The Barren Throne
And she might have told him the same thing if he hadn't the temerity to just drink out of the fountain - instead her hands reached out for him as he fell backwards, grabbing him for that brief nanosecond before the sheer weight of the man tore himself from her fingertips, jerking herself away from the wall and onto the floor beside him.
Elemmire had expected fire and brimstone - holy by nature, to descent on them as per the stories told to her as a young acolyte but so far, the entire journey had been nothing but a joke and even divine comedy of sorts - which she half suspected if the Gods were indeed laughing at the duo for all the precautions they had taken.
On the ground for a moment, all she could hear was her own rapid and shallow breathing before it was interrupted by the incessant sound of water beating on the marble basin. Her eyes slowly moved around the room and before she knew it, the elf was standing before the mythical fountain numbly by herself as the water chimed in a melodious pattern akin children singing a rhyme.
How much did she want this? To live?
She who could not even acknowledge the slow circling of drain of the curse to Skandra earlier. She who in many ways, seen too much, heard too much, done too much - was she also too far removed from any ecclesiastical power's aid? And she, who never quite believed too much in anything.
Elemmire thought she saw something as she inched closer to the water. What did she have to lose, the elf wondered to herself as she stared at the frightening apparition in the water, nothing. To be struck down now would be more of a release than torture.
I'm sorry. She heard herself whisper as her hands plunged into the fountain, cupping and she leaning in to drink deeply from her hands like child.
At first, she felt nothing but the coldness of the water that quenched her thirst like any other drink would. Upon the realization that nothing had happened, a wide smile of relief cracked on her lips as she took a step back. Elemmire wanted to turn, wake Skandra and get out of her but as she did, her legs seemed to stop responding to her will and instead, sent her tumbling onto the floor, next to the immortal. The sound of her hand smacking on the floor was all she heard before darkness enveloped her.
And it all happened again. She feel free the winds buffeting against her as she stood close to her mother, watching as the rays of sunlight dance off her father's armour and Ilereon's standard before the last charge. Except this time it happened so much slower that she could only watch as the first orcs break through the line, pulling her father from his warhorse, onto the ground and the spurt of crimson blood erupting in the air as the orcs bit into his neck. She wanted to shield her own eyes or cast a spell but felt herself kept immobile within the body of the girl child by an unknown force, as though it meant her to relive it all again as the others fell with him before her eyes.
That's where everything started.
Elemmire thought she heard another voice with her as the scene receded. When she opened her eyes again, she was greeted by scenes of fire and warfare. A group of women and children trapped in a burning keep - which was only too real for her as she watched the scene again. Elemmire would have drawn a ragged breath or tried to make it stop if she could but to no avail.
The frightened cries of the people, the handling of children over wars in desperate hope of survival was all too familiar to her. She could only numbly watch as a dark haired woman press a girl into the arms of another before the ceiling of the keep fell in on the trapped mothers. The screams, the sensation of her mother's arms leaving her and then the smell of burning flesh were not something she ever let herself forget.
Why do you make yourself so?
When she opened her eyes next,the scenes of her history seemed to speed up around her as ghostly figures of her former companions flicker by, walking through her unseeingly.
And what would you have been, if not for these events and people?
"I don't know." She whispered with her head bowed, her voice weighed with grief and at the same time, confused by the familiarity of the voice speaking to her.
"No, you don't."
Elemmire opened her eyes, meeting a pair of kindly but wise blue eyes which belong to an elven man with hair greying at the temples. The man cupped his hand underneath her chin as he spoke, raising her chin and looking straight at her as she clamoured for a name to match - th etouch, the gaze, the voice .... "Whether you like it or not, there are alot of things you don't know and can't know." He reached out, took her hand before helping her up as she noticed that they were now in a room atop a tower that overlooked an abandoned city.
"You may think that they all abandoned you and likewise so should you of them." He interrupted her thoughts as he took her hand in his, "And you think by distancing them or disregarding them, you would no longer have to play in their games and lives." His hands wrapped around hers together, "But you are wrong."
"Who are --" Elemmire tried to pull her hand away from him only to find herself rooted to the ground and to her dismay, finding his words hodling her attention gainst her will.
"There are those who seem much more important and prevalent, only because their destinies are so pronounced for all to see - like Aeotha & Leirounouth. However, what is not often mentioned are those whose lives are often overshadowed by the acts they done to break the rules but nevertheless, their destinies are in no way, any less glorious tha nthose of the ordained, even in Lorien's eyes."
She felt his eyes pierce through hers, addressing the issues that she had often questioned and his words spill over her even as she fought to move away.
"And for these, the perils and adventures are no less than what they can bear."
"I don't understan--"
"You do, Alatariel" Her name rolled off his tongue so easily. Elemmire thought hshe finally had a name for him but that too disappeared as the last vowel faded in the air.
"There's a place for them as well" The man said as he took her arm and guided her out of the room into a glade drenched in moonlight, where a single throne, bereft of all heraldry, stood in the centre.
"And there's a time where they have to acknowledge their place - by the side of the ordained or otherwise." The man released her hand and looked to the throne, "Take you place, Alatariel." Elemmire paused for a moment before moving through the undergrowth towards the vacant throne. "Will you not ..." Elemmire asked as she paused for a moment to look back,
"I cannot go where you have to be."
She paused before climbing onto the dais easily and saw a circlet resting on the seat of the throne. Picking it up nervously, she held it slowly as she spoke aloud, "My mother wore one like this." as she slipped it on, allowing it to fall neatly atop of her brow before turning to look back at her companion.
At this moment, Elemmire suddenly felt a searing pain erupting from her body as though someone had just run her through with a massive spear and sent her crumbling onto the ground with the circlet falling off like a toy. She glanced down only to see the black veins bursting into the surface as she tasted a mix of blood and foulness in her mouth.
Did you honestly think I would relinquish my prize that easily? An eerie voice spoke out of Elemmire's lips and in her oice, carrying overtone of what Elemmire instantly recognized of the wraith of Ellecdral. Her eyes widened as Elemmire fought to breath, expelling the mix of blood and other liquid from the side of her mouth.
"You have no place here on these sanctified ground, Witch of Ellecdral." Despite of her pain and growing delirium, Elemmire heard her companion speak from a distance though it was growing hard for her to see his figure and his voice seemed to change to be a mix of what she remembered and a female voice.
Then neither has she.
"Despite all those she says, Alatatriel still follows my path - I will not allow you to take her."
Allow me? The witch of Ellecdral heaving a gasping laugh, forcing Elemmire to spit out more of the foul bile.
Allow me? I guess you have forgotten what you paid as consequences for the last battle.
The elf found herself clambering on the floor and looking out to her companion, driven conscious by the pain for that one moment and remembering nearly everything - the fountain, Ellecdral, the slow circling. "Make it stop, " She whispered, shutting her eyes, "Beren."
At the mention of his name, Beren was struck dumb by her words but readily composed himself. In his own voice, he spoke again - to her rather than at her, "I cannot."
I need you. The female voice was the last thing she heard as a blue light consumed her being followed by an explosion of pain that tore her apart where the screaming started and never stopped.