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━━━━»•» act four. age of glory

48.  the bitter truth «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 rohan; edoras

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EVEN BEFORE OPENING HER EYES, ELGARAIN KNEW THE SIGHT THAT WOULD AWAIT HER. She recognised the warm breeze caressing her skin and the sound of faraway waves hitting the shore. As she opened her eyes, golden sunlight greeted her. She lay upon a hill, surrounded by a forest basking in the sun. She was back at the same place where she'd met Gyda in her dreams when she'd been captured by the Uruk-Hai. Only this time, she was alone.

Sitting up straight, she suddenly realised why this place had looked familiar to her the first time she'd come here. It was an exact image of the forest in Lindon, though instead of being back home, it was only a mirror image in the spirit realm. Falmataurë ― the forest of waves was one of her favourite places to visit. Its name came from the trees growing upon many hills, creating a sea of green upon the shores of Harlindon, the southern half of her country.

The first time she visited this place; she'd been in such distress she hadn't even recognised the surroundings. Now, she felt much calmer, even though she probably shouldn't be. Something was very wrong. Her body was slowly being drained from life, and she still had no idea why it was happening or why it was connected to Gyda. It made no sense to be this calm and yet...she felt at peace.

Laying here on the grass, her body was finally free of exhaustion, because it wasn't truly her body. This was the realm of spirits, only her fëa could enter here. Her hröa was still in that feasting hall in Edoras, collapsed upon the ground. Or perhaps they had taken her to another room, Elgarain wasn't sure. She couldn't tell from her place upon the hill.

Slowly she sat up, opening her eyes to enjoy the sight of home. How she missed her country...the roaring waves, the white cliffs and rolling hills. Since setting out from Imladris, she had seen so many new places, many captured upon parchment by her skilled hands. Though none had captured her heart, not like the havens of Lindon had. The longing for home had always burned steadily within her.

If only she could stay here...

"Alas, you cannot, Hínya," a warm voice spoke from behind her.

If her fëa had a beating heart, it might have just stopped then and there. That voice...always ready with a comforting word or a stern speech when needed. It belonged to the person she missed most in all the world. She turned and with a smile as bright as the sun, she let herself fall into his embrace.

"Adar."

"Yes, Calina," he whispered into her hair. "By the grace of the Valar my fëa has been allowed to visit yours."

She looked up at him, into those brown eyes, shining with a love only ever visible on the face of a parent. "If they allowed you to see me..." She could not manage to give words to her fear.

Gil-galad simply smiled. "Let us sit."

And so, they did, father and daughter, upon the green grass of the hill. Many years ago, they had done exactly this, countless times, but those days had passed and Elgarain knew better now than to hope they would return. She had seen too much to believe she could live on as she always had. She would remain hopeful yes, for that was her nature, but if she were to return home it would always be scarred. And somehow, she got a feeling that scar had everything to do with the words that would be said right here, in this moment.

"Am I dying, Adar?" she whispered, feeling as though she was a young Elfling once again. In need of comfort from the person she looked up to most.

He turned his eyes to the west, as if someone was speaking to him from beyond those shores. "Such questions can never be answered with a mere 'yes' or 'no'." Looking back at her, his smile faltered. "It all depends on the choices you make from here on out."

"Doesn't it always," she muttered, realising that even if he did know, he was being prevented from telling her.

A soft laugh fell from his lips, like the chiming of tiny bells, a sound so like her own that it hurt. "Time has not stolen your sharp tongue, Hínya."

"Indeed, it has not, you have the guard you chose for me to thank for that."

Her father did not look the least bit surprised. "Gyldorn will be pleased to hear his daughter's wit has served a purpose."

Elgarain frowned. "So, you cannot see us from the Halls of Mandos?"

His eyes were saddened. "We cannot, we only hear what the Valar deem necessary to tell us."

Perhaps it was childish, but she couldn't help but feel like something had been taken from her. A comfort, the idea of her father's watchful eyes always being with her. It was that feeling that had kept her at peace during many restless nights. To have it ripped from her like this felt as though losing a limb.

"You are wise enough now to stand on your own," Gil-galad said, sensing her thoughts. "You do not need me to watch your every step."

"Need?" She laughed bitterly. "Every child needs their parents."

He placed a hand on her arm. "Bitterness does not suit you."

She looked away from him, feeling a weight in her chest, as if the tears her fëa could not spill were forming a storm inside of her.

"I know the impossible has been asked of you, and you have answered that call the best you possibly could." His voice was soft, laced with concern and warmth. "With all the kindness and grace that befits a Queen. Don't let your grief turn you bitter now."

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it seemed determined to stay there. "I won't," she whispered. "I just miss you, Adar."

He wrapped her in his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I miss you too, Hínya."

Closing her eyes she let herself enjoy the silence and her father's presence beside her. It was more than she could have ever asked for, to simply exist beside him once again. But she knew she could not stay here forever. There was a reason the Valar had allowed them to meet, and she had to use the time they'd been given wisely.

"Why are you here, Adar?" she asked, sitting up straight to look him in the eye. "Why have we been allowed to speak?"

Gil-galad looked at the ring resting on her finger and her heart started racing. "You have been here before, have you not?" He might have worded it as a question, but by his tone she knew it was not.

"I have," she replied.

"When?" Whether he truly didn't know, or only wanted to hear it from her, she didn't know and so, she told him the truth.

"It has always been more of an instinct to draw upon Vilyás power than knowledge. She has guided me into the spirit realm to rescue Gyda when she was dying from poison. Since that moment our fëar seem to somehow be intertwined. We've shared dreams, pain and even our minds." She swallowed her nerves. "In one of those dreams we met here. Only then I didn't yet know it was real. I believed it to be a dream. Until Gyda told me she had the same dream, and I realised we had truly seen each other here."

Gil-galad got to his feet and walked to the edge of the glade, hands on his back as he looked out over the ocean glittering at the far horizon.

Elgarain followed and stood next to him, wishing the silence would feel comfortable once again. Instead, it was now loaded with dread, a heavy weight pressing down upon both of them.

"This burden should never have been yours, but being my daughter, you have inherited it nonetheless." As if knowing it was being mentioned, Vilya glittered softly. He sighed, then shook his head. "When I chose to keep this ring, I knew it would come at a cost. I just never imagined that cost would be you."

"What do you mean?" Elgarain asked, her voice small.

"When the ring came to me, Celebrimbor told me of its powers. He said I would be tested by its uses but that none of those tests would be of the dark. For Sauron had never laid hands on this ring. For the longest time he was not even aware of its existence." He frowned, as if remembering something unpleasant. "Young as I was at the time, I believed it to be a mere warning and paid it no mind."

Elgarain felt a cold chill crawl down her spine.

He straightened his back, the same way he used to brace himself for a wave when standing on the prow of his ship. "Do you know why we call Men 'blessed'?"

She blinked, the change of subject bringing her off balance. "They have the Gift of Iluvatar," she answered. Lord Elrond had made sure she studied the history of Middle-Earth and remembered everything well. "They are mortal and when they die, their fëa passes to unknown places."

"Indeed, and why can we not follow them?" Gil-galad looked at her with a face she knew meant to elaborate her point. She had seen this exact look during many councils. Only then it was pointed at his advisors. This time though, she was the one on the receiving end. It made her feel powerful, knowing he valued her points in a discussion as much as he had valued his trusted advisors.

"Our fëa is tied to Arda, for it remains in the Halls of Mandos," she replied, slowly starting to see where he wanted to lead her. "Sometimes we are even allowed to return, as Lord Glorfindel has."

Gil-galad turned to face her and his eyes shone with an unbearable sadness. "Our fëa is tied," he echoed her words, and their meaning struck within her heart. "Such is the way of the world, Elgarain. The way we have been made. Our fëar need an anchor in order to live."

She raised her hand; eyes locked at the jewel around her finger. "So, when I healed Gyda..."

"Yes, Hínya," his voice started to fade as he spoke. "You have become her anchor."

"Adar!" she tried to reach for him, but the world was starting to blur. The glade faded into blurred colours and the last thing she saw was the loving smile on her father's face.

First everything was black and the only sound she was aware of was her own beating heart. She was alive, at least. Then she felt something soft beneath her, a bed. Slowly the world took shape. There were voices in the distance, a hand was holding hers. She was waking up.

A swivelling of robes, feet pacing the floor. A familiar voice was speaking: "When Elgarain healed you, in her desperation to save you, she unknowingly tied your fates together. The strength that flows in you is not your own."

She blinked, the room was dimly lit, allowing her to slowly take in the sight surrounding her. It was Gandalf who had been pacing while he spoke. Seated on a wooden chair in the far corner was Gimli, hands leaning on his axe as he stared at the ground. Kneeled beside her bed was Legolas, his hand resting on Gyda's arm, who was seated in a chair. There was a weight pressing down the mattress near her legs where Aragorn was sitting on the bed, holding her hand.

"The connection forged by Vilya, something like this has not been heard of for a very long time," Gandalf continued sorrowfully, affirming what her father had been sent to her by the Valar to explain. "Your fëar have been bound in a way."

"Our fëar are bound?" Her voice, though weak, carried the weight of her concern. She tried to sit up and Gyda was beside her within a heartbeat, steadying her shoulders.

"Slowly," she urged as Aragorn joined her. "Don't push yourself."

Elgarain lifted her hand and softly squeezed Gyda's shoulder.

A small smile appeared on her friend's face. "You scared me, nésa."

"Goheno nin," Elgarain whispered. "I did not realise how weak I truly was."

Gyda shook her head. "There's nothing to forgive. I should have seen it."

Elgarain leaned heavily against Aragorn, whose warm presence was the only thing keeping her from breaking down at that very moment. She was glad for Gyda's concern, but there were more pressing matters now. "Our fëar...bound," she repeated, her gaze shifting from Gyda to Gandalf.

Gandalf stepped closer, his expression grave, yet gentle. "Yes, bound," he confirmed. "It is rare, but the power of Vilya has woven a connection between your spirits." His eyes were barely visible beneath his frowning brow. "When you used the ring to heal Gyda, you forged a bond that transcends beyond something I believed was still possible. When you called upon Vilya to save her, your bond deepened, entwining you fëar in a way neither of you could foresee."

Gandalf pushed his robes aside as he sat down in another chair. "Fëafelmë."

The word seemed to hang in the air. She had never heard it before, but its meaning told her everything she needed to know. A feeling of the soul, the impulse to meet with a soul akin to its own. Beautiful in a way, but more dangerous than the sharp edge of a sword.

Gyda swallowed hard, her hands were trembling. "So it is true...Elgarain is—" The word died on her lips, "hurt, because of me."

"No," Elgarain said, shaking her head weakly, "You didn't... you couldn't have known. Besides, it was me who used Vilya." Her gaze softened. "This is not your fault."

"But—"

"There is no fault here," Gandalf interjected, his voice steady and full of wisdom. "What matters is this; the bond cannot remain."

It was Aragorn's calm voice that asked what none of them dared to: "Why not?"

She knew why but could not bring herself to say it.

"The bond was created to allow Gyda to live on Elgarain's life force. Which means keeping the bond is slowly draining Elgarain of life," the Wizard explained slowly.

Gyda shook her head. "No, that cannot happen."

Gandalf looked her in the eye. "Then you must consider this; if you chose to sever the bond, there is no way to know if your fëa will survive on its own. Not after having been bound like this for so long."

A heavy silence fell upon them. Elgarain closed her eyes, wishing she was back within her dream and the comforting presence of her father. Yet, she knew the Valar had only allowed them to speak to warn her. Warn her of the consequences of misusing a power never meant for her to have. The Ñoldor were great craftsmen, but with that gift came hubris, the will to create objects too powerful, too much alike the power of the Valar. It was a curse; one she should have seen coming had she truly paid attention to the history of her ancestors. Instead, she had cursed her friend as well as herself with that very power.

"You must sever the bond." Gyda's voice was grim.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips; all words stuck in her throat.

"Break the bond and set her free," Gyda continued, turning to face Gandalf. "Please."

"All we can do right now—" Gandalf's voice bellowed above their own with a sternness Elgarain barely ever heard from him. "—"is to let Elgarain rest and regain as much strength as possible."

The finality in his tone left no room for protest.

Gyda sank back in her chair, her shoulders curled forward as if something had broken loose inside her chest—something heavy, aching and unrelenting. And Elgarain knew with a deep ache that there was nothing she could do this time to stop her friend from hurting. Because her very own life was the cause for Gyda's suffering.

One by one, the others offered their soft farewells. Elgarain tried to smile for them but knew it must look hollow on her pale face.

Aragorn lingered last—as if hesitant to leave her.

Elgarain took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. "It is alright, please just give me a moment with her."

He bent with care, pressed a kiss to her brow and whispered so softly no one else could hear: "You are worthy of your life, anarinya." Then with a last, quick look, he turned and left.

The silence that followed was enormous.

Gyda sat unmoving, her hands clenched in her lap, the air thick. While Elgarain could barely manage to stay seated. Her entire body felt like a dying candle, flickering against the tiniest gust of wind.

"Tarinya," Gyda began softly, her voice barely more than a whisper, though she was clearly fighting to keep it steady. "I must fulfill my vow to you. The people of Lindon will need you when this war is over. I shall not be the reason you cannot return to your people." Her voice faltered at the end, but the words hung between them, fragile and desperate.

A spark of resistance flared within her exhausted bones, the candle flaring with a last burst of light. "I will not let you choose between me and yourself!"

"You don't understand," Gyda said, her voice tight. "I've sworn an oath to you, to protect you from harm. I cannot break that vow, not now. I cannot stand idly by while I'm the one who's destroying you."

"Stop it!" Her voice grew, her very skin on fire. "Stop this self-sacrificing habit of yours. Do not talk as if your life is not important. I will not allow it."

"Isn't it?" Gyda's voice cracked. "It is what my father would have done for yours."

"I do not care!" Elgarains voice was tense. "You've already given up so much to this vow." The blond ellon who had just left the room flashed through her mind. She would not allow Gyda to give up her life, a life she rightfully deserved.

"I have to do this," Gyda whispered, her voice shaking. Her eyes were looking everywhere but directly her way. "I cannot let you suffer because of me. My duty to you is my burden. It always has been."

Elgarain, weak but persistent, reached out and grasped Gyda's, her touch a lifeline. "Your life is not just a burden," Elgarain said, her voice soft but firm. Exhaustion was pulling at her, threatening to drown her in a much-needed sleep. But she fought to keep her eyes open. This needed to be said. She needed Gyda to understand. "I chose you, Gyda. And I chose to save you. You think I'm weak, that I'm too broken to fight this, but I'm not. I won't stand by and watch you destroy yourself."

"But you are breaking, Elgarain," Gyda said, her voice cracking. "Can't you see? The very bond we share—I am the reason you're fading. I can't let you die because of me."

"Then stop trying to be the martyr!" Elgarain snapped, her grip tightening around Gyda's hand despite her weakening strength. "Stop blaming yourself for every damned thing that happens to me. I chose to save you, just as you've chosen to stand by me. But I won't let you destroy yourself in the process."

Silence crashed into the space between them. A deep quivering stillness. It wasn't peace—it was the eye of the storm. A breath held too long.

A heart that didn't know how to break without falling to pieces.

"Get some rest, tarinya," Gyda said at last.

Then she turned and left the room. 

°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

Hey guys!

Wow, its been a good long while since I've updated this story. But what a chapter to start with! Between me hitting a writers block and Chloe, my writing partner in crime on this fic, going on a roadtrip for a long while, there was just very little time spend on this fic.

But we're back now! And I promise it won't be as long a wait on the next chapter. This one is truly a favorite of mine, as it reveals a lot about what's been happening with El and Gyda. I'm so proud of this arc and very excited to finally share this with you guys!

Please tell me all your thoughts and feelings in the comments. I'd love to hear from you after all this time!

Much love,

Nelly

TRANSLATIONS:

Falmataurë ― Forest of waves

Fëa ― Spirit or soul

Hröa ― Body

Hínya ― My child

Calina ― Bright or sunny 

Adar ― Father

Nésa ― Sister

Fëafelmë ― Spirit-impulse or soul-feeling

Goheno nin ― Forgive me

Anarinya ― My sun

NOTES ON LORE:

Fëa & hröa ― Fëa and hröa (fëar and hröar in plural forms) are Quenya words for "soul" (or "spirit") and "body". According to the Elves, the fëa is powerless without the hröa, and likewise the latter would die without the former.

Calina ― According to Tolkien, Elves have multiple names in their lives. Calina is Elgarain's chilmessë. This is a name that a child would select for themselves, typically inpsired by the child's personality or talent. This was kept private and only used among family and close friends. Calina means bright or sunny.

Fëafelmë ― The soul-feeling or spirit-impulse is a creation of  and me. Do not steal this idea or copy it in any way without consulting either one of us. The name is the one thing we did not come up with ourselves as it was created by Tolkien.