The Music in My Heart

Title: The Music in My Heart*, Chapter 63
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: AFF; FF
Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Alex Cat for her help in betaing this fic.
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 63 --- To Look Fear in the Face

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.”
Eleanor Roosevelt

*****

Without a hesitation, Elrond drove his own mount forward in hard pursuit. He realized immediately that he was the only one on horseback that had seen her abduction and was close enough to give chase. Gritting his teeth, he urged Kaane to greater speed, unwilling to allow them to have his love.

Cresting the ridge, he caught sight of Seere and her abductor less than fifty yards in front of him. A small party of men and yrch were waiting at the base of the hill. Seere was not docilely accepting her fate and was fighting against her captor’s hold. Focusing on the struggling pair, Elrond concentrated on overtaking the rider before he could reach the bottom of the hill. Her struggles helped his efforts by slowing the rider and diverting his attention from the elf’s approach.

Seere, having had her sword knocked from her grasp when she was grabbed, managed to pull a knife from her boot. Twisting hard to her left, she buried it to the hilt in her abductor’s thigh. Reacting to the injury, he jerked away allowing the struggling elleth to break free and drop to the ground.

Landing hard, the force jammed her already injured knee. She hit the ground and lay stunned. The enraged Easterling rounded back toward her, his sword drawn, and charged the prone elleth oblivious to the rapidly approaching elf. Raising his weapon to stab her, he never saw the sword aimed at his throat… until it was far too late.

Looking up, Seere saw the fatal blow that removed the head from its body. The Easterling’s sword arm remained extended as the lifeless body pitched in her direction. Elven reflexes came to her rescue, as Seere pushed up hard so she could roll her body quickly to the right, narrowly avoiding being impaled. Gasping in pain, she lay breathless on the ground.

*****

Seere heard Elrond’s shout of warning and looked up to see the enemy that had been waiting at the bottom of the hill charging in their direction… fast. Ignoring the stabbing pain in her knee, she clamored to her feet and lunged for the sword the dead Easterling had dropped. Planting her feet beneath her with effort, she shifted her weight as much as she could to her good leg and drove her sword forward into an approaching Orc. Pulling back, she swung the blade hard to the right and cleaved the sword arm from a second. Forcing herself back to an upright position, she thrust her sword into the Orc’s chest to complete the kill.

Elrond plunged forward into the leading edge of the group and let his horse bury its hooves in the face of an Uruk Hai while he drove his sword into neck of an advancing Easterling. Wheeling hard to the left, he charged the last of the frontrunners and drove him down under his horse’s hooves.

Slowing briefly in his hard charge, he leaned low to his right and wrapped his arm around Seere. Feeling her arm reach up to circle his waist, they combined their strength to swing her up behind him. As her grip on his waist tightened, he pushed the bay stallion to a full gallop up the hill toward their camp.

*****

The stallion had barely begun to accelerate when Elrond pulled him back hard. In his mad rush to get to Seere, he had not noticed that a large number of the Yrch and Uruk Hai had followed him from the battle. They were rapidly moving toward them, blocking their path back to the camp and its support.

A quick glance over his shoulder showed only seven remained of the enemy approaching from the bottom of the hill. Estimating the number coming toward them from the top of the hill at better than thirty, he again wheeled the bay and charged the smaller band.

Caught off guard by the sudden change of direction, three of the Yrch lay dead in quick order. A fourth lay bleeding under Kaane’s hooves. The remaining three were knocked aside by the falling bodies of their dead comrades.

Needing no prodding once free of the bodies, the mighty bay leapt to a full gallop. At the bottom of the hill, the path veered hard right and became little more than a rut that followed a short tunnel through the mountain. Forty feet further up the sloping path, it emerged from between the enclosing walls of stone onto a trail clinging to the side of the mountain. Reining Kaane hard back and to the left, they swerved to narrowly avoiding plunging over the side of the cliff into the valley below.

To their right was a steep drop down to the Dagorlad Plain. The sheer rock wall of the Emyn Muil hemmed them in to the left, a narrow path along its side heading in a north, northeasterly direction higher into the mountains. The sound of the approaching troops entering the mouth of the tunnel behind them negated the possibility of turning back.

Wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and the pursuing enemy, Elrond pushed the bay forward along the path for long minutes, looking frantically for a way to circle back to their forces. After twenty minutes of hard riding, Elrond slowed the stallion to a canter.

The couple, in unison, looked back over their shoulders to see if they were being followed. Seeing no immediate indication of close pursuit, he allowed the winded bay to drop to a walk. Cresting a hill, Elrond reined the horse to a complete stop after turning him to look back in the direction they had fled.

*****

The Dagorlad Plain that surrounded the eastern side of the plateau near the Mouths of Onodló where they had made camp the night before, lay far below them, confirming Elrond’s belief they had been climbing higher into the mountains in their flight... climbing away from their own forces. They had thus far seen no other paths save the one they were following. (Entwash)

The enemy was between them and reinforcements, so turning back was not an option. Their current path followed the side of the mountains, disappearing from sight around a bend several hundred yards further along. A new path to the left, some fifty yards in front of them, seemed to lead higher into the mountains in an east, northerly direction. Where either of the two paths ended could not be determined from their vantage point.

Elrond made a quick, mental inventory of their resources --- one skin of water luckily intact, two days supply of bread /more if we are careful/, a small ration of dried meat and fruit, six fresh apples harvested from a tree that morning, two swords, his long knives still in their sheaves /whether Seere has more weapons beyond the knife she had already used, I can not tell; best to wait to ask until I can see to her leg/, a basic medical kit, his bedroll including one blanket, two heavy cloaks /I am thankful it was a chilly morning so we were both still wearing them/, a length of elven rope, odds and ends of camping supplies in his saddlebags, and a fast, strong horse.

Several facts weighed against them --- the fact he had an injured elleth /Her leg is dangling in an unnatural manner and she has been slumped against me for some time now; I hope she can handle the pain a little longer as we cannot stop any time soon… her silence worries me./, no maps, no clear idea of how to return to their forces, two paths with no clear destination, no obvious way to get down to the plain /not that getting there would be an easy answer as we would be exposed on all sides and from above, for there is no cover to be seen/, a winded horse carrying two riders, and time running out to make a decision.

/It has been many millennia since I scouted this region for Ereinion, gathering intelligence and adding details to our maps. I hope my memory is up to this challenge./

Moving Kaane behind an outcropping of rocks, Elrond trained his eyes toward the sound of approaching troops, hoping against hope they were their own. Seeing a line of hard running Uruk Hai round the bend in the path approximately a mile and a half behind and below them, Elrond sighed. “Do you have a preference of which path to take, maethoren vain?” (my beautiful warrior)

Seere looked up with pain-clouded eyes. “Is there any sign that one path may have been used recently?”

“Good question,” he replied.

Moving to the path leading to the east into the mountains, he studied the ground for signs of recent use. Disturbed rocks and scattered scuff-marks showed clearly across the rocky ground. Moving to study their original path, he found no signs that indicated its recent use.

“The upper path is disturbed and may well lead to their base camp. I seem to recall following the other path during one of my scouting trips to this area in the years Sauron was building Barad-Dûr. If I am correct, it will intersect with the path into Amon Lhaw. If I am wrong, it may be a dead-end or circle back toward an enemy position, but it appears to be our best option for now,” he whispered.

Feeling her nod in answer, he looked back and saw that she had paled further in the last few minutes. Frowning in concern, he placed his lips against her ear and softly spoke. “My love, we must do this without making any sound, but I need to move you to ride in front of me. I fear your pain may overcome you and we cannot risk you falling from the horse if you lose awareness. Do you understand, beloved?” Again feeling a nod in answer, he reached down to pull a strip of clean cloth from his right saddlebag, taking care not to lose anything from within.

“Melme, open you mouth and let me give you something to bite upon while I move you. I will dismount and ease you forward so I can remount behind you. Do you understand?” Glassy eyes met his and again she nodded. Sliding the cloth into her mouth to stifle any cries she might make, he eased down and, as gently as he could, slid her forward. Her low moan cut into his heart. Once she was positioned, he remounted behind her and settled her against his chest. (love)

“I am sorry, ind nîn. I will treat your leg as soon as we can safely stop, but, for now, we must make haste. Lay back against me and I will hold you.” That said, the worried elf nudged his horse forward along the path beside the mountain --- the enemy closing in behind them and an uncertain destination before them. (my heart)

*****

Lindon, Second Age 1604

The High King sat listlessly in the chair beside the bed in the Healing Hall. His gaze was fixed on the wounded occupant of the bed, Elrond. His Herald had been away from Lindon for many years, carrying messages from the King to their elven allies and working to maintain the lines of communication between the free peoples on the King’s behalf.

He had also spent a great deal of time in the wilds of Middle-earth gathering intelligence to aid their cause. Infrequent messages, encoded reports, and numerous detailed maps --- entrusted to small detachments led by either Glorfindel or Lindir and bearing the mark of Elrond’s own hand --- were the only communication he had received in several years before the wounded remnants of Elrond’s patrol had appeared at the City’s main gate the night before.

Elrond’s travels had taken him close to the lands of Mordor as he sought information on the growing number of human settlements in that area. His last report had indicated he was attempting to get close enough, actually into Mordor itself if possible, to investigate the fortress Sauron had built in those forbidding lands. His patrol had decided to try to document the extent of the other defenses the Dark Lord had devised to protect his stronghold. As the full patrol had traveled back through the gap between the Misty and White Mountains* eager to share their latest news directly with the High King, a pack of Yrck had been laying in wait near the Fords of Isen.

A fierce skirmish had taken place between the small party of elves and the much larger band of Orc. In the end, the patrol had prevailed, but at great cost. Seven of the sixteen had died in the fighting; two more had died despite the best care they could give them. The remaining seven had limped back toward Lindon, patched back together by Elrond’s skills as a healer.

Sadly, his skills were of little use in healing his own wounds, as an infection to a deep gash on his shoulder had turned septic after it was reopened while fleeing a second larger band of Orcs two days from the safety of the walled city. Elrond had packed it with healing herbs, but was unable to use his power to draw out the poison that had settled in the wound.

They had arrived, disheveled and exhausted, during a pouring rain late last night. Elrond had been tied to his horse to keep him upright and mounted in his growing delirium. The greenish puss oozing from the wound had crusted over and blood covered the front of his uniform tunic.

Their report had been given him by Elrond’s second, Erestor. Elrond had been unconscious since his arrival. Gil-Galad and his commanders had been amazed by the detailed intelligence the patrol had managed to obtain and his advisors were, even now, combing through the report to fully analyze their new information.

/The information they obtained is invaluable to our cause, but is it worth losing my dear Elrond? He would be amazed that I could still ask such a question. I am sure he would say something wise about the greater good or the unavoidable fact that many will ultimately be sacrificed if we are to prevail, but it is only the good of one… the sacrifice of this one that worries me now. Logic and reason mean little when it is someone so dear that may pay this price./

The court healers had labored to clean the wound and lower his temperature for most of the night. The peredhel’s heritage had hindered their efforts, as his human blood weakened and slowed his elven healing abilities. His near complete exhaustion and the amount of blood he had lost had only exacerbated the problem.

The healers had done all they could. It was now out of their hands. They left him under Ereinion’s watchful eye, cautioning the King it would be several hours at best before they would know if they had succeeded in saving his life.

A faint groan from the bed caused the King to raise hopeful eyes to the unconscious elf. The first rays of Anor had begun to spread across the room and Elrond shifted in his sleep to avoid the sudden bright light shining in his sleep glazed eyes. Rising quickly to close the curtains, Ereinion was again struck by the exotic beauty of his friend’s face and form.

He stood for several minutes lost in his silent appraisal… his secret, a secret to himself at least, admiration. It came as a shock to his senses to suddenly realize that the mists of elven sleep had slipped away from Elrond’s eyes in the time he had stood rapt in his hungry study of his Herald and friend. Lost in the depths of those silver eyes, Ereinion finally understood.

/So many sleepless nights… I refused to understand what has plagued my heart… what robbed my nights of the pleasure I have always found in the arms of a lover… why my heart is heavy when my peredhel is not safely tucked behind the walls of this palace, near my side… why Elrond’s innocent flirtations with Celebrian or moments of passion observed unintentionally between Elrond and one of his former mistresses tore at my spirit… and why the images Elrond has foreseen of his auburn-haired soul-mate robs me of breath./

He loved him. He had been in love with Elrond for quite a long time and had never let himself acknowledge this truth. The High King loved his Herald, his cousin, and his dearest friend… a half-elf that could give him no heir and that was well known to have no interest in the touch of another ellon. His heart soared… then plummeted as he accepted his fate. He loved Elrond… and his love was doomed to go unrequited for another was destined to claim the peredhel’s heart.

“Ereinion? Are you well?”

Snapped back to the moment by the pained croak from the bedridden elf, he quickly moved to offer him a drink of cool water. /I may not be fated to win his heart, but he is mine to care for now. Mine to love… even if only in the quiet of my own heart./

*****

A/N --- *This is the Gap of Rohan, but there was no Rohan in the Second Age, so I opted for a geographic description instead of a name.