Destiny Bound

Author's Note: Readers familiar with my writings will recognize the first part of this story, which was taken directly from "The Last One Standing". This story is the alternate ending of the trilogy, the chance to incorporate into writing ideas that were developed during the original story but never included. Please note that to understand the events below, reading of the rest of my stories is essential.

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“My only regret is that I will not be able to torture you as you did Celebrían!” Faye snarled, her voice slightly muffled by the hindrance of the cracked jawbone. “For ten years, I hunted you. I dreamed of the day I would finally bring you down. In the name of the Valar, I avenge my family.”

Faye charged forward, and Thuringwethil met her charge. Blinded by fury, Faye did not react fast enough to avoid her. Thuringwethil struck her chin, forcing her head back and exposing her neck, then sank her fangs deep into the tender flesh. Faye cried out as the creature started leeching the little blood she had left. She could feel Thuringwethil start to transform, and she desperately grasped the rapidly disappearing cloak, pulling with all of her strength. The strip of cloth securing the garment around Thuringwethil’s neck ripped, and the creature released Faye and stumbled backwards, screaming so loudly that Faye could feel blood starting to trickle from her ears. Blinded by pain and shock from the bite, she estimated her aim, stepped into range, and swung the sword around.

Thuringwethil abruptly stopped screaming. Faye shook her head to clear her vision, gasping as she watched the creature sink to her knees, shock clear on her face. For a moment, their gazes met, then Thuringwethil fell forward, her head rolling from her shoulders and coming to a stop at Faye’s feet. There was a low hiss, then the creature’s body crumbled into dust, leaving Faye standing alone in the clearing with the blade in one hand and the cloak in the other.

With a deep sigh, Faye let the silver blade fall to the blood-drenched soil. It was over. The quest was finally complete. She had defeated her enemy, avenged her family, and redeemed herself in the eyes of the Valar. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel the pain of her wounds, and she trembled as a sob escaped her.

“Arwen, my darling,” she whispered. “I’m coming home.”

Faye allowed herself to sink to the ground, desperate for rest. Low sounds echoed in the distance, similar to drums and deep horns, but she did not hear them. She focused her gaze on the iron-toothed animal trap, the simple object that had aided her victory.

“My lords,” she whispered, a prayer to the Valar forming in her fogged mind. “Grant me strength. Guide me home.”

She was exhausted, and as a cold wind ripped over her, she turned her gaze to the forgotten cloak. The fabric was strangely warm, almost soothing against the bare skin of her arm, and she slipped the cloak around her shoulders. The pain abruptly eased, and she took a calming breath. The burning that had been a constant source of discomfort in her belly for the past ten years was suddenly gone, and she accepted it as a sign that the Valar were pleased. Faye sighed and allowed herself to relax, her eyes slowly closing.

For a moment, everything was black, and she was at peace. Then, she felt a distinct discomfort. Something was watching her, and she opened her eyes. However, she did not realize she was no longer alone until the horse came into focus. It stood barely a yard away, the bone-thin legs coated in what looked like blood. Black hooves sank into the bloody soil, and after her eyesight fully focused, she grunted in confusion. For a moment, she wondered how it could walk with nails hammered through its hooves. Forcing herself to sit up, she let her eyes trail up the muscular leg, the broad chest, the proud arched neck, and the heavily armored head. White froth dripped from its heavy lips, and points of reddish light shone in its fierce black eyes. She turned her head and glanced up at the rider.

Every inch of Faye’s body turned cold as she stared into the blackness. The rider was robed in a thick cloak of similar material as she wore, but it was much heavier. It had no face, but its hands were armored, and in one hand it held a wicked blade. For the first time, fear budded in Faye’s heart. She couldn’t bring herself to even growl at the new arrival, though she knew she was in deep danger.

The rider dismounted and approached her. Faye couldn’t move; her muscles were frozen in terror. It grasped her by the neck, lifting her to her feet.

“Slayer of the shadow woman,” it hissed, its voice icy. “Our master will be very pleased with you.”

Faye realized then that the rider was not alone. Two others had materialized out of the darkness. The first rider held her in the air, and the other two rode forward and grasped her arms.

“Take her back to Dol Guldur,” the rider commanded. “She is the last one standing. She will make a fine replacement.”

It suddenly reached forward and pressed its hand to Faye’s chest, grasping hold of the amulet that Celebrían had given her. Something was triggered deep within her exhausted body at that moment. A spark, a licking flame that spread from the center of her heart and torched through every vein and nerve. She tensed, her bloodied hands curling into fists.

“N…never,” she hissed.

She kicked out her legs to either side. Both of her feet struck the respective horse of the riders holding her arms. Wild shrieks mixed with the gruesome crack of breaking bone. The horse to her left fell forward, the other leapt to the side. Both riders lost their grip on her, their metallic gloves rending deep gashes in her arms as their mortally wounded mounts dragged them away. Faye could not stop to think. She drew her hands together and swung them downward, right over the wrist of the lead rider. With a ringing metallic clang, the glove burst apart, and Faye fell to the blood-soaked earth. She was instantly in full flight. The riders reacted fast, but not fast enough. Out of the barest corner of her eye, she saw the silver blade on the ground fade and vanish into nothingness. Then, she was throwing herself into the forest and tearing off through the undergrowth.

Where this sudden burst of strength was coming from, Faye would never know. She could hear the shrieking of the riders, the pounding hoofbeats of the remaining horse. But fear was guiding her now, and the forest—before so dark and forboding—was now her saving grace. The undergrowth was too thick for the horse to pass through easily. With every second, she gained ground against her pursuers. The branches of the trees whipped and lashed her as she ran, the thorny reeds ripping the skin on her legs. She did not notice. Did not feel. The world was blackness before her eyes. Even when the sounds of the chase faded to silence, she continued to run. She could not even tell which direction she was fleeing. Not even when, after what seemed like countless hours, the trees broke onto a wide empty prairie. Faye kept running.

Sunrise came, breaking the darkness with a flood of red and gold. It glinted off the surface of a wide river that lay in the near distance, and filled the horizon with shimmering green and yellow. Thick reedy marsh plants dotted the ground here, catching Faye’s feet, finally tripping her. She pitched forward in mid-stride, hitting the ground on her left shoulder so hard that she felt her collarbone snap. A sharp, piercing yelp burst from her throat. She rolled to a stop, her ankles completely entangled in thorny marsh vine.

The fear did not fade, so deeply had it pierced her heart. But once down, Faye could not find strength anymore. The stolen cloak swathed her, radiating an unnatural chill that deadened the pain of her many wounds. But it was badly torn now, as was what was left of her clothing.

Hours passed, the sun slowly climbing up the eastern sky. Faye lay where she had fallen, fading in and out of consciousness. Her broken jaw had set wrong; she could no longer close it. She had not the strength even to bat away a stray fly as it alighted on her upper lip.

A flicker of shadow passed by overhead. The soft thudding of flapping wings. The blackness was threatening to swallow Faye again. She could not even glance up to see what was approaching, even when she felt it land right in front of her. Something soft and feathery swept over her face, swishing the fly away.

“Hang on, brave Faye,” a soft deep voice whispered. “Help is near. My masters are very proud of you.”

She could hear the footsteps now, soft and light. And she could smell something familiar in the air. Earthy, sweet. Like flowers.

Mallorn blossoms. Yes…she could remember that now.

“Sweet Eru…that can’t be her.”

“Is she even alive?”

“Do not approach her! She could be dangerous.”

“Peace.” The first voice swiftly silenced the others. “Believe what your eyes are showing you. This is Faye, Elf-friend and Valar blessed. She has succeeded in her quest, and now she is in desperate need of your help. She is too weak to harm you now.”

The footsteps were drawing closer. A tall blurred form appeared in her line of sight. Faye gasped and whimpered. She knew who had come for her now. A squad of Lórien scouts. The closest crouched in front of her, a warm and gentle hand settling on the side of her face.

“Easy, Lady Faye,” the Elf whispered, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “You are safe now. We are here to take you home.”

Faye’s heart fluttered at his words. Take her home. Take her to Arwen.

“A..a…,” she began, but she could not form the word she was suddenly desperate to speak.

More hands were upon her now, cutting the vines away from her ankles, wrapping open wounds in cloth. Someone started to pull the cloak away.

“Leave it,” the first voice said suddenly. “Black though its magic is, it is soothing her pain right now. In her possession, it can do no harm.”

Faye tried to speak again. But the hand on her face pressed a finger to her lip, silencing her.

“Arwen is waiting for you,” the Elf assured. “We will take you to her.”

“Sleep now,” another voice beckoned. “You will be safe in the Golden Wood soon.”

She felt herself being lifted, carried. Faye did not protest. She let her head roll onto an unknown shoulder, her eyelids closing. The earlier fear was completely gone. A soothing warmth had replaced it. Her trials were over, finally over. And she was going home, to Arwen, to her family.

She was going home.

*****

Afternoon in Caras Galadhon was a quiet affair today. The atmosphere was one of peace. On one of the highest talans, Arwen sat in company with her grandmother, Galadriel. Few words had passed between them in the few hours they had been here. But Arwen had dwelled in Lórien long enough to be completely comfortable with the legendary Lady of the Golden Wood. She worked quietly on a piece of embroidery, her skilled fingers delicately moving the needle and thread into a gorgeous pattern of golden leaves. Galadriel was reading a book. But she stole peeks at her granddaughter from time to time, watching her progress. It always reminded the great Lady of her daughter Celebrían when Arwen worked like this. Ten years had passed since she had chosen to depart Middle-earth. Arwen’s presence had done much to ease the burden of sorrow not only on Galadriel’s heart, but on the hearts of all of the inhabitants of Lórien who had loved Celebrían.

So long had the quiet lasted around them, that when the sound of footsteps came hurrying up the stairs in the corridor, it startled them both. Arwen’s embroidery slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. The she-Elf sighed through her teeth in irritation.

“What is going on, Grandmother?” she asked as she bent forward to pick it up.

“I am not sure,” Galadriel replied.

She set the book aside and stood. A second later, the door opened, and one of Galadriel’s maids came running in. She was out of breath, but the expression on her face was radiant.

“Is something wrong, Aliana?” Galadriel asked sternly.

“No, Milady. It is miraculous news,” Aliana gasped. “Earlier this morning, Lord Celeborn and his scouting party were bidden to cross the Anduin by an eagle. It guided them north along the east side of the river, towards the flood marshes.” She paused, taking a deep breath. Her smile grew wider. “They found Lady Faye.”

Arwen gasped loudly, the embroidery falling from her hands once more. This time, she did not retrieve it. She leapt from her chair, rushing forward and grasping the maid’s hands.

“Are you sure, Aliana?” she pressed. Tears of joy were already glistening in her eyes.

“The message came from Lord Celeborn himself!” Aliana replied. “Lady Faye is alive, and she is being brought here as we speak.”

“Not directly here,” Galadriel corrected, interrupting Arwen’s building cry of delight. Her eyes were closed and her head turned away. Arwen knew she was communicating with Celeborn, getting the news for herself. “Aliana, have the stables prepare horses. Arwen and I will go to her at once.”

Aliana nodded and ran out of the room, disappearing in an instant. Arwen turned her watering eyes to her grandmother, who was still concentrating.

“Grandmother…?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

“Celeborn says Faye is very badly injured,” Galadriel replied tonelessly. “And she is very weak.”

Arwen paled, her eyes growing wide. Galadriel shook her head and opened her eyes.

“Come,” she said. “She needs you.”

And she could not remember a time she had moved faster. Arwen practically ran down the steps to the base of the great tree of Caras Galadhon. Galadriel was hard-pressed to keep pace with her. Aliana had moved even faster. Their horses were ready to go when they arrived.

Arwen’s mare sensed her urgency, and broke into a gallop as soon as her mistress was in the saddle. Galadriel and their accompanying guard were fast on her heels. None wanted to call her back. For Arwen, the ride was spent with her mind full of worry and questions. Was Faye going to be alright? Why had she been gone for ten years? Was her quest finished? Was Thuringwethil dead? Or would she have to leave again?

The day wore into late evening by the time they arrived at the outpost where Lord Celeborn had brought Faye. He was waiting for her when Arwen rode into view, smiling as he watched his granddaughter’s eyes stare imploringly around, searching.

“Easy, my Evenstar,” Celeborn said softly. “Faye is just yonder. I know you are worried about her. I can see it in your eyes. Put your mind at ease; her quest is finished. But the final battle did great damage. The creature was not the only enemy she had to face to return to us. Haldir was able to capture a wild boar, which has revived her a bit. But it will be some time before she recovers. Even for a vampire…the last years have punished her greatly.”

The tears were falling freely down Arwen’s face. Celeborn gripped her for a moment, then gently beckoned her forward. He led her around the nearest tree, to where the rest of his scouting party was gathered. A pale form lay at their feet, resting on a makeshift bed of dried leaves covered in blankets. Arwen approached slowly, seeing her beloved guardian open her eyes at her approach. A light seemed to flicker on within them.

“A…Arwen,” she whispered.

Arwen sank to her knees at Faye’s side. She gathered her guardian’s hands in hers, flinching at the angry gashes that slit her forearms. She had never seen Faye’s skin so ghostly pale before. Her mouth hung slightly open, her jaw set at an unnatural angle. And her left leg was glistening and withered, just barely starting to heal over from what clearly had been a massive injury to the skin and flesh. It was horrific, stomach churning. She was forced to close her eyes for a moment and force back sobs.

“Oh, Faye,” she whispered.

Faye gave a very slight, awkward smile. Her grip tightened slightly around Arwen’s fingers.

“I…” she began, wincing as she tried to shift her jaw to speak clearly. “I…ah…”

“No,” Arwen replied quickly, bending over and pressing her forehead gently to Faye’s. “Do not speak. You need to rest.”

Faye raised their clenched hands, grazing the back of her hand to Arwen’s cheek, brushing away a tear. Several more took its place as Arwen’s body shook in a sob.

“Sleep, Faye,” she managed to say. “Sleep. You’re home now. You are safe.” She kissed Faye’s forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

Faye nodded slightly, her eyelids fluttering. Arwen held her until she was completely unconscious. Then, she turned her tear-soaked gaze back to where Celeborn and Galadriel stood.

“What happened to her?” she whispered.

“What had to be done, Lady Arwen.”

Arwen jumped and turned. A handsome eagle had settled on the exposed root of the nearby tree. She could recognize it immediately by its rich brown and gold feathers.

“Lady Faye’s task is done. And in time, her wounds and pains will heal and fade. My masters entrust her care to you now.”

The gathered Elves inclined their heads respectfully. The eagle spread its wings, clicking its beak a few times. It was hard to tell, but it almost seemed to be smiling.

“The last of the shadows of the ancient times is dead,” it said. “May the race of Elves now look to a future of peace.”

“We praise the Valar,” Galadriel replied. “Thank you.”

The eagle nodded, then took flight. Everyone present watched as it glided out towards the open plains and out of sight. A moment later, Galadriel knelt by her granddaughter’s side, settling her hands on her shoulders.

“Faye will not heal lying out here,” she said softly. “It is time to take her home. She will be better cared for in Caras Galadhon.”

Arwen nodded, allowing her grandmother to assist her to her feet. Celeborn beckoned a few scouts forward.

“We will have to carry her on foot. Best not to test our horses in her condition,” he said.

Arwen stood back with Galadriel, watching as her dearest friend was gathered into a makeshift stretcher. It was while this was being done that Arwen noticed the tattered black cloak wrapped around Faye’s shoulders. She gasped, recognizing it at once.

“Take it off of her!” she insisted. “Why is she wearing that horrid thing?”

“It is helping her,” Celeborn said gently. “She would be in a great deal of pain otherwise. And the eagle assured that its magic will do us no harm while Faye is in possession of it.”

Night had fallen now. The Elves were quick to start heading deeper into the protection of the forest. With Faye in such a deep state of unconsciousness, the horses were relaxed. Arwen rode as close to the stretcher bearers as possible, trying to regain her composure. Faye was in a terrible state, but she would recover. And she would never have to leave again.

And with the shadow woman dead, there was nothing left now to threaten her family.