Asgarnen: Fanfiction by Nieriel Raina

Pierced


Pierced
By Nieriel Raina


It had been four days, but he could still feel the sting. The injury was superficial, and yet, deep. The blade had only nicked him, but the words had cut him deeply. He had shed only drops of crimson; the wound to his heart had not been allowed to bleed.


With a sigh, Elrond glanced at the cut. It should be healed by now, but the internal wound kept the physical one from closing. Wrapping a clean bandage around the shallow gash, he let the memory drive the blade deeper into his heart.


Blades flashed. Feet shuffled. Steel clashed against steel. Grey eyes glowed with anger; matching grey eyes clouded with grief. He had failed. Elrond knew that. And in more ways than one, he conceded to himself. He had not just lost his beloved wife, but his sons as well.


Elladan spun, parried and struck wildly. His grief fueled his anger, which in turn fueled his movements. Elrond countered each blow, but his own heavy heart slowed his once fleet feet, and dulled his once lightning-quick reflexes.


Knowing it must end before one of them was injured, he reached out in the only way he could. “Elladan, I tried…”


“You did nothing! You could have saved her!” Their blades clashed together as the words poured like venom from his son’s lips. “She should not have been allowed to go! You knew the path was dangerous!”


Elrond blocked, but each utterance pierced his already wounded spirit. “I had no knowledge of what would come about! I would never…”


“You. Let. Her. Be. Taken!”


In those words he heard the truth. He had let her be taken from his sons. He had not fought Celebrían’s desire to sail and find peace. How could he? He had healed her body, done all he could to heal her spirit. But the damage had been done, and no amount of love could heal a soul so wounded. He had seen it before, too many times. Healing would only be found in the West.


And so he had carried her up the ramp, set her on the ship, and walked back onto the shore only half of himself. Elladan could not understand this.


“I did what I must, my son.”


Their blades struck, slipped, and steel sliced into his skin. The crimson flow dripped to the ground even as the final words spewed from Elladan’s lips and pierced him to the core.


“I hate you!”


The words were a pain-filled whisper.


He had not seen his son since. Elrohir had come, had looked at him with knowing eyes. His youngest son did not accuse him. Elrohir simply hurt without seeking to place blame.


“Give him time, Adar,” he had said as he sat next to him on the secluded garden bench.


So, Elrond had not sought out his eldest, and four days has passed. Four days of pain, and not just the throbbing in his flesh.


“Adar?”


The soft voice drew his eyes from the bandage on his arm. Mournful grey eyes met his gaze. And then his son was trembling on his knees before him, fists clenched in his robes. “Forgive me, Adar!”


Elrond knelt and took his son into his arms, rocking him as he would a small child. Sobs wracked the body he held - the frame of a warrior, not a youngster. “It is alright, my son. Let it out. Do not hold this bitterness inside.”


“I hate it! I hate what they did! I hate them!


Elrond knew how Elladan felt. He also hated what had been done to his family by the evil slowly growing in the lands once more. “I know. I hate it as well.”


Grief-stricken eyes sought his own. “I do not hate you, Adar. I know you did all you could. I am just angry, so angry at what was stolen from us.”


The words were as a balm, a healing ointment applied to the wounds in his soul. But to truly heal, more would be required. He felt the wound begin to trickle tears down his cheeks as he allowed the blade to be withdrawn. “I forgive you, Elladan. I know you did not mean what you said. I love you. And I love your Naneth. I would have done anything to have kept her with us.”


Finally, the pain subsided to a dull ache, even as his son laid his head against his chest. “I know, Adar. I love you as well.”


A long road lay before them with many choices to be made by them all. Only time would heal them - time and love. But they would survive this and grow stronger. If there was anything Elrond had learned over the course of his long life it was this: Wounds that did not kill you made you stronger. And healing could always be found in the love of family and friends.

end

Make a Free Website with Yola.