Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Twenty-Four - Entry

Word Count: 1,781 words. 

Warnings: None. 

Author's Note: Little bit of a filler chapter, and also partly something to give as I have realised it's been a while since I updated this story. My apologies, I have been very busy with school and life. I hope that I will be able to update more regularly again, with at least one chapter a week, but for now, enjoy. 

Arathiel wasn't entirely sure how she had made it out of the mines, only that she had to squint from the light of day when she emerged from the darkness. Snow covered the ground, telling her that they stood atop a mountain of some kind, and she attempted to focus on the details around her to distract the pain in her heart.

She had lost friends to battle, more friends than she could possibly begin to count, but it was different this time. In fact, it felt as though a piece of her had been ripped from her chest. Mithrandir had been there for so long, Arathiel almost forgot how it was they first met. In a field, she thought it was, or perhaps they had met in the middle of battle or in Rivendell. Yes, that was where it had been. Rivendell.

Loss she could deal with, death was not uncommon to her, but this wasn't loss nor death, it was fear. She feared now that he was gone, for if he had been anything to her, he was a protector and now she was alone in her knowledge, in her life. Gandalf the Grey had known her long before any of the others in their company had and if he could be killed, then there was no one strong enough to survive.

"Arathiel," Aragorn tried, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She turned then, facing her friend. "Is he dead?" she posed and Aragorn only nodded.

"Yes."

Arathiel looked at the others that stood and lay on the snow. They mourned. The Hobbits cried for their fireworks and Gimli stood silently for an old friend. Boromir was more affected by the others than he was in his own grief, but she could see the sympathy he had. Even Legolas turned away to mourn in his own way. Gandalf had been a friend to all of them, in one way or another and now he was gone.

Frodo had walked a little way further, now at a small peak. "Frodo?" Arathiel called out, taking a step towards him.

It was when he turned that tears fell from the she-elf's eyes. When she say the pain that he held in his expression, the tiredness and the lack of willingness to go on without the greying wizard.

"We need to keep moving," she muttered, casting her gaze over the others that lay grieving. "I know somewhere that we can go, but we need to move now. The Balrog may be dead, but the darkness will never leave the Mines."

"Give them time to grieve," Boromir told her.

She turned to look at the Gondorian Prince. "There is no time Boromir," she urged. "Our time is all but spent. Now, we move."

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Arathiel knew where she was leading them. It was just about the only place that they would find any comfort, any guidance. Aside from being their friend, Gandalf had been leading them, showing them the way and now, without him, they were lost.

The elf knew where Mordor was, she knew the way to get there, but she herself needed comfort, needed advice and there was only one person that she ever trusted enough to give her that.

"You know Gandalf a long time," Frodo observed as they walked through the forest. He stood at her side, while the others followed behind.

"Yes, I did," she answered, keeping a keen eye out. There had to be an elf nearby.