The Nights Your Heart Shivers by StarSpray

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Chapter 2

This chapter hits the Crackuary bingo square "Rap or Song Battles"

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Daeron was not quite what Eluréd had expected. All the tales had painted a picture of a lonely and melancholy singer with long dark hair and sad eyes, somewhere in the shade of the trees, perhaps by a mere or a stream, playing that famous 'music for the breaking of the heart.' But in reality, though there were plenty of trees for shade and a clear stream running through the glade that Daeron called home, there was very little darkness or melancholy at all. Daeron was serious, but Eluréd thought that was only because of the news Nellas and Elurín had told him about the wraiths. And he did not seem particularly bothered by Eluréd and Elurín's presence, though they were the grandchildren of Beren and Lúthien.

But after Eluréd was awake and recovering from whatever spells the wraiths had laid on him, the talk turned to why Nellas and Eluréd and Elurín were in that part of the world in the first place. "Looking for me?" Daeron repeated after the tale was told. "I'm not sure if I am flattered or a bit insulted that you only thought of it after you found Maglor Fëanorion."

"Well, we weren't looking for him," said Elurín as he sorted through a small pile of fallen branches he had picked up, before choosing one to whittle at.

"And I have been wondering where you had got to," said Nellas. She sat cross-legged among the ferns; if they were not all sitting close together she would have been nearly invisible among them, like a fawn lying very still. "Have you been hiding here in Fangorn this whole time?"

"No," Daeron laughed. "I got hopelessly turned around when I tried to follow Lúthien—it was the Girdle, I think—and I found myself going east instead of north. And then I thought—well, that's not important. I decided to just keep going. Maybe I would even make it so far as Cuiviénen. I didn't, of course, but I went quite far into the east and spent time with the Avari there. There are mighty singers there, and I learned much. I daresay some of them could out-sing even Maglor."

"You could out-sing Maglor," said Nellas.

"It's in all the tales," agreed Eluréd. He lay on his back, basking in the sun and relishing the feeling of warmth. Daeron made a dubious-sounding noise. "You could sing us something and we could compare," Eluréd added. "We had Maglor sing for us on Tol Himling. It was very impressive."

"What did he sing?" Daeron asked.

"A song out of Valinor," said Elurín. "He said it was written by Elemmírë of the Vanyar."

"Very impressive," Eluréd repeated. He closed his eyes, listening to the quiet scrape of Elurín's knife over the wood, and the rustle of the breeze in the trees and through the ferns and grass.

"Perhaps I will sing for you," said Daeron. He sounded amused, but only for a moment before growing serious again. "I am more worried about those creatures you encountered by the river. You are not their first victim, it seems."

"No," said Nellas. "There are tales of fear among the woodmen, and even the Entwives are worried. We were coming to Fangorn to ask the Ents if they had seen you—we did not actually think to find you here—but I was hoping also they might know more than Fimbrethil about what these things are."

"I don't think they do," said Daeron. "Wraiths like those are not the province of Ents and it is doubtful they will attempt to do anything to the forest."

"No," Nellas said, "there are orcs for that. The best thing is to return to Lórinand or to Imladris—or both places—to warn Galadriel and Celeborn and Elrond about it. And Gil-galad, of course, but Elrond can send a messenger from Imladris. Whatever they are, they are a new creature of the Enemy's. There can be no doubt about that."
Daeron's voice was wry when he said, "And I suppose you want me to come back to Lórinand and Imladris with you?"

"Only if you want to," said Nellas. "But you are missed, you know. Not only because you are a great singer and loremaster."

"Thank you, Nellas. Maybe I will come. But first I would know more of these creatures."

"How are you going to do that?" Elurín asked.

"I am going to find one. Don't look at me like that, Nellas. I know what to expect, thanks to you. I will not be taken by surprise as you were—and if I can out-sing Maglor Fëanorion as you claim, I can certainly hold my own against a wraith."

"There isn't only one, though," said Elurín. "There were—how many, Eluréd?"

"Two that I saw," said Elurín, and he described what he had glimpsed—figures of old men with crowns on their heads and tattered robes, shrunken and skeletal. He shivered, even in the warm sun. Briefly, Elurín rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I can hold my own against two wraiths," said Daeron. "Perhaps more."

"I will go with you, then," said Nellas. "You will need someone to watch your back. There aren't only wraiths out there."

"We will come to," said Eluréd, opening his eyes and sitting up. Daeron had risen to his feet, a dark shape against the bright sky when Eluréd looked up at him.

"Absolutely not," Nellas began.

"There's no point in running away," said Elurín. "If these are the Enemy's new weapon we will meet them again. I would rather we do it on our own terms." Eluréd nodded. "Besides, we have power of our own."

"Clumsy as you are with it," Daeron said.

"Then you can teach us!" Eluréd said. "Who better?"

Daeron laughed. It was a bright sound like a burst of birdsong on a spring morning. "Very well! I will teach you. It is the least I can do, for Lúthien's sake."

They did not leave the glade or the forest immediately. Eluréd still needed some time to recover his strength. Nights were the worst, especially when clouds covered the stars or the moon. It was infuriating—the darkness and the shadows had never before held any terror for him. He had wrapped himself up in them like Lúthien's shadow-cloak from the songs, and he had felt safe. But now every shadow seemed to hold something sinister, something cold, and there was whispering all through his dreams that had him waking many times at night, trembling and freezing from the sweat cooling on his skin.

Elurín woke each time Eluréd did. He wrapped his arms around Eluréd and they lay curled up together, as they had when they were children, until Eluréd stopped shaking. "We don't have to go hunting these things," Elurín whispered. "We can go back to Imladris."

"No," Eluréd whispered back. "I will conquer this—or else I shall fear the night for ever. Sauron shall not win this battle."

In daylight Daeron sat them down to teach them. Nellas had taught them a great deal, and they had learned also from Goldberry and Iarwain, and from their own experience. It had been enough to get by, but Daeron despaired of their musical knowledge, and Nellas had to leave so that she did not distract them by bursting into laughter every time Daeron glared at her for neglecting some point or other. And when he found out they were barely literate Daeron had to bury his face in his hands for several minutes.

"Well, that's not entirely true," Elurín protested. "We can read runes just fine."

"If it's just directions on a stone or something," said Eluréd. "They're much easier than the tengwar."

"We haven't had much use for writing long letters," said Elurín. "Or reading them."

The nights were growing cool with the coming autumn by the time they departed Fangorn. They met the old Ent himself, going in the same direction with the intention of visiting Fimbrethil and the Entwives. He seemed troubled at the news of the strange wraiths lurking by the river, but had no insights. The Ents were not often taken into account by the Enemy, and they liked it that way. It was trouble for Elves and Men, he said, in his slow ponderous voice. But he wished them luck when they parted, he to go to the north and they to the south and east. It was impossible to know where they might find the wraiths. Nellas said flatly that if they had fled all the way back to Mordor she was going to drag Daeron to Imladris by his ear, rather than let him follow. Elurín heartily agreed.

"Of course I'm not going to go all the way to Mordor," said Daeron with a roll of his eyes.

"You were prepared to go all the way to Angband," Nellas replied. "Remember?"

"I like to think I have grown out of such follies."

In the end they did not have to worry about even coming within sight of Mordor. On an evening as they approached the place where the Limlight met the Anduin the wind changed to the east, and Eluréd shivered. "I think they are close," he said. Elurín moved closer to him. "On this side of the river."

Daeron looked at him, and Nellas said, "Then we'll make camp here. It's as good a place as any." They picked a spot near the water, the sound of its rushing a comfort in the silence that fell with the evening. If any animals had been around, they fled at the coming of the wraiths. Not even an owl or a bad passed by over their heads. Eluréd and Elurín gathered firewood quickly, and Nellas caught a couple of fish from the river, while Daeron laid out the camp. He sang as he did so, a quiet song of Doriath, of starlight on the enchanted waters of the Esgalduin and niphredil blooming on its banks. It was a comforting song, and Eluréd sat down to get the fire started feeling less cold and less afraid.

It did not last long. As the night grew darker, and they finished their meal, Eluréd could feel the creeping dread of the wraiths. They were not moving quickly, instead hanging back and waiting for the dread of their presence to—what? Paralyze their victims with terror? Eluréd sat hunched by the fire, with Nellas on one side and Elurín standing on the other, scanning the darkness.

"There," he said finally, gazing into the dark downstream. "There are three this time." His voice did not shake, but his hands were balled into white-knuckled fists.

Daeron also rose to his feet. His eyes shone with ancient starlight as he opened his mouth and began to sing—it was a song of light and life and truth and strength, of revealing secrets and opening eyes that were closed. Eluréd and Nellas also rose, Nellas gripping Eluréd's hand tightly.

While Daeron was singing Eluréd felt lighter and less afraid. But the moment Daeron paused for a breath a reply came like the shrieking wind of a gale, with ugly words of dread and fear and impenetrable darkness. Eluréd could not swallow a cry as he dropped to the ground again, arms going up and around his head. Elurín crouched beside him, stance protective, though he was shaking also.

Daeron began singing again before the wraith ceased and his voice was louder and stronger, with power to shake the ground beneath them or call up a flood from the river if he so chose—and he was letting the wraiths know, telling them and their master in Mordor that a mighty singer of the Eldar still walked the earth, who had known Middle-earth before the Moon and the Sun and who feared not a mere lieutenant of Morgoth. Over their heads the stars blazed. In the east Gil-Estel flashed as though in response, as the moon began to rise over the eastern horizon.

And then Elurín sprang to his feet and joined his voice with Daeron's, weaving shadows through the starlight to reclaim them from the wraiths, stripping them of the power they held over dark places, an echo of the power of Melian that had guarded Doriath for so long.

With one last shriek the wraiths faltered and fled, vanishing into the night and taking the chill of their presence with them. Daeron remained where he was for several minutes, gazing after them, breathing as heavily as though he had run a very long distance. "Thank you," he said finally to Elurín. "They have greater power than I would have expected."

"I don't think you needed the help," Elurín replied. "I just wanted to remind Sauron that the blood of Lúthien still walks the earth."

"Did you learn what you needed?" Eluréd asked once he found his voice again.

"Yes," said Daeron, slowly, as he sat down again by the fire. Nellas added more wood to it, sending sparks swirling up with the smoke. "There are nine of them, I think. They were once Men—kings of Men, leaders in Númenor and elsewhere. But I do not understand where rings come into it."

"Rings?" Nellas, Eluréd, and Elurín chorused.

"Nine for Mortal Men, doomed to die," said Elurín. "So that is what became of them."

Daeron looked baffled at this, and so they had to explain the tale of the war that had destroyed Eregion and laid waste to much of Eriador. Daeron had heard of that, of course, but he had not been in the right part of the world to hear tales of its cause, or of what Sauron had been doing before he revealed himself. "Then what has become of the other rings?" he asked when the tale was done. "The seven for the Dwarves, and the three of the Elves?"

"The Three were never touched by Sauron," said Nellas. "Celebrimbor made them alone—but it was with the knowledge he had gained from Sauron, and so they would fall under the sway of the One if they were used. No one knows what exactly that would mean. All that I know is that they are safe. Perhaps they are in Lindon—that's where I would have sent them. I don't know. At least several of the Dwarven rings were given away to their intended bearers, but it is possible that Sauron recovered others. Until now I don't think anyone has known what became of the Nine. Or at least there have been no rumors."

They left their little camp early in the morning, before the sun rose. Eluréd did not look back toward the river. He would be glad to have the Misty Mountains between them and Mordor again. He did not regret accompanying Daeron, but it had not done as much as he had hoped to conquer the fear that had lodged in his heart like an arrow. Elrond's secluded and safe valley would do more for that, he hoped.

"What are you gong to do after we deliver this news, Daeron?" Elurín asked a few days later, as they camped just within sight of the forest of Lórinand. In the far distance Eluréd thought he could hear the singing of elves. It sounded like a merry song, and his heart lifted to hear it.

"I don't know," said Daeron. "I was thinking of leaving that little glade, anyway. I am interested to see Imladris, and Lindon, and to meet old friends if they are still on this side of the Sea. But what I shall do then, I don't know. I have long been out of the habit of making definite plans."

Nellas laughed. "Eluréd and Elurín have never been in that habit at all," she said. "But I have an idea for your next journey, after our errand is done. There is a part of Ossiriand, south of the Gulf of Lhûn, that Men refuse to travel near, and that Elves do so only rarely. I have been only once, long ago. I think all three of you should go there too."

"What place is this?" Elurín asked. "You've never mentioned it before!"

"You were determined before not to go to Lindon, in case anyone decided to force a crown upon your head," Nellas replied.

"What is the name of this place?" Daeron asked. "It does not sound like a good place, if no one goes there."

"It has kept the name it was given before Beleriand sank," said Nellas. "Dor Firn-i-Guinar."