The Lady of The Flame

Chapter Twenty-Five

"This is speech"
'This is thoughts'
"This is telepathy"
"Sindarin"
"Black speech"

All art belongs to their respective owners, I found them all on Pinterest and claim no ownership over any.

I Héri -o I runya
(The lady of the flame)
Chapter Twenty-Five:

Death was strange.

Not painful, per se, just... strange.

At first, it felt like floating. Floating down an invisible current.

Then, it felt like flying. Soaring through the sky with the wind a refreshing tingle.

After that, there was a sense of lethargy in death. A quiet sort of tiredness and peace - like sunbathing in a meadow in spring.

Finally, the strangeness of floating, the exhilaration of flying, and the warmth of the lethargy bubbled down into pure serenity.

And then he awoke.

At least, that was what happened the first time: he died and awoke in Mandos' halls, grieving and with his mother stroking his hair softly.

The next time, he found himself floating again. Floating down a cool current of water.

Wait, what?

The sensation of a bubbling river was what he knew first; and then he heard it; then he smelt it; and then, he opened his eyes.

"Glorfindel." A voice whispered.

"Laurefindel." Another said.

"Undome." Said the final. He opened his eyes at that.

He was lying on a bed of stones and dirt on the bank of a river under a cloudless sky. Asfaloth nudged him incessantly, the horse whinnying worriedly.

"Asfaloth." Glorfindel murmured through the pounding in his skull.

The horse pawed the ground, before leaning down. With great effort, Glorfindel pulled himself up onto his steed, murmuring his thanks in a combination of Sindarin, Quenya and Westron as the elven horse began moving immediately.

His strength slowly came back to him, and eventually Asfaloth picked up the pace. He couldn't leave the Rohirrim to the fate they were doomed to face; he couldn't leave Narvana to die.

On his wrist, the turquoise stone glowed gently.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

She heard nothing above the pounding in her ears. She heard nothing when Aragorn pulled her away to an emptied hallway, placing his hands on either side of her face as she looked to the wall numbly.

Dead?

"Are you sure?" Narvana whispered harshly, and when Aragorn nodded, eyes glassy, the tears fell in earnest, and she sobbed into his shoulder. The man held onto her tightly, murmuring words into her hair that she didn't catch, and just holding her.