition was glad to see the looming walls of the garrison ahead. Aranuir had alerted the commander to expect them when he had passed through on the way down river and the commander had been on watch for the approach of the force, hoping to prevent their being overwhelmed by Orcs seeking the chest. The arrival of an armed escort several miles from the fortress had been welcome.

“Welcome, my lords. My uncle passed through here late yesterday and warned us to be on the lookout for your party. It seems some unwelcome guests are following you, so let us make haste to the garrison,” he proposed.

“Artamir! I did not know you commanded this garrison! Tis good to see you,” Elrohir exclaimed. “Ada… another of your descendents. Art is the son of Ara’s sister, Hareth. He schooled with us some… forty years back.”

“Indeed! Welcome home, Adar’ra! And, it is good to see you again, Adar’ra… uncle,” he greeted, as he nodded to Celeborn and Elrohir. A pleased smile lit his face as he caught sight of Seere and Erestor. “Lady Seere! Lord Erestor, tis a pleasure to see you, as well!”

“Mae govannen, Artamir. You and your company are a most welcome addition to our company!” Elrond greeted. “Prince Aranuir and his patrol passed safely through this crossing, I take it?” (Well met, Artamir.)

“Indeed they did, Adar’ra. I have been waiting most anxiously to meet you when he told me you were in the party that traveled here,” the young man confessed, a bright smile lighting his face. Spotting the dwarf riding beside Seere, he grinned. “Lord Grór! It has been many years since we last met. I hope you are not grievously wounded.”

“Just a scratch… nothing more. So, you are now commander of this garrison. Tis good to see you have outgrown the influence of your uncles…”

Elrond listened to the banter with half an ear. Leaning over to whisper in his betrothed’s ear, he asked, “Seere? Is something troubling you? You look… pale.”

Forcing a smile to her lips, she accepted his hand as he reached out to take hers in a gentle grip. “I am fine, melme. I had not seen Artamir since he left Imladris to return to Gondor in the company of a trade delegation. That was forty years ago.” (love)

A soft “Agh…” assured her that Elrond had recognized the significant of that time. Squeezing her hand, he softly replied, “Ermehtar can no longer able to hurt you, beloved.”

“I know… it was but a sudden unpleasant memory. I am fine.” Seeing his sidelong glance, a genuine smile brightened her face. “Really, meleth nin, I am fine. I am quite fond of your grandson and am glad to see him. He is very like Elladan, always up to mischief… so you will get on well with him.” (my love)

Chuckling, he teased, “Are you suggesting…”

A sudden shout from one of the perimeter patrols put an end to their playful moment. The enemy, seeing the shelter of the garrison looming before them, had decided to attack.

*****

“Seere… Erestor, see our wounded to the safety of the garrison. We will cover your backs. Go!” Elrond commanded. Seeing the dwarf lord begin to argue, he added, “Grór, please ride with Seere and help her get your dwarves to safety.”

Sighing in defeat, the dwarf began herding them down the hill. “Come… get to the garrison so that we can protect the lady.”

Choking back a grin at the outraged look Seere was sending his way, he gave her a quick wink before turning Kaane to face the advancing Hordes. Nudging the stallion to a canter, he began to issue orders to the elven troops under his command, as well as, the men left to his charge by his grandson. Within minutes, the sounds of battle filled the night.

*****

Seeing a Gondorian warrior near her fall with an arrow in his shoulder, Seere rounded her mount back up the hill to see if he was still alive. Finding him staggering to his feet, she pulled up long enough to offer him her hand before swinging him up behind her. “Hold on! We will be within the keep soon enough and I will tend your wound.”

Riding behind the wounded, Seere glanced over her shoulder to see their troops engage the enemy. /That number seems too small to be the force that has stalked our path this night! Where are the…/

A low growl to her right sent shivers down her spine as she quickly lifted her gaze to scan the shrubby growth along and above the path to the garrison. “Warg! Warg riders!”

Hearing his daughter’s warning, Erestor swung around in time to see several mounted riders springing down the embankment toward the back of the group of wounded. To his horror, he quickly saw Seere was in danger of being separated from the rest of their numbers. The flash of her sword was caught by a shaft of light from the moon as her blade slashed at the nearest rider, confirming she was virtually surrounded by the enemy.

Cursing himself for having lost her location in the charge down the hill, he pulled his bow from his back and notched his first arrow. The few archers in his company had likewise turned to face the advancing warg and their arrows followed his into their pack.

Seere felt the blade of her sword connect with the neck of the warg closest to her. Its rider tumbled to the side, as the man she had rescued drove his knife into the Orc’s throat. Trusting her mount to follow her command to make for the garrison, Seere and the young warrior concentrated on killing as many of the foul creatures around them as possible. The arrows from the archers cut the numbers rapidly, easing this task.

Finding an opening in the line of wargs, Anoron broke into a gallop, intent upon carrying her riders to safety. A sudden flash of intense pain stabbed through Seere’s leg, as a rider-less warg sank its teeth into the soft skin of her lower thigh, skin left unprotected by her armor. Latching onto her leg, the beast began to drag her from her mount, its fangs ripping the flesh from mid-thigh to knee as her armor was pushed aside.

Wrapping his good arm around her waist, the young warrior behind her added his strength to her struggles to free herself, concentrating on keeping her mounted before him. Cutting and slashing with her sword, Seere hacked at the warg until she managed to drive a blow into its right eye. Howling, the beast fell away allowing the elven mare to surge forward, free of the weight of the beast.

Charging full speed down the hill, Anoron thundered across the flat ground surrounding the entrance to the keep, the open gates of the garrison in her sight. The mare did not stop until she had her charges well past the gates behind the walls of the stronghold. Sighing in relief, Seere let the warriors that had surrounded them ease the wounded soldier from her mount. Within seconds, she was being carried to the healing ward of the garrison.

*****

Elrond forced his way through the throng of warriors milling around the courtyard searching for Seere. “Elrond! She is in the healing ward.”

Whipping his head around, he found Grór at his side. “The healing ward? Was she wounded?” he demanded, breaking into a run.

“Aye, a warg got her leg,” followed him through the entrance of the garrison. Hearing the all too familiar sound of a healing ward brimming with wounded, Elrond had no trouble finding his way. To his horror, he found his beloved laying on a treatment bed, her leggings soaked in blood and a healer cutting away the torn leg of the garment to assess the wound.

“Seere!”

Looking up to meet his worried gaze, Seere tried to give him a reassuring smile. “It is not a bad as it looks, melme. My armor deflected the worst of it. Once the blood is cleaned away and it is stitched, I will be fine.” (love)

“Fine? You were bitten by a warg! Now lay back and let me see to this!” he demanded, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he caught sight of the gaping wound. Accepting a cloth soaked in a cleansing wash from the other healer, Elrond frowned. “This is no small wound, Seere. It is a ten inch gash that is bleeding heavily. You will have difficulty walking for some time…”

“Calm down, Elrond. Yes, it is bleeding, but we both know it is not life threatening. No major arteries were cut, so it needs to be cleaned and sutured,” she replied, her calm tone irritating the frantic elf.

“Calm down! You were bitten…”

“Indeed she was. Can I suggest you worry about closing the wound first and arguing with her second?” Celeborn interjected. “How are you, pen vuil?” (dear one)

“How is she? She was bitten…” Elrond began again, only to be interrupted by Seere as she answered Celeborn.

“I have been bitten, but it is not life threatening, my friend. There are others that need your care that are far more…”

“I am not betrothed to any of them! I will see to your wound now, beloved, so lay back and stop arguing with me.” Muttering to himself, the healer focused on her wound, striving to keep his fears for her safety at bay. “Your knee joint is damaged…”

“Seere!”

Looking up, she found her father had arrived, the pallor of his face alarming. “Ada! Are you all right? Have you been wounded?”

“Am I all right? Am I all right? Do not ask silly questions! You are wounded, so no, I am not all right!” he exclaimed, wrapping her in a crushing embrace.

“Ada, I will be fine. Elrond is suturing the bite and…”

“Bite? One of those accursed warg bit you?”

“Yes, Ada… a warg bit me. Between a warg and an Orc, I think I prefer it was a warg for they are marginally cleaner,” she teased, hoping to calm him down.

“How can you joke at such a time? You have been bitten…”

“We all agree that she was bitten, mellon nin. Perhaps, you can brew a strengthening tea and a draught for pain while Elrond closes the wound,” Celeborn suggested, knowing his friend needed to be doing something to help his child. “She would also benefit from that poultice you devised that sooths inflamed skin. It will help her recovery.” (my friend)

“I will see to them immediately. I will return shortly, pen vuil.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he rose to go and seek the apothecary. Looking back at his friend, he added, “Elrond… is there anything else I can prepare?” (dear one)

“Nay, meldir. The treatments that Celeborn has proposed are the same as I would have selected. I should be finished suturing the wound by the time you return and she will need the pain draught, for the numbing wash will have worn off by then.” Watching his panicked friend hurry off, he glanced at his beloved. Noting the tense set of her features, he decided to accept Celeborn’s advice and save the lectures for later. “You prefer a warg bite to an Orc bite for a warg is cleaner? Did you not smell those things?” (friend)

Forcing a smile to her lips in response to his attempt to tease, she nodded her head. “How could I not? Orcs still smell worse!”

“Since the conversation has moved on to such weighty matters as Horde hygiene, I will go and see if I can be of help elsewhere. Seere, do you need anything before I go?” Celeborn asked, bending to kiss her cheek.

“Nay… wait. There was a young man riding with me. He had taken an arrow to his shoulder. I would not have been able to stay on my horse without his help. Would you please check on him and let me know how he fairs?” she asked.

A groggy voice from the next bed answered, “I will survive thanks to your aid, my lady. Thank you for your concern.”

Celeborn walked over to the adjacent treatment bed to check his wound. Seeing that it had already been sutured and bandaged, he asked, “What is you name, my friend? You helped save the life of one quite dear to many of us and we are in your debt.”

“You owe me no debt, my lord, for I would have been defenseless from my wound and the lack of a horse had not the lady rescued me,” he replied, the effects of the medications dulled his senses. “The warg would have made easy work of me had she not.”

“You still have my gratitude. What is your name, young one?”

“Derufin, my lord.”

Hearing this, Elrond glanced over at the patient on the next bed. “Derufin? I met your brother at the garrison in the south. He is a fine young man and is very proud of you… with good reason, it would seem. I promised I would look after you. Now I have two reasons to see you safely home to your family.”

Smiling slightly, Derufin murmured, “He is a good boy, our Targon.”

*****

It was late the next morning before Seere stirred. Looking to her left, she found her father sleeping in a chair next to her bed. “He would not survive losing you, melme… nor would I.” (love)

Turning her head to the right, her sleep-dazed golden eyes met his weary silver gaze. “I know this, my love. I will be fine.”

“This time. I am not willing to risk our good fortune again. I want you to remain here while we go to Dagorlad. Once we have finished there, we will take you to Osgiliath to await our trip home. I cannot bear the thought of your being hurt again,” he whispered.

Shaking her head, she met his gaze with as firm a stare as she could. “No, beloved. I go to the Dead Marshes with you. I must. After that… if you insist, I will consent to waiting at Osgiliath for you… or perhaps, Minas Tirith so that I can work with Master Bergil on reviewing the records and artifacts. But, I will go to the Dead Marshes, even if I must go alone.”

“No.”

“Elrond… you know I must make that trip as surely as you.” Reaching out to take his hand, she added, “I love you with all of my heart and spirit, Elrond, but I must do this.”

“Seere… please understand…”

“I do understand, my love. That is the reason I will consent to being left at Minas Tirith while the expedition continues. My presence is a distraction that could affect both yours and Ada’s safety, for you worry about me before yourself.” Tugging on his hand, she raised it to lie over her heart. “But, I will go to the Dead Marshes with or without the rest of you… with or without your blessings. I must.”

*****