The Rescue of Celebrian

The pace of their journey quickened as the days wore on. As much ground as could be safely covered in a day was walked from earliest light until an hour or more before dusk, when a camp was made and lessons were continued. Instructing the women in their dart throwing fell to Ninde, while Galadriel and Arwen, trained in arms as well, took groups to practice with bladed and quarterstaves, while others went elsewhere within the forest to shoot and spar with swords and knives. By the time the anxious but ready group sighted the pass through the Misty Mountains, autumn had finally left its first mark on the tips of the leaves, faintly dappling the forest with gold and orange and crimson, though green still dominated the landscape... except where a great dark track snaked out of the mountains, rocky and rough, clearly made by the tramping of booted goblin feet and the herding of prisoners and livestock.

“In the trees we would pass unnoticed for some time,” Ninde said to Elladan, riding beside her.

“And be so far downhill that, should we need to enter the pass, we would be forced to leave the horses and wagon behind,” he replied with regret. His instincts, too, said to keep to the trees, slow though the going might be.

“It’s only what feels safest,” she muttered.

“I know,” he replied, and tentatively took her hand. “He’ll be all right.”

“His father left him with me for that purpose,” Ninde agreed. “I can only hope they’re fully prepared for what we’ve decided to do.”

“They are as prepared as we can help them be,” Celeborn said, joining the pair just left of the path. “And your nephew has excelled in those preparations. I do not think you need worry so much, Lady Ninde.”

The conversation continued, going over remembered features of the pass’ interior the last time any of the three had seen it, identifying ambush points and potential resting areas. While they spoke, Ninde’s hand never left Elladan’s. From fear, he wondered, or something else? The significant looks between Elrohir and Arwen had hardly escaped his notice, and he saw the tiniest hint of a smile at the corner of his grandfather’s lip.

It would work itself out in time, he decided, and simply allowed the contact to continue, or would have, had a high pitched shrieking not cut it off.

“ADA! ADA! ADA! ADA!” The winds of Manwe seemed to turn in their favor and blew down from the mountain, away from the ears of the goblins within. Every man in the party hearing the sound started like a deer before, as one, the party followed it to a ravine a little way into the forest. Far at the bottom, Lossewen had slipped on fallen leaves. The first over the edge, and the first to reach the child, was Celeborn.

“I’m here, I’m here. You’re alright. Hush now, Lossewen, you’re safe. Ada has you…”

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. No, their grandfather did not realize what he said. And yet, as Galadriel joined them with little Veon at her heels, it seemed to work. The girl stopped her shrieking and buried her grubby face in his tunic. True she still sobbed and shook with unrestrained terror, but they’d seen a change in her silvery eyes before she hid them away. Her battered little spirit was attached to her body, fully and fiercely. It was the first time in the weeks since her rescue they’d heard her voice.

“What were you doing all the way out here Darling?” Galadriel asked.

“We must stay away from the goblins,” the child whispered past the thumb she nibbled. “Mama says we must always stay away from the goblins, and never never use the mountain pass where the Rivendell lady died.”

“The Wandering Companies haven’t heard about Mother’s return,” Arwen remarked, seeking a way out of the ravine that would carry them further along their intended march. One of the horses took the opportunity to snatch at an apple tree above their heads, shaking loose fruit down on top of them. It was all the reminder they needed, and without further discussion, they filed back out of the wash and remounted, the child huddled protectively across Celeborn’s knees. The next miles went faster than any they had traveled since changing course; for the first time, the entire party could almost feel the breath of a band of goblins on their heels.

Riding together at the head of the party, Celebrian’s family had a decision to make before night fell; to press on into the pass and travel to the first likely campsite in the dark, or camp early at the mouth and travel only with the benefit of sunlight. Which was best, to cover the most ground in the least amount of time, or to proceed with caution and take every advantage they could get? To transverse the pass without incident would be too much to ask; attack would come, it was as assured as sunrise. The decision lay in second-guessing the goblins’ intentions.

“Well, Grandmother, what do you think?” Elrohir asked, ever the direct one. “Do we camp early or press on through dusk?”

“Why do you ask me?” Galadriel replied, amused. “I am no soldier.”

“But you are the only one here present with foresight, unless our baby sister has been keeping secrets.”

If Arwen had a reply, it was forestalled by Celeborn’s quiet chuckle.

“Your grandmother and I think it best to rest well before entering the pass by daylight. At least, with only one likely angle of attack, if the goblins move tonight, the women and children have better means of escape. We disagree on whether to continue to rest nightly with heavy guard, or to push straight through, relying on speed to avoid more than a passing skirmish.”

“Once within those walls,” Elladan added, “any attack will lead to fighting our way out, or fighting our way back.”

“And we cannot expect everyone to go three days or more with no rest. Stealth might serve us best,” Arwen said reasonably. “If we make all haste during daylight and camp with caution, we decrease our chances of detection.”

“Were we alone,” Celeborn said to the twins, “or a group of hardened fighters, my thoughts would be different. We three together could make the trip by night or day, but we could not do so and remain undetected. But the children make me second guess my instincts.”

“My instinct tells me none will rest except for pure exhaustion within sight of the pass,” Galadriel said. “We would waste time, I fear, attempting to rest by night, waiting for our enemies to descend upon us at any moment, and exhaust beyond usefulness those who would both guard by night and defend by day.”

“Will the children bear up under such conditions?” Elrohir asked his grandmother. “And the injured and women from the Greenwood?”

“It was they who made the decision to take this route,” Arwen added thoughtfully.

“These goblins are not the most intelligent of creatures,” Elladan said, “but they will know their territory. They will wait until we are near the middle of the pass, when escape will be the most difficult.”

“Like they did to Mother,” Elrohir added through a set jaw.

The family fell silent, thinking.

“I say we camp tonight outside the pass,” Elrohir declared, “then push hard until it is clear the majority need to rest, and use the freshest as guards in shifts. Perhaps we can shorten both the travel time and the rest periods without endangering anyone more than we already are.”

“I continue to doubt the wisdom of this decision,” Celeborn said, looking at the sleeping child on his lap. “But, as it is already made, your plan sounds best. We shall camp below the pass, and spend one more night with the comfort of trees.”

~*~

The night passed without event, and morning dawned pink and crisp, the picture of early autumn splendor. No one, however, enjoyed it, and the camp was packed silently with all possible haste, a feeling of dread lurking around the edges like the last wisps of a smoky fire.

Elladan walked what little remained of their camp, a list of details running through his mind. They had tended any wounds or injuries on the horses, to help avoid sudden lameness in the pass. Packs had been checked and rechecked, with weight redistributed now that their food supplies had been partially used. The wagon, then, would need seen to. The axles checked, the wheels gone over.

But when he turned toward it, he found all but Ninde’s feet and legs beneath the conveyance and a grease pot near her bent knees.

“Great minds think in similar ways,” she said quietly.

“Will it endure the journey?”

“It will, barring rockslides and fire,” Ninde decided as she sat up. “I’ve greased the hubs more thoroughly than usual. No squeaks to bring them down on us.”

Elladan nodded. “I’d not thought of fire. It could be used against us as a roadblock, if set alight.”

“They may have thought of it. It would be best to leave me in the rear. If beset, it is faster to cut the horse loose and set torch to it myself to keep them off our retreat.”

“You would be the first attacked,” Elladan said.

“Yes.”

“Perhaps I should drive,” he continued, extending a hand to help her to her feet.

“You would then have me scout?”

“No. That is equally likely to leave you the first to encounter them.”

Ninde laughed. “I cannot be carried to Rivendell in a golden casket like a gem, and it is not your express duty to keep me safe. I’ve fought goblins off and on since long before you were born.”

“You should not have to do so,” he began, but stopped. Why was this discussion even taking place?

“Why?” Ninde asked. When he made no reply, she continued. “You cannot protect everyone from everything. You are one man, even if some think there are two of you at times.”

Elladan remained uncharacteristically quiet.

“Fear impacts us all in different ways,” she said, and slipped an arm around his waist. “You said yourself to Veon that it can be a strength at times. There is no shame in this. I’m frightened too, for my nephew and the little girl and even your sister.”

“My sister is well looked-after,” Elladan replied. “I have less concern on that score.”

“Then why?” Ninde asked.

“You know.”

“What do you think I know?”

Elladan couldn’t stand having empty hands any longer, and reached for her cheek. He met her gaze, held it, careful to disobey the newly wakened part of him demanding he crush her against his chest and steal her breath with kisses. His other hand slipped down her arm to find her fingers and pressed them to his chest over his racing heart. One step backward and they would lean against the wheel. She would get grease smears on her skirt, and would she care?

He did not know. But he took the step anyway, buried his fingers in her hair…

“You know.” Ninde froze, trembling faintly, breathing faster than she usually did. “Ninde… you must know?”

She nodded, and air rushed into Elladan’s lungs like a sudden draught of spring.

“But…” She swallowed hard, and began again. “But I also know that I am old, and you are not; and I’m taking my last journey in this earth, and you... are not.”

“None of that undoes the knowing,” Elladan vowed.

“Would that it could,” Ninde said, dropping her forehead onto his chest.

“Never,” he argued. “I would kiss you breathless, love you to exhaustion, and see that you’re never sad again, if I could. I can’t. I know this. And nothing is sure. But,” Elladan paused to lift her face and meet her eyes again, “I would have what I may while the music allows it.”

“Too brief,” she said with a gravelly voice. “It isn’t right. Not fair.”

“Better too brief than not at all,” he replied, inches from her lips, planning in that moment to move no further. The decision to consent to loving him, or to break their hearts, must be hers. He closed his eyes, and waited. Ninde grasped his shoulders and his heart leapt like a startled grouse. She was warm and quivering against him, brushing his nose with hers, pressed up on her toes and leaning into him for balance. Misgivings still gripped her, held her back even as he cupped her hip and pressed them closer than either had ever been with another. He would go mad, he was sure of it.

“Please?” he begged in a breath, barely a whisper. A sob escaped her lips in the split second before they met his, and their first intimacy tasted of salt and fear and hope and the frightful elation of knowing.

Eventually one of them had to breathe, and they parted different people, conscious each of the other even when they no longer touched. Was this the bonding, then? How Elrohir had felt with Nariel at that pool and beyond? Had he known, felt the blows, when she died? Would he suffer vicariously, as Elladan himself had at the time of Nariel's death, if Ninde were killed in this foolish journey of revenge? So many questions!

“Whatever are we to do now?” he asked as Ninde dried her eyes with her sleeve. She took a breath and looked away past the edge of the trees.

“I plan to drive through this infernal pass and kill as many goblins as are necessary for you and my nephew and myself to reach the opposite side safely. After that, I should like a good long rest, and a hot bath, and a meal featuring as much good wine as can be had. Beyond that… I do not believe it is wise to plan.”

It was hard to overlook the wisdom of the decision, so Elladan nodded. “Then I shall ride and fight and bathe beside you.”

Ninde smiled. “Good.”

~*~
A.N.-- Chapter title taken from "Point of No Return" from Andrew Lloyd Webber's rock opera adaptation of "The Phantom of the Opera" by Gaston Leroux.