Loosely inspired by this song.
A sequel to this story.
(warning; descriptions of death and violence)
I am standing on the outskirts of a forest; I look up, and the moonlight offers a silver sheen to leaves of gold. Lothlorien - the one place on Arda I have sworn to never step foot again. The grass is soft underneath my boots as I walk along the tree-line; for some reason, I know I cannot cross the borders into the forest. I pause, standing still to a halt; I can hear that there are other footsteps echoing mine. I turn to see a familiar face. A face that rips the very air out of my chest. Mallossel.
“Couldn’t you have kept this all from happening?”
Her voice, the soft way she poses the question - it shakes me. It takes me back years and Ages, when she was the younger sister I minded through our adventures in Gondolin. But that job is no longer mine. Now, everyone is an enemy, and my heart sinks. (I remember briefly shouting at Cardanith, putting all the blame on him for her death).
She takes a step closer, and I take a step back. I hope she doesn’t come closer. It was easier to lock it up, the grief; the hardest thing is never to repent for what I’d done - it is living with the consequences. Of my sister, the specter, the ghost of my dreams. I wince my eyes shut and will the vision away. I should live while she should die - it is cruel and unfair.
I feel cool metal being forced into my hands. I open my eyes to realize I am being handed a sword. My hands grip the hilt instinctively and hold it out with the blade towards her. I am not even allowed a moment to protest ere Mallossel grabs my hands and draws herself onto the sword. My eyes widen in horror, but no blood spills - rather, I see bright red rose petals falling to the ground in layers. It would have been beautiful if it were not such a frightening display.
I am again not given a moment to react before I am torn through by the blade of her halberd; it tears through my armor and my flesh as if they were not even there. I grasp at the wound and find my hand to be covered in blood within seconds. In shock, pained, and uncertain, I reach my hand up to lay against her cheek. The blood smears on her face. She drives the blade deeper and puts her forehead against mine, to speak in a low whisper.
“We were always going to destroy each other.”
I sit up with a loud gasp. My heart is pounding and my chest racing as my lungs attempt to catch up with my panic. I do not even realize yet I am crying as I scramble and scratch at the floor; where did I collapse?
The question is answered for me rather quickly when I feel a pair of arms wrap around me; soothing Sindarin is whispered into my ear as I am hoisted off of the ground. I hear the words “injury” and “fever dream”, and somewhere in there is a chastisement for sleeping on the ground once more instead of going home. I recognize his voice, though little else of what he says to me in my state of duress do I remember. When I sleep next, it is dreamless; and when I awake, I am alone in the bed of the Company house.
