Chapter Ten

{Fangorn, the Gladden Fields, and Lothlórien, Ender days, 2 TA (approx. beg. October)}

Time seemed to pass slowly after the defeat of Sauron and the end of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, but none of it mattered to Ecthelion as he stayed within Fangorn Forest with his friend...his kin. They roamed the forest, hunting when they needed to for survival, and running throughout the tangled weave of trees in both joy and freedom. But his heart was still troubled and heavy at night when he gazed up at the stars and moon. At times they would gather with the other panthers for mating season, but he never participated, though his instincts urged him to. His friend never questioned him on it, seeming to understand what was within Ecthelion’s heart already, even for a creature of the forests.

But his blissful time was not to last. On a gentle fall day, he and his friend were stalking through the trees in enjoyment of the day when they stopped as a strange rustling brushed within the trees. Tilting their heads as they listened to the trees speaking, they learned that a large band of Orcs were stalking after a small band of Men, among them were Isildur and his three sons. Stunned and dismayed, Ecthelion raised his head and roared in challenge before looking at his friend. The other panther nodded and roared as well, joined by Ecthelion so that their calls echoed through the forest. Within a few minutes, several of their comrades had arrived, roaring in greeting as they came into the forested pathway. They nuzzled each other in welcome as they arrived, then settled down to await the directions that were to come for such a calling.

Ecthelion also waited, and then blinked in surprise as his friend, who was the relative leader of their spread out group, looked over at him in expectation as he sat lower to Ecthelion. Bowing his head at the honor, Ecthelion returned his gaze to the rest of the group, sensing their acceptance of the change of leadership. He growled and snarled, explaining the situation, then stood and led the way from the forest at a swift pace, followed by his fellows as they journeyed swiftly towards the Gladden Fields, where the forest spoke of the conflict that was sure to come there. The humans were not expecting an attack...they had to hurry!

Yet their pace was not fast enough as they came to the Fields and found that the battle had already nearly finished fatally. With a roar, he led the charge in and they began taking down the foul beasts of Mordor, slashing, ripping, and tearing the rotten flesh as they killed all who attacked the Men of Gondor. He worked through the battling group until he came near the center where a large dense group was working to take down three Men. He snarled in rage as he recognized Isildur and Elendur, with the third Man being Aratan, and attacked fiercely.

But he could not stop the murder of Aratan, who fell while protecting his brother Ciryon’s body from the blood thirsty Orcs. However, he was able to kill off the remaining Orcs that surrounded the other two of Elendil’s line. He stopped, panting as he stalked towards the two, then transformed, smiling in relief through his blood stained state as he saw them smile in joy at him. “Quickly, you must escape!” he whispered gutturally, for he had not spoken in a few years.

He looked around and saw that his friends had survived, though many were hurt. He snarled an order at the panthers, growling when his friend snarled an alarmed reply before kneeling before his friend. He hugged the panther, purring before leaning back and nodding. He received the lick from his friend in farewell before the rest of the group left, leaving just Ecthelion, Isildur, and Elendur. Standing, he faced his human friends and nodded. “There is another group coming this way. My friends will do what they can, but they are injured and will escape to safety. As must you,” he stated quietly as he came over to them, clasping arms with them in greeting.

“But what of you, Ecthelion? Surely you will come with us?” Elendur asked softly as he was held up by his father. He had sustained a stab to the side, but it was fairly shallow and only hindered him slightly.

“Nay, I will return to my fellows, but I came to fulfill my oath to you and your kin,” Ecthelion replied gently as he knelt and checked Elendur’s wound. He tilted his head and looked over his shoulder as the sounds of Orcs fighting floated over towards them. He stood again and stepped away slightly. “You must go now...they will come for you-“ He stopped suddenly and turned back to them, eyes wide with horror as they focused on Isildur. “You did not listen...I told you to destroy it!” he cried, shaking suddenly with sick realization and anger.

Bowing his head in sorrow, Isildur nodded sadly and sighed. “I know you did, my friend. But I could not give it up. I am afraid that it is going to indeed be the death of me,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Father, do not speak so! Put on the Ring and escape while you can! Ecthelion and I shall hold off these Orcs and join you later!” Elendur urged his father as he straightened and stood on his own.

“Nay I could not do that! I will not lose you as I have lost Ciryon and Aratan!” Isildur cried in despair as he held his son to him, shaken by the assuredness that his son spoke to him of their fate.

“If you die, then their deaths were worth nothing. You must take the Ring to Elrond so that it can be made safe!” Elendur replied softly as he hugged his father tightly to him before stepping back. Ecthelion watched them in despair, knowing that what they were doing was indeed the wrong path to take, but he could not stop them. For as in all Men, pride was a downfall.

With a nod, Isildur clasped arms with his son and then Ecthelion before turning just as another group of Orcs straggled into the Fields. He swiftly dodged away as Ecthelion took up a sword and stood alongside Elendur’s side, ready to fight. They fought swiftly and assuredly, yet Elendur was injured and faltered as he grew weary. Ecthelion changed into his panther form and protected him as best he could, but it was a losing battle. Before his own eyes, he could only watch as Elendur was run through by a snarling Orc. He leapt to the attack, ripping the Orc’s head off before finishing off the remaining Orcs. He then ran to Elendur’s side, transforming again as he skidded to a stop near the fallen Man. Kneeling, he gathered the limp body to him as he fought his tears. “Elendur...you can not die...” he whispered tearfully as he brushed his hand over the pale face.

Opening his eyes slowly, Elendur smiled weakly at the Elf as he tried to breathe through the blood filling his lungs. “My...youngest...brother....Valandil...is in...Imladris....” he managed after a bit, his voice husky and rough from his pain. He closed his eyes as he worked for both breath and strength before opening them again to focus on Ecthelion. “We...were...going to...fetch him. He...is...the last...” He gasped for air as he arched slightly in pain, trembling within the Elf Lord’s arms as his hand came up to clasp the strong shoulder under it. “Tell...him that I...wanted...to meet...him...” he whispered before the last of his breath left his body along with his spirit.

“Elendur...” Ecthelion whispered tremulously as he shook the Man before sobbing. “ELENDUR!!” he wailed as he held the fallen Man to him tightly, crying in anguish at the loss of the eldest son of Isildur. He wept quietly as he rocked the corpse before looking over through his tears at the sounds of the arrival of more Orcs, though they sounded to be few in number. With a white rage filling him, he placed the body of his dead friend on the ground and stood, roaring his fury and anguish before transforming and charging at the incoming troops, tearing, slashing, and ripping into them as his grief overcame him.

But his luck could not last against such odds and, as he came to the last ones, he felt a searing pain rip through his shoulders. Reacting, he turned and slashed through the Orc who had thrust the poison covered blade into his back. He finished the last couple of Orcs before collapsing to his side. He transformed and pulled the blade from his shoulders, gasping in pain as he tossed it aside. He struggled to stand, then transformed again and started off away from the fields. He came to the edge of the Anduin and felt his heart clench as he saw the body of Isildur float away, pierced by many arrows. He roared his anguish to the sky as he wept in sorrow before he started away from the river, heading south.

As the day went on, he began to feel weaker as the poison burned through him. He changed into his Elven form and staggered along the edge of the Anduin until he came into sight of a forest. His heart stilled with joy and peace as he sensed the kindred spirits within. He had come to an Elven realm, of that he was certain. But his strength failed him and, on the outskirts of the sanctuary, he collapsed onto the grass, his hand reaching for the safety of the forest as he fell unconscious.

He was woken roughly as he was lifted and groaned deeply as the unexpected movement of his wound shot burning pain through his body. He was shushed with a gentle hand to his face as he was placed onto something that felt like a stretcher before he was lifted again. He opened his eyes weakly and looked around barely, smiling as he saw the gold and silver hair of the Silvan Elves of Lothlórien.  His hand was gathered soothingly into another pair of callused hands and he focused on the warden that came into view. He blinked as he recognized one of his saviors from Mordor. He struggled to remember the name...Halin...Haldo... “Haldir...” he finally managed barely, shaking with his pain and fatigue just from the simple word.

Smiling in relief and greeting, the warden nodded. “You remember me well, Lord Ecthelion. Do not worry...we shall protect you here. You are safe now,” he murmured soothingly as they walked along.

“Safe...safe...” Ecthelion mumbled before falling unconscious yet again, too weak to stay conscious through his pain. The next time he woke he found himself within a bed, dressed in a simple white night shirt as pale sunshine shone onto the bed that he was laying within. He looked around blearily, confused, but soon came eye to eye with a set of gentle blue orbs that watched him with kindness and concern from within the young face of an Elleth, whose silver hair shone in the sunlight around her slender pale frame. He shifted and grimaced in pain as his wound flared up once more, causing him to clutch his shoulder in pain as he cried out.

Moving in instantly, the Elleth was by his side and holding him still. “Hush, hush...you must remain still. You are safe here in Lothlórien, my Lord,” she urged him softly, smiling as he gazed at her with pain-filled blue grey eyes.

“I am no Lord...” he gasped out, biting his lip on his pain as he tried to relax into the soft bedding. He was finally able to calm his flaring nerves and rested in the bed, panting softly in his pain. He opened his weary eyes to focus on her concerned face again, swallowing hard in his fatigue.

“You are Ecthelion. Haldir told us. Your wound is very deep and it was filled with poison. We have summoned Elrond to come and aid us in treating your wound,” she answered him as she took a cool wet cloth and wiped his forehead of the sweat that was beading there.

“Better I die for all I have done,” Ecthelion retorted in a choked voice as he worked to still his trembling. He looked down at the edge of his bed and would have wept if his guilt had not been so smothering. He was finally in an Elven realm, a home to his kin, and yet he now felt a danger and a curse upon the people whom he would call his brethren. His eyes had closed tiredly before he opened them again to look up at the ceiling. He blinked as a soft touch came to his face, turning his face towards the saddened Elleth. “Why do you let me live? I have killed so many...I am a danger to you and all those I was once kin to,” he whispered as sudden tears welled up in his eyes to roll down his face.

She brushed them away tenderly as she smiled gently at him. “It is time that the past be laid to rest and forgiven. Do you not think so?” she asked softly as she tilted her head. He closed his eyes and whimpered, then leaned into her warmth as she hugged him tenderly, soothing away his despair with her gentleness. He relaxed and was eased back onto the pillows, then looked over as another two Elves entered into the room.

The Elleth stood and smiled at the two before looking at Ecthelion. “Ecthelion, these are my parents. Galadriel and Celeborn...they have come to see how you are doing,” she said warmly as a smile dimpled her cheeks.

“Our daughter has not left your side since you arrived to us two days ago so injured. She has learned much from her betrothed, Elrond Eärendilion, in healing and so has tried her best to aid your healing,” Celeborn stated as he came over and sat near the bedded Elf. “How are you feeling, Ecthelion?” he asked softly as his soft blue eyes searched Ecthelion’s own shadowed grey blue.

“Why did you let me live?” Ecthelion responded very quietly instead, avoiding the question put to him. “You know what I am.”

“You were an unwilling servant of Sauron the deceiver, this we know now at Haldir’s allusion from when they saved you from the ruins of Barad-dúr. But you no longer serve him,” Galadriel in turn replied as she stood beside her daughter. She gazed at him kindly, her very aura kind yet powerful.

“You do not know that...I do not even know that. I had thought myself free once before and he returned and made me kill yet again,” Ecthelion said bitterly as he looked away once more, closing his eyes.

“Your pain is our pain, Ecthelion. In time, you will see that your kin have always been ready to aid you from the shadows,” Celeborn stated warmly as he cupped Ecthelion’s hand briefly. He stood as Ecthelion opened his eyes and turned his gaze to him. “Elrond and his party will be here within a few days, for they have hurried as fast as possible once we sent word of your plight. We shall try to ease your suffering as best we can until that time, for Elrond is very skilled in healing,” he explained with an encouraging smile. “Do not give up hope, Lord Ecthelion. We shall always be there to aide you in this time.”

Eyes softening with tears once more, Ecthelion raised his hand and held the hand that clasped it. “My heart is much eased by your words. I thank you for your belief in me and your kindness,” he murmured softly as he searched the kind blue eyes that gazed into his own.

Smiling in response, Celeborn nodded as he squeezed the hand he held gently before releasing it and straightening. He offered his arm to his wife before leaving with her, allowing his daughter to stay with the injured Elf. Ecthelion looked over at the Elleth and murmured, “You have not given me your name.”

“My name is Celebrían,” she answered with a smile as she sat down once more at his side before reaching for the cool cloth to wipe his forehead yet again. She then grabbed a cup and brought it over. “This tea will help ease your pain for now,” she offered him with a smile while helping him to sip the bitter tea.

He made a face, and then smiled weakly as she giggled while she set aside the tea. “You are betrothed to Elrond?” he asked softly and smiled a bit more as she blushed.

“Aye. We met a year ago at a festival to honor the dead from the Last Alliance and we...connected,” she answered, blushing more as he grinned. “He is so kind and gentle...” she whispered shyly.

“And handsome I am sure,” Ecthelion murmured teasingly, chuckling as she blushed even more before he began coughing. She frowned in worry as she helped him to sit up, and then wiped his lips of the blood he had coughed up with a cloth. “The poison is spreading,” he whispered huskily as he relaxed in exhaustion.

“Please hang on, Ecthelion. I know of some who were so worried for you after you left,” she pleaded gently as she wiped his brow yet again before tucking the blanket over his shaking frame.

“I have no one, Celebrían. No one,” Ecthelion murmured bleakly before he fell unconscious yet again from his pain and weariness.

Saddened by his statement, Celebrían brushed a hand over his deathly pale face. “You have someone...I know you do,” she whispered before sitting back to await his return to the waking. She only hoped that she and the others could break through the wall that he had erected around his heart.

TBC