The Lady of The Flame

Chapter Twelve

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

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

Narvana and Glorfindel rode next to each other on the way to Dol Goldur, though they were riding at such fast speeds which made it impossible to talk. But that didn't matter.

Neither of them realised that they had the same affect on the other; but the sight of each warrior elf dressed for battle, secure and comfortable in themselves brought a feeling of security and reassurance to the other. They trusted one another; they trusted one another's skill.

Glorfindel's golden hair too tumbled down his back, golden circlet resting on his head. His chest plate and leg protection too were gold, his tunic and leggings black.

It was clear to see why he was one of the most revered warriors in Middle Earth when he fought, Narvana pondered, for (little did she know, he noted the exact same for her) he held himself with such confidence that it made him almost fearful.

They made it to Dol Goldur quickly, stopping only once for the horse's sake, and only for a small period of time spent in silence before they were off again. All were worried for Gandalf, for it was difficult not to love the grey wizard.

They could see Dol Goldur in the distance, when there was a bright flash of light - Galadriel, clearly.

As they dismounted, hurrying through the abandoned fortress, black speech reverberated off the walls, echoing, the voice sinister and deep.

Spotting Galadriel with Gandalf in her arms, they split up around what looked to be an old courtyard wordlessly, each sucking in a breath as the ghosts of the Nazgûl surrounded the Lady of the Light.

Galadriel shuddered, dropping to the floor as Gandalf stirred.

"You cannot fight the shadow." The voice rumbled.

Narvana took off her cloak, laying it down as she silently unsheathed her sword, spying Glorfindel do the same from opposite her.

It appeared that the enemy had yet to notice them.

"Even now you fade. One light... alone in the darkness."

Galadriel smiled, meeting Narvana's eyes. "I am not alone."

The four took that as their cue to step into the courtyard, standing tall; pillars of light among the dark.

"You should have stayed dead." Her father scoffed, black hair swishing. Narvana couldn't help but chuckle.

They pushed forward as one, and Narvana's silver sword alit with fire, mirroring those in her eyes as she swirled and danced, fending off attacks.

Respective gold, white and black blurs represented Glorfindel, Saruman and Elrond as they also fought.

Swords clashed, the wind whistled and Nazgûl groaned.

In the centre of the old courtyard, Galadriel murmured healing in elvish, desperate for the grey wizard to breathe. "Come back Mithrandir." She kissed his forehead softly.