Into the West (A Lord of the Rings Fan Fic)

Chapter Eighteen

As Legolas strode across Middle Earth, Amaruil languished alone in Rivendell. Both Amaruil and Arwen were too caught up in their separate fears and hopes to pay much attention to the other, and where they could have found comfort, they instead found neglect. Rivendell without Legolas seemed just as grey as life without him; the last leaves of autumn clung half heartedly to the bowed trees before surrendering to the relentless pull of the earth, while the weak sun was overpowered by the clouds which drowned it.

Amaruil spent her days wandering Imladris listlessly, barely speaking or eating and preferring to stare into space than to join the feasts which occurred in the evenings. Though life might continue for other Eldar, it did not for her, and she found herself unable to fill her days. To them the departure of the motley collection of people was a mere curiosity and, though they knew that it was history unfolding before their eyes, once the group had left their lives returned to normal. Many of them were already planning their departue for the Grey Havens - the beginning of a battle for a land they had already forsaken was of no interest to them.

Though Legolas fought physical battles, struggled against the evil powers of Sauron and found himself preyed on by orcs, Amaruil had long tired of fighting; struggling against the dark thoughts and boredom which preyed on her was too hard, for her enemy came from within. Days which, in the years when she had travelled frequently with Arwen, had seemed to flick by quickly, finishing in the second that it took for Time to string them onto the necklace of Amaruil’s life, now dragged on endlessly, each one an insurmountable obstacle between Amaruil and Legolas.

Winter crawled past sluggishly for Amaruil without anything to distract herself with, a bloated and ugly creature which obscured her view of spring and the awakening which it would bring, breathing life into everything from the plants and the animals to Amaruil herself. Still, eventually spring did come, and the world began to move again, the newly adorned trees waving in the gentle breeze as Amaruil buried herself in books, retreating to stories and history in an attempt to avoid the pain of her life.

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Amaruil shut her eyes as the sun streamed in through her window, a welcome change from the rain which had steadily been refreshing the world around them but had hovered above them and dampened even the joyful spirits of the Eldar. It was persistent though, grinning cheerfully at her through her eyelids and alighting gently on everything in her room, coating her possessions in a shimmering fabric which clung to each corner and edge, trailing glistening silken tendrils through the air. Rising quietly Amaruil trod across the room, her light footsteps making no sound on the floor as she dressed and headed out to break her fast.

“I have heard that the Riders of Rohan are besieged by orcs and that Lord Elrond plans to send an army to aid them in the upcoming battle,” came a whisper as Amaruil drifted through the still gardens. Pausing when this information filtered through her mind Amaruil turned and headed back towards Elrond’s hall. She pushed aside the ornate doors and stepped into the cool hall, her footsteps echoing around her, magnified by a hundred times as she walked through the corridor.

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“Please hîr Elrond,” she pleaded passionately, “if you are sending an army I beg to be allowed to join it.”

Elrond gazed out of the window, his brow unlined but marked with sorrow. “You know that I cannot Amaruil,” he said regretfully, his voice even.

“You can do anything, everyone follows you!” she cried frustrated.

“I cannot send you into danger when I love you as my own daughter Amaruil,” he said sadly. “I cannot and will not betray the trust of your parents and allow you to do something so foolhardy.”

“Surely it is not foolhardy if we win?” she exclaimed.

“We may not win,” Elrond replied emotionlessly, his eyes still trained on the world outside. “And if we do not then all this will have been in vain. The trees, this place, our legacy… everything that we know will be destroyed by Sauron, Amaruil,” he continued, finally turning his eyes to her and showing her the pain and worry which marked them. “He is safe Amaruil, take my word for it.”

“I just-”

“I know. You want to see him again. Do not think that I do not understand what it is like but it does not mean that I will allow you to go. You are like a daughter to me and I will let no daughter of mine take part in this battle. Aragorn is there - it is mainly because of him that I send aid - but Arwen does not know, for if she did I know that there would be no way to stop her attempts to see him,” Elrond said, his voice mixed with both pride and sadness.

“You underestimate us; we know what is best,” Amaruil replied quietly.

“It is best that you stay here where you are safe!” he cried. “I will lose Arwen when this is finished, no matter how it ends, and I will not allow her to leave me so soon!”

“I just want to do what little I can to help them,” she muttered, stopping Elrond in his tracks. “Please allow me to travel with the army and fight. I swear that I will not take any risks or attempt anything beyond my abilities. I will not be a burden,” she added, her eyes imploring. “I will return as soon as it is over.”

“And if you die?” Elrond asked blankly.

“Then you will know that I died fighting for what is right and what is beautiful and that I was happy to do so,” Amaruil replied quietly, looking out of the window at the forest which surrounded them, hemmed in by cliffs and rushing water on one side, the waterfall tumbling to the ground like a twisting ribbon, the endless crashing only a quiet whisper from where they stood; not for the first time Amaruil was struck by how beautiful it was and the thought of everything fallen, black, twisted and rotten as Sauron poisoned the land was too much to bear. It had stood for thousands of years, longer than Amaruil had been alive, and its destruction was looming nearer and nearer.

“They leave tomorrow at dawn,” Elrond said suddenly, interrupting her reverie. “Be careful though.”

“Le hannon!” she cried when she understood his words, impulsively wrapping her arms around him and embracing him before she left, a large smile etched on her face.

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As they rode through Ennorath, Amaruil realised just how dangerous it had become since she had last left Imladris; signs of Sauron’s return to power were everywhere and they often had to stop to avoid the orcs that roamed around the land, attacking innocent travellers. There was not a very large number of Elves sent by Elrond to swell the ranks of the Rohirrim but they still had to avoid spies such as crows sent from Dunhaven, ducking into trees and bushes as the Elves vanished instantaneously into the landscape.

The rolling hills became steeper and rockier as they entered Rohan; as they approached the Riders’ stronghold of Helm’s Deep the mountains began to rise up on either side of them, their sides covered in small sharp stones and blocking out the sun. As they neared it the deluge began, drowning the Eldar and their horses and drenching them through; as she sat on Ninquelote she shivered, her bow hitting her back as her body was wracked with tremors, both of paralysing cold and of chilling fear. Above them rose the walls of the fortress and behind it towered the sheer cliffs of the mountain.

One of the Elves in command ordered the army to speed up and peering below them they saw why – an enormous army, bigger than even theirs and composed of a variety of orcs, Urukhai, Dunlendings and other allies of their enemies was marching to the very same fortress.

As they approached the gates the Elves began to worry that they would not be admitted; they came ever nearer to the gates without them opening and Amaruil had begun to worry that they would be kept outside all night when they creaked open slowly, crawling apart a tiny increment at a time and allowing the Elves inside.

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