Fic A Day, Day 12 - Into The Storm
Aug. 12th, 2019 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingTitle: Into The Storm
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: The voyage to Aman has not gone at all as Elladan had hoped.
Word Count: 1150
Elladan looked at the threatening skies ahead with trepidation.
Their voyage to Aman has been anything but smooth. He and Elrohir had hoped the passage would be swift, for the faster they reached the West, the faster there might be help for their little sister.
Instead, much to their horror it had taken several days just to find the Straight Road. Worse still, once they had, every elf on board could feel that some malevolent will set itself against their ship – and against the will of the Lord of the Waters, who wished them good speed nearly as much as they did themselves. Uinen had reassured them on that point not long after they found the Road.
Celeborn and even Cirdan have grown increasingly anxious as the weeks wore on. While they initially tried to conceal their worry, Elladan was not a child and hadn’t been since the early Third Age. He could see the tension in the set of his grandfather’s jaw and Cirdan’s taut posture. Elrohir’s disquiet had been a mirror of his own.
It also had been impossible to ignore the presence of their other grandfather – Eärendil was visible in the sky night and day, a furious red beacon lighting their way. If they couldn’t see him at the moment, it was only because the dark clouds rapidly filling the western horizon were blotting him out.
The gathering storm before them was anything but encouraging, all the less so coming as it did hard on the heels of the only sign they’ve had that whatever was happening to her, Anariel was fighting it fiercely. They could only hope she was showing her enemy why she’d earned the name Slayer.
The piercing headache from her yelling at the top of her mental ‘lungs’ was only just beginning to subside. She had been loud enough – and angry enough – that Grandfather had actually lost consciousness. (He’d been unlucky enough to be standing right next to her at the time, not that Elladan thought that any distance they could achieve on board the Windsong was much protection against his sister’s shout.)
Elladan realized he was not the only one dubious about their current course, which took them straight into the worst of it. The towering clouds were growing by the second, and even at this distance, he could feel the breeze rapidly picking up.
Thranduil was also eying the sea ahead of them with doubt written all over his face.
“Cirdan, are you sure of your course?” he called, already needing to raise his voice to be heard over the crash of the waves roiling around them. “This takes us directly into the teeth of the storm!”
“We have no other choice!” the mariner replied grimly. “This is the Road, and if you wish to reach Elvenhome, this is the way we must go. There is no turning back now.”
Thranduil looked from Cirdan to what was now the largest storm Elladan had ever seen. He wondered if it was comparable to what had been seen in the last days of the War of Wrath, or the drowning of Numenor.
“And if we die trying?” Thranduil muttered.
Then I suppose we reach Aman by a different route, Elrohir said sardonically to his twin.
It would be frustrating, and their parents would be terribly upset, but if it would mean his sister was safe… not even Morgoth could violate Mandos.
The waves were rapidly growing from elf height to tree height and beyond. Lightning crackled across the dark clouds. The boom of thunder accompanying it betrayed that these were no distant bolts, but near at hand and dangerous.
The waves were mostly missing the ship, but the few that did break against them were enough to knock even a full-grown elf flat. Elladan also wasn’t entirely happy at the way the ship would plummet between waves.
“Grab hold of something!” Celeborn ordered, speaking to everyone on deck save Cirdan, who didn’t need to be told. “It won’t improve matters to have one of you swept overboard!”
There was sense in that, and Elladan grabbed the nearest rope, bracing against the next wall of water. He could see his brother doing the same.
Anariel did not so much as twitch. She was as motionless and reactionless as she has been since Celeborn and Thranduil had first laid her down.
Elladan and Elrohir yelled as one when lightning shot out of the sky to hit the deck near their sister – and reached for their weapons when it solidified into elven form.
“Boys, I suggest you not assault Manwë’s herald,” Celeborn said from behind them.
Under other circumstances, his words might have been laced with humor. But there was no trace of levity in their grandfather’s voice. How he’d managed to keep his feet, never mind move from back by Cirdan to join them amidships, was beyond Elladan.
The next wave that broke over the ship dumped a considerable amount of water onto the deck, and that too resolved into the shape of an elf.
“Lady Uinen,” Celeborn acknowledged her. “I trust you will not take offense when I say Cirdan is busy enough that he cannot spare you any time at the moment?”
“Let him look to the ship,” Uinen replied. “We are here for the girl.”
Elladan raised an eyebrow as the unlikely duo converged on his sister.
The wind was howling now, and between that and the waves, Elladan would have covered his ears for what good it might do – had he not needed his hands to help keep him upright. If he let go of his rope, he suspected he’d be lucky if being thrown around the deck was all that happened to him.
Suddenly Anariel, who hadn’t moved in weeks, sat straight up.
Her eyes were open, but Elladan was certain that whatever she was seeing, it wasn’t them, the ship, or the storm.
“We are with you, young one,” Eönwë said in a voice that rang like a trumpet.
GO BACK TO THE VOID.
Anariel spoke with voice as well as mind, and both seemed to come from the depths of the ocean.
Elladan felt the power that accompanied those words, the absolute determination behind them.
The storm rose to a furious crescendo –
And abruptly they were in calm waters. There were still clouds overhead, but the rain falling was gentle, and the wind was subsiding to a refreshing sea breeze.
Anariel pitched forward, but Uinen and Eönwë caught her, bracing her from either side.
“I win.”
Her voice was her own, but barely more than a whisper, raspy and exhausted.
Her eyes were open, for the first time since Arwen’s death. They were out of focus and betrayed that she had been pushed to her uttermost limit. But she was alive.
His little sister had survived.
It felt like the first time in months that Elladan could breathe.
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: The voyage to Aman has not gone at all as Elladan had hoped.
Word Count: 1150
Elladan looked at the threatening skies ahead with trepidation.
Their voyage to Aman has been anything but smooth. He and Elrohir had hoped the passage would be swift, for the faster they reached the West, the faster there might be help for their little sister.
Instead, much to their horror it had taken several days just to find the Straight Road. Worse still, once they had, every elf on board could feel that some malevolent will set itself against their ship – and against the will of the Lord of the Waters, who wished them good speed nearly as much as they did themselves. Uinen had reassured them on that point not long after they found the Road.
Celeborn and even Cirdan have grown increasingly anxious as the weeks wore on. While they initially tried to conceal their worry, Elladan was not a child and hadn’t been since the early Third Age. He could see the tension in the set of his grandfather’s jaw and Cirdan’s taut posture. Elrohir’s disquiet had been a mirror of his own.
It also had been impossible to ignore the presence of their other grandfather – Eärendil was visible in the sky night and day, a furious red beacon lighting their way. If they couldn’t see him at the moment, it was only because the dark clouds rapidly filling the western horizon were blotting him out.
The gathering storm before them was anything but encouraging, all the less so coming as it did hard on the heels of the only sign they’ve had that whatever was happening to her, Anariel was fighting it fiercely. They could only hope she was showing her enemy why she’d earned the name Slayer.
The piercing headache from her yelling at the top of her mental ‘lungs’ was only just beginning to subside. She had been loud enough – and angry enough – that Grandfather had actually lost consciousness. (He’d been unlucky enough to be standing right next to her at the time, not that Elladan thought that any distance they could achieve on board the Windsong was much protection against his sister’s shout.)
Elladan realized he was not the only one dubious about their current course, which took them straight into the worst of it. The towering clouds were growing by the second, and even at this distance, he could feel the breeze rapidly picking up.
Thranduil was also eying the sea ahead of them with doubt written all over his face.
“Cirdan, are you sure of your course?” he called, already needing to raise his voice to be heard over the crash of the waves roiling around them. “This takes us directly into the teeth of the storm!”
“We have no other choice!” the mariner replied grimly. “This is the Road, and if you wish to reach Elvenhome, this is the way we must go. There is no turning back now.”
Thranduil looked from Cirdan to what was now the largest storm Elladan had ever seen. He wondered if it was comparable to what had been seen in the last days of the War of Wrath, or the drowning of Numenor.
“And if we die trying?” Thranduil muttered.
Then I suppose we reach Aman by a different route, Elrohir said sardonically to his twin.
It would be frustrating, and their parents would be terribly upset, but if it would mean his sister was safe… not even Morgoth could violate Mandos.
The waves were rapidly growing from elf height to tree height and beyond. Lightning crackled across the dark clouds. The boom of thunder accompanying it betrayed that these were no distant bolts, but near at hand and dangerous.
The waves were mostly missing the ship, but the few that did break against them were enough to knock even a full-grown elf flat. Elladan also wasn’t entirely happy at the way the ship would plummet between waves.
“Grab hold of something!” Celeborn ordered, speaking to everyone on deck save Cirdan, who didn’t need to be told. “It won’t improve matters to have one of you swept overboard!”
There was sense in that, and Elladan grabbed the nearest rope, bracing against the next wall of water. He could see his brother doing the same.
Anariel did not so much as twitch. She was as motionless and reactionless as she has been since Celeborn and Thranduil had first laid her down.
Elladan and Elrohir yelled as one when lightning shot out of the sky to hit the deck near their sister – and reached for their weapons when it solidified into elven form.
“Boys, I suggest you not assault Manwë’s herald,” Celeborn said from behind them.
Under other circumstances, his words might have been laced with humor. But there was no trace of levity in their grandfather’s voice. How he’d managed to keep his feet, never mind move from back by Cirdan to join them amidships, was beyond Elladan.
The next wave that broke over the ship dumped a considerable amount of water onto the deck, and that too resolved into the shape of an elf.
“Lady Uinen,” Celeborn acknowledged her. “I trust you will not take offense when I say Cirdan is busy enough that he cannot spare you any time at the moment?”
“Let him look to the ship,” Uinen replied. “We are here for the girl.”
Elladan raised an eyebrow as the unlikely duo converged on his sister.
The wind was howling now, and between that and the waves, Elladan would have covered his ears for what good it might do – had he not needed his hands to help keep him upright. If he let go of his rope, he suspected he’d be lucky if being thrown around the deck was all that happened to him.
Suddenly Anariel, who hadn’t moved in weeks, sat straight up.
Her eyes were open, but Elladan was certain that whatever she was seeing, it wasn’t them, the ship, or the storm.
“We are with you, young one,” Eönwë said in a voice that rang like a trumpet.
GO BACK TO THE VOID.
Anariel spoke with voice as well as mind, and both seemed to come from the depths of the ocean.
Elladan felt the power that accompanied those words, the absolute determination behind them.
The storm rose to a furious crescendo –
And abruptly they were in calm waters. There were still clouds overhead, but the rain falling was gentle, and the wind was subsiding to a refreshing sea breeze.
Anariel pitched forward, but Uinen and Eönwë caught her, bracing her from either side.
“I win.”
Her voice was her own, but barely more than a whisper, raspy and exhausted.
Her eyes were open, for the first time since Arwen’s death. They were out of focus and betrayed that she had been pushed to her uttermost limit. But she was alive.
His little sister had survived.
It felt like the first time in months that Elladan could breathe.
