#The Men of Dunharrow

[rrcraft-and-lore]

Armies of the Dead/heaven in myths and epic fantasy - and the magic horns behind them!

One of the most famous armies of dead soldiers? The Men of Dunharrow, the army of the dead from Lord of the Rings who broke their oaths and renewed them finally under Aragorn.

Let's do this!

If you're a younger fantasy reader, or more modern, perhaps your introduction to this idea is in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time with his magical horn that summons an army and legendary heroes to the field.

Some fans have said this is inspired by the Norse horn Gjallarhorn. 

This is the horn trusted to Heimdallr to be blown to announce the beginning of Ragnarok and summon the Norse gods to the "thing" (thing is used in this case legitimately to mean - meeting, assembly, folkmoot) - in a moment like NORSE AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE! 

This includes the Einherjar, the spirits of Norse warriors of honored dead who fell in battle and reside in Valhalla. But was there another possible influence?

Well, we know RJ was a Tolkien fan, and honestly who wouldn't be back in the days of early fantasy? 

So, what of Tolkien's ghostly army of dead warriors? Well, if you haven't read the books, you might not know that Aragorn too summons his army of the dead with a magical horn (cut from the films). That's right. 

You see, Elrohir (one of the sons of Elrond, also cut from the films) entrusts Aragorn with a silver horn to summon the dead with at the Stone of Erech to deal with them. Tolkien was a Norse buff and loved the old epics as well as poems. 

So he was likely familiar with the stories just like with Gjallarhorn as well. But also, quite possibly the Song of Roland (a French epic poem) in where Roland and his forces are ambushed at Roncesvalles and are going to lose. In final desperation, Roland blows the horn, and the emperor hears the call. But the aid will not arrive in time (unlike the films and more modern stories where the heroes do arrive to save the day - this is cuz we like the just in the nick of time trope) so Roland dies blowing it one last time to hard in vengeance his temples burst (and he ascends to heaven), but...Charlemagne's army arrives in the aftermath and scatters the enemy. But, are there other armies of the dead? In fact, yes. 

The Night Marchers of Hawaii who come with a warm wind, & the smell of sulfur, and the call of a conch shell to herald them. If you come upon this procession with torches in the night, and you are an enemy...time to RUN! Because if you watch them your eyes might be incinerated.

Then there is the Wild Hunt - a shared myth motif present through eastern, northern, and western European cultures. A ghostly army of the souls of dead men (and creatures) usually united under a leader (though this figure changes), Herne, Odin/Woden, Gwyn ap Nudd, Sigurd or Siegfried the Dragon Slayer, Theodoric the Great, onward. Now, they're not summoned by a horn, but in some tales their coming is announced by one.

Now, an Indian cognate of the Wild Hunt and warriors in the service of heavens The Maruts.

The number of them vary from 20+ to over 180, to even more (yay conflicting mythological sources and arguments in ancient texts and interpretations).

But who are they? Companions and servants to Lord Indra, Slayer of the First Born of Dragons, and lord of the heavens and storms! So, fittingly, these warriors are very...storm themed. Violent, aggressive, expert combatants armed with lightning weaponary, and golden chariots to fly through the clouds on. Their war crys and battle sounds are like thunder. Their blows would split clouds (sounding thunder) and would hunt the enemies of Lord Indra and slaughter demons/monsters.

Interestingly they are often associated as the sons (children) of Rudra (the Rig Vedic storm and wind god). However, there is another group that often gets that association (obviously so), the Rudras.

The Rudras are similar in (some) regards to the Maruts but not all. They aid Vishnu in his battles against demons and are clad in lion-skins, and wear serpents around their necks. A crescent moon adorns their foreheads, and they wield golden tridents and carry a skull in one hand they wear necklaces of lightning illuminated clouds (how's that for bling bling?), and are monstrously feral in battle. Lord Shiva can call them with a blow of a conch shell/horn. 

Their overlap, association with the Maruts is because of some etymology and shared functions as they too are a divine/spiritual/demigod group of heavenly warriors to aid the good and destroy evil - demons/adversaries, and the root word in their name means the roarers, thunderers, or the shouters - and this is also mentioned of the Maruts.

Are these all there are for legendary armies of the dead, of gods/heaven to be summoned to the field or aid? No. But, it's rainy, I'm a little messed up (mental health and meds), and tired. 

So I'm going to bow out and read and study for Tremaine 3 and leave this minor comparative thread here for folks into this stuff.

[lordbucketofthecaribbean]

How do teachers expect me to finish my homework when I can be doing this instead

(Boromir is a little messy, still figuring out how to draw him)

[theworldsoftolkein]

[nokivaris-jpg]

Aragorn and the Dead men of Dunharrow

[madcat-world]

Dead Men of Dunharrow (1 of 5) - Artem Demura

[cimmerian-war-shrine]

[baheuldey]

Les Hommes Morts de Dunharrow / Dead Men of Dunharrow (Tolktober, 29), 2024, plume, lavis d'encre de Chine sur papier, 14,8 x 21 cm

[isilwhore]

For at Erech there stands yet a black stone that was brought, it was said, from Númenor by Isildur; and it was set upon a hill, and upon it the King of the Mountains swore allegiance to him in the beginning of the realm of Gondor. But when Sauron returned and grew in might again, Isildur summoned the Men of the Mountains to fulfil their oath, and they would not: for they had worshipped Sauron in the Dark Years.

Then Isildur said to their king: “Thou shalt be the last king. And if the West prove mightier than thy Black Master, this curse I lay upon thee and thy folk: to rest never until your oath is fulfilled. For this war will last through years uncounted, and you shall be summoned once again ere the end.” And they fled before the wrath of Isildur, and did not dare to go forth to war on Sauron’s part.

-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King

The Life of Isildur 5/10

[corellianhounds]

I think there need to be more variations on what a coffee shop AU could mean, like taking an incredibly gripping thriller or political intrigue or violent action story and setting it present day with the characters meeting in a social setting, confined by social mores and forced to have these otherwise devastating or despicable conversations filtered through polite social decorum. It especially works if what’s being said is an accusation, or a confession, or a twist or reveal, and it cannot be spoken outright because again: You’re in public. You can’t cause a scene. You can’t physically attack them. And there’s only so much you can get away with with other people watching.

And if you do break those social rules, there needs to be consequences! You can’t strip the AU of everything that still makes it a cute coffee shop setting or you’ve admitted the coffee shop setting doesn’t work for the story you’re trying to tell!

What happens when you take these big stories and concentrate them down into what’s considered a quaint and cute AU setting. How can that story still play out and what equivalencies and parallels to canon can you make by doing so

[thekingofwinterblog]

The Sad, Sad Tale of The Druedain.

Amongst Tolkien's many, many Human peoples, the Druedain might be the saddest in my opinion.

Both for their current situation, their history that led to them to this point, their very real and tragic real life inspirations, and the way everyone still alive, Drunedain, Numenorean, and everyone else has forgotten their true history and it's signifigance.

The Druedain's origins go back to the First age, where they(or the ones of them who wandered west into beleriand at least)were one of the Human people who fought against Morogth on behalf of the Valar, and upon the war's conclusion, they like all the rest of these Humans were given the name Edain, and many wonderous gifts.

Long life, massive size and strength compared to regular folk, and an island paridise kingdom to live in.

They called this land Numenor, named Elros, son of Earendil as their first king, and settled their new home, and so, these disparate and formerly different men of many origins joined together and mixed, becoming the Numenoreans.

And the Dru who joined them became the Druedain, one of the founding people of Numenor.

We don't know how much the Druedain intermarried with the rest(being the only ones that were visually distinct from the rest by the end) but given they and other men intermarried already in the first age(Earendil and all his descendants have Dru blood in their veins for examole), it's rather certain that enough did that by the time Numenor fell, most if maybe not all had at least one Druedain ancestor.

Whatever the case of that may be, both in Arnor and Gondor alike, the legacy of the Druedain(The great hunters, scouts and trackers of the Numenoreans) live on in the form of the rangers of North and south, both groip with incredible skill in all related to stealth, wilderness survival and hunting.

The skills of the wild that Aragorn displays was not learned just from personal experience. It, and the skills of all of rest of Dunedain, north and south were a distant, distant descandants of the Druedain's far greater, passed down through the ages until finally it ended up here, at the end of the third age.

Humanity is in truth, all one people, not many. They were split apart by unnatural means, and it is when Men combine their strength rather than let differences divide them, that they are truly strong.

But divided they were, for when the Numenoreans made contact with the outside world anew, after countless years of iaolation, the Druedain foresaw that their brethren would eventually fall to darkness, and so as they grew darker and darker, the Druedain began to sail back to Middle Earth, quietly, and rejoining the rest of the Dru, who had not left middle earth for Numenor.

And here we get into a usually overlooked tragedy, for during the dark years, when Sauron worked in Middle Earth, one of the people who opposed him and his were the Dru, now forever renamed the Druedain.

The image most fans have of Druedain was Tolkien obviously drawing inspiration from various primitive, tribal societies that Europeans encountered across the world during the age of exploration and colonization.

But that's not actually true, for the Druedain were inspired by two things, the first being the real life Woses, the mythical wild men of Europe's still untamed wilderness in medieval times.

But the second was the now forgotten native peoples of Europe, who nobody remembers anymore. And there are a lot of those, and most don't care to remember them any more.

For all the minorities of Europe who survived up to this day, many, many, many more were snuffed out forever by Europe's many waves of immigration and conquest, and nobody remembers them anymore, their culture forgotten, their languages dead, and whatever they made torn down and replaced by those who took their lands from them.

And so it is with the Druedain. For the state we see them in now, is not their "Natural" state so to say.

For the Druedain were also the true heirs of Numenor, as much as the Gondorians and the Arnorians ever were, and when they rejoined their distant kin, they helped them create a great and powerfull society, capable of raising massive and expertedly carved stone statues all across the lands that would one day become Rohan.

These are all that remains of their people's golden age, for these men who fought Sauron and his forces during the Dark years, were in turn conquered by another people who served sauron, and in turn took their lands from them, and built over their homes, and claimed rulership over these lands.

The ancestors of the oathbreakers of Dunharrow, drove the druedain into the hills and forests, where they were forced to live on nothing but hunting, and there they slowly forgot their roots, and were forgotten by all others.

Knowing all of this, it completely changes a lot of one's understanding of this People's oath to Isildur, and their ultimate rejection of it.

"Thou shalt be the last king, and if the west prove mightier than thy Black Master, this curse I lay upon thee and thy folk; to rest never until your oath is fulfilled. For this war will last through years uncounted, and you shall be summoned once again ere the end."

And such was the power of this oath, that upon breaking it, it destroyed their very spirit, and they fled and they hid in the mountains and dwindled and became fewer and fewer, and as the Druedain, they lost their homes, but not to sword, but their own cowardice and the gruesome power they had brought down upon themselves.

It's a very good tale, but when you know the background of all men, it becomes intimately intertwined with Tolkien's themes.

For what Isildur asked the mountain men, was to uphold their oath to fight sauron, and by doing so, earn redemption for their previous acts and crimes they did under his name.

And they refused to repent for their wicked ways and deeds and redeem themselves, and so they were cursed and destroyed... By a kinsmen of the people who's land they took by might and evil deeds.

There is something remarkably fitting about that.

However, justice did not heal the Druedain's wounds, for they did not come forth to join Elendil and Gil-Galad to fight sauron, as their ancestors had against Morgoth.

Instead they hid in their forest and hills, until such a time that they would be called upon once more, NOT by their kin, but a people who they had a personal and very real grievance with the Rohirrim.

For the Rohirrim became the stewards of their former lands after many other came and went, and they did not have a good relationship with the Druedain eitger, mistaking them for beasts or monsters, and turn hunting them...

But in the end, despite this, these two were able to make peace, and common cause, and bury the hatched. For though not direct kin as they were with the Gondorians, they were still both Human beings, they both fought evil, and by doing so, they both managed to survive and see another day and Age of peace and hope.

The tale of the Druedain is one of eternal sadness, but withouth hope. But it is a harsh reminder that important things, and people ARE forgotten. Good people can, and have been defeated, and evil folk can and have taken that which rightfully was theirs.

It's a bittersweet ending, like most things in the Legendarium.

[mothdalf]

Tolkientober day 3:

It was made by those who are dead. And the dead keep it.

[rptv-tolkien]

Dead Men of Dunharrow

by Victor Ambrus

[crowleying]

The Dead People of Tumblr

occasional posts from users

[theworldsoftolkein]

What Say You? - by Bembiann

Why Aragorn Didn't Take the Army of the Dead to Mordor | Fairly Fictional

Discover the Reasons as to Why Aragorn Chose Not to Take the Army of the Dead to Mordor. Let’s Solve 1 of the Mysteries of The Lord of the Rings.

[alikat7]

Lord of the Rings | Paradox of the Fourth Age

Mature

SUMMARY:

One wrong decision can make a world of difference. When one of the Fellowship makes the mistake, the consequences are so severe that only the Valar can repair it. But will they?

Glorfindel daughter's life is in Elrohir's hands and only she remembers their love for each other. The fate of Middle Earth depends on everyone walking their intended path.Torn between the past and the future, she is forbidden to warn them of any missteps.

Warnings: Het sex,Violence/War 

Chapter 1-28 Posted  - Read on AO3 & FF.net

A/N Believe it or not, I started this fic in 2006 but Ii stopped writing it in 2010. I always wanted to get back but I had a writers block to Lord of the Rings for 15 yrs. I have more chapters I've written, and don't intend to stop until finished.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Chapter 1: Daughter of the House of the Golden Flower

10th Day of April Fourth Age, Year 24 Grey Havens Glorfindel walked to the stables to retrieve his pack, leaving King Thranduil and Lord Círdan inside Círdan's halls. He was glad to have a moment to himself. He was frustrated that Lord Elrond was sending him to Aman with the first ship rather than allowing him to stay here to help defend his people. But it was crucial for the elves with Glorfindel to make it safely to the Grey Havens and the Lord of Imladris trusted no other.

Most of the Lórien elves that remained in Imladris had been in that company, though Lady Galadriel insisted on staying behind until everyone else had left. She was more worried about her people than herself, and in truth, of all the elves in Middle Earth, the Lothlórien elves had suffered the most. It was therefore decided that they should go to Valinor first before all others, and Glorfindel and Thranduil were to speak for those remaining elves in Middle Earth. "Lord Glorfindel, I did not see you." Looking up, he saw a petite elleth that seemed familiar to him. She smiled warmly at him and he was struck by the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. "Yes, I had one more thing to retrieve. I am sorry, I cannot remember your name," Glorfindel said softly, watching her as she began unbridling her horse. "I do not know if you ever knew my name. We have only met one time. I was working with Lord Círdan on some scrolls when you arrived once before." Turning to him, she said, "My name is Indil." Glorfindel nodded with a slight smile. He was not one to make idle conversation and struggled with it. In Imladris, many had thought him withdrawn and shy, others had even gone so far as to think him standoffish. He was none of these things, he just preferred to stay quiet unless he had something worthwhile to say rather than chatter as some did. Indil watched him subtly as she was brushing her horse down. She remembered him very well for he was perhaps the most handsome ellon she had ever seen. He was renowned for his bravery and heroic deeds but to her, he was simply beautiful. The way he radiated power was erotic. Blushing as if he could hear her thoughts, she turned away. When she accidentally knocked over a stool with a large metal bucket, it made such a racket it startled her horse. The horse tossed his head to the side, knocking against her, and Indil began to fall. Moments before she hit the ground, perhaps getting trampled by her own horse, Glorfindel caught her and pulled her away from the horse. As soon as she regained her footing, Glorfindel began to sooth the horse. She watched in awe of his tender yet firm control of the animal. The horse finally calmed down and Glorfindel turned back to her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, concerned. Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head. Glorfindel watched her a moment looking for any signs of injury, but seeing none, he removed his pack from the ground where he had dropped it. Turning back to her, he noticed she was still watching him quite intently. She was a little pale as if frightened. "Perhaps you would like me to put your horse in his stall," he offered. She nodded with a weak smile. "I feel he likes you more than he does me right now," she teased softly. He led the horse into the stall, patting his muzzle soothingly. Returning to her, he smiled. "He seems a little temperamental." "Yes, he is quite temperamental indeed. But I shall miss him," she replied sadly. "Do you leave on the ship with us?" he asked.

"Yes. Círdan wanted me to take some scrolls that he does not wish to be left behind. He will be sending someone from the village on each ship until the final one when the remainder will leave. I am ready to go though; this world is harsh and evil. It is hard to remember why we continue trying each day to even make it through," she said as they began to walk towards Círdan's house. Her searching glance found his eyes and the deep hurt within the azure depths was clear. "I need some peace as well, even though I have not suffered as some of the others," she continued. "My heart breaks each time I see one of the Lórien elves. I feel guilty that we in Mithlond have suffered the least. Other than a few unorganized attempts of Saruman's forces, we have been spared." Glorfindel looked at her in surprise. "Do not feel guilt for what is comforting to all of us. I fear that if the Grey Havens fell, the elves of Middle Earth would lose all hope. No, do not feel guilt. The elves here have welcomed the ones I bring with me with warmth and solace that was much needed."

Indil was quiet. She looked over at him a few times as if gathering her courage. "What of you, Lord Glorfindel? Why does a brave and honorable warrior carry such guilt after all that you have done?" Glorfindel smiled sadly and looked out to the ocean. They both walked in silence for a moment. "Forgive me, I should have not been so forward," Indil said, embarrassed. "No. I am not offended by what you said, it's just…" Glorfindel looked at her. "I do not know how to answer." "Just be honest: I am not judging you. Besides, I do not know you well enough to think anything you say is odd," Indil smiled. Glorfindel chuckled. The sound seemed strange to his ears and he realized he had not laughed in so long it sounded foreign. "Obviously Lord Elrond trusts you to have given you such an important duty." She saw a flicker of emotion across his eyes, a cross between hurt and frustration. She wanted to bite her tongue. Everything she said seemed to be wrong.

"Lord Glorfindel, once again, forgive me. It appears I am incapable of saying anything right tonight," Indil sputtered with a blush burning her cheeks. Glorfindel looked over and realized how uncomfortable he had made her. He had not realized he had betrayed his emotion about her last comment but she had obviously detected something. He wondered how he could make her feel less awkward. "Indil, please, there is no need to apologize. You have neither offended me nor appeared forward. Apparently, I am incapable of making elf maidens feel anything but discomfort," Glorfindel teased with a slight smile. 'He is making this elf maiden feel a lot more than just discomfort,' Indil thought but managed not to say. "Perhaps we should start again." Indil stopped in the middle of the path and looked at him. When he stopped, she said, "I am most honored to meet you, Lord Glorfindel." In very uncharacteristic behavior, Glorfindel smiled at her warmly as he said, "It is truly my honor, Lady Indil." The two stood quiet for a moment before he walked her home and she shyly wished him a good night. Over the next two days, as the elves made the final preparations to leave for Aman, Indil saw Glorfindel frequently and found herself unable to keep from watching him. He always seemed to be working harder or longer than everyone else, and though he hovered on the fringes of the tight-knit group of elves that had come with him, he was most often alone. She could not understand why he seemed to exclude himself so much. The night before they sailed to Aman, Indil caught sight of him as she walked home. Glorfindel had removed his shirt and tied his hair back to keep it from interfering as he loaded various items on the ship. In the setting sun, he was quite a vision and she stopped to watch him. His skin had the barest glisten of sweat across his muscular upper body. Indil felt herself blushing. Again. It seemed that Lord Glorfindel had caused more blushes in two days than anyone else had in all of her life. "Perhaps Lord Glorfindel could use some refreshment." Lord Círdan's voice caused her to jump. Looking at him guiltily, Indil was mortified that he was smirking at her. She opened her mouth to say something to imply she was not doing what he thought she was. Realizing she was not that good of a liar, she shut her mouth. When he chuckled, she wished she could just disappear. "Lady Indil, I have never seen you at a loss for words. Are you well? Perhaps someone should go in your place tomorrow if you feel you are not well enough to go." Círdan could not quite conceal his amusement. He had known Indil all of her life and he had never seen her act this flustered or guilty before. Despite the seriousness of the time, it was refreshing to see something so simple as the innocent infatuation of an elleth. It particularly touched his heart that her interest had fallen upon Glorfindel. His dear friend needed some happiness even if it was just the simple admiration of a beautiful elleth. Handing Indil a flagon of cool water, he nodded toward Glorfindel.

Taking the water, Indil walked down the planks to the ship, trying to calm her breathing as she approached. By the time she reached him, she finally felt somewhat under control. "Lord Glorfindel, you look hot and lonely. Perhaps you are in need of a moment's respite so you can cool down." Indil almost choked when she realized what she had just said and unable to speak, she thrust the water towards him. Indil began to giggle uncontrollably. The giggle quickly grew into laughter and she had to look away from him, trying to compose herself. When she turned back around, amusement marked his expression and she pointedly turned away to gaze out at the ocean. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he drank some water. He was a beautiful sight. Of course, as if she had not made enough of a fool of herself, he caught her watching him.

Glorfindel was intrigued. He did not know Indil well enough to know if she normally was this easy to embarrass or set off into giggles. He had seen her often during the previous two days and she looked as if she was very serious when working. She had a cheerful and warm personality and appeared very self-confident, so he did not understand why she seemed less so with him. When he caught her looking at him, he grinned to himself. Trying to figure out a way to recover herself and seeing none, Indil smiled when he returned the water to her and said goodnight. Walking away as quickly as she could, Indil tried to regain some of her dignity, which she had managed to lose entirely in the last couple of days. Glorfindel smiled as he watched her leave. He would have stopped her but felt uncomfortable doing so. Besides they would be leaving midday tomorrow; perhaps he could get to know this mysterious elleth on the ship.

-x-x-x- The following night, Glorfindel came upon Indil sitting by herself on the deck. Even with just the moonlight on her, he could see how sad she was. After a moment, he realized that she was crying, her eyes fixed upon the horizon. He debated whether he should speak to her or leave her to her own thoughts, but though he normally would not have gone to comfort a relative stranger, she seemed so alone. Drawn to her despite his natural reservations, Glorfindel approached her. "Lady Indil, are you well?" he said softly as he sat beside her on the bench. Indil tried to smile and dismiss his concerns, but she took one look in his eyes and could not. Lowering her head, her quiet sobs continued. She felt him gently take her hand and she looked at him. "What is it?" Glorfindel asked gently. "It is just difficult. I feel so terrible about it all. As we were leaving today, I was so relieved to leave, yet I feel guilty that I was able to and so many were not. I will miss my friends and Lord Círdan. I always thought I would be going to the Undying Lands because the sea called me, not because all elves were being forced to leave Middle Earth. I just feel so selfish and petty because I am feeling sorry for myself while others on board have lived through a nightmare. There are those we have left behind who might not make it to Aman at all and so many who have died before they ever had a chance to leave. I have had the good fortune of leaving early, and here I am, crying and whining to you like a spoilt child. I thought I would feel happy to be away but I just feel…" Indil drifted off. "Alone?" Glorfindel asked after a few moments. Indil nodded sadly. They sat there for a long time in silence. Eventually, she looked up at him with a weak smile and saw the depth of sadness in his eyes. They had slowly gravitated towards each other and were now sitting very close together. Indil felt a rush of warmth course through her body as she realized how little space remained between them. It felt so intimate. Her fingers had intertwined with his and he was lightly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Glorfindel could not explain why it felt as if they had known each other forever when they had spoken only a few times. He felt comfort with her that he had not felt in awhile. Yet that comfort confused him as well. He worried that he was just reacting to the situation of leaving Middle Earth but he felt drawn to her. She had stopped crying and the two of them locked eyes for a few moments. Without even thinking, he leaned towards her and kissed her softly, tasting the salty sea air on her lips. Indil's heart skipped a beat when he kissed her. It was a light kiss, barely a brush of their lips. His second kiss was longer as his lips danced gracefully against hers, caressing and teasing her lips. She felt herself melt into him as he brought his hand to cradle her head and boldly brought her closer to him. His kiss was as he was: powerful, sensual, erotic. Indil felt as if she was on fire yet she did not want to move away from the burning heat. Indil opened her mouth slightly and Glorfindel plunged his tongue into the hot depths of her mouth. Following his lead, she caressed his tongue with her own, her arm wrapping around his waist as their embrace became more heated. He felt passion flood his whole body as he took possession of her lips. Suddenly, Glorfindel was aware that they were no longer alone and pulled away from her quickly. Indil looked hurt until she heard the voices as well. Moving slightly apart, they resumed looking out at the ocean while the other elves on the deck walked past and sat nearby. For a long time they sat holding hands and stealing looks at each other wondering what had just transpired between them. And secretly wishing the other elves would leave so they could continue

Chapter 1: Daughter of the House of the Golden Flower

24th Day of September Fourth Age, Year 88 Tirion, Aman

~~**~~ The shadows swelled as Glorfindel struggled to see. His heart beat loudly and his breathing was shallow. Círdan looked at him and seemed to call out to Glorfindel, pleading with him to end his misery at last. Glorfindel moved to help his friend only to realize he was meant to observe and suffer, not help. Strong unseen fingers clutched his shoulders, holding him back to watch his friend's agony. Círdan looked as though he had been tortured endlessly until his fëa strained to leave his hröa, to let him fade. Defeat was in his eyes. The elf's once fair face was now lined with age until he was almost unrecognizable.

A movement out of the corner of his vision drew Glorfindel's eyes to a white figure standing helplessly to the side. Although the two were but steps from each other, some unseen barrier prevented Mithrandir from helping Círdan.

Glorfindel struggled in vain to reach his friends, to help them. Mithrandir looked at him sadly.

"He is coming," was all he said before the shadows concealed them both from view.

Suddenly Glorfindel was released and fell to the ground. He was alone in blackness.

-x-x-x-

Glorfindel jerked awake and sat up straight in bed. He was drenched in sweat and felt like he could not breathe. As he gasped for breath, Indil sat up and grabbed his arm. He looked at her as if he did not recognize her.

"What is it? What is wrong?" she said, concerned. Glorfindel's horrific nightmares had ceased years ago.

Glorfindel struggled to recover and compose himself. Finally, he smiled weakly and gently touched her face.

"'Tis merely a dream. Rest, it is still early," he said as he kissed her lightly.

Continue reading on AO3 or FF.net

[cimmerian-war-shrine]