Wolves And Shattered Shields by Hoglorfen

A Painful Parting

Theolas frowned. ”Orcs,” the scroll read, ”are small of stature, with coarse hair and fanged jaws. Without a greater evil will to govern them, they quickly degenerate into small quarrelsome tribes that congregate in mountainous areas, making travel there perilous in smaller groups.”

He threw the scroll aside and picked up an old leather-bound book. ”It is unclear when Orcs first came into being, but it certainly happened before the War For Sake Of The Elves. They first appeared in greater numbers some time before the First Battle of Beleriand, where the Elves...”
He closed the book with a sigh. Nothing, he thought. It is as if the scholars of old tried to wipe the Orcs from memory, mentioning them no more than absolutely necessary. He had scoured his library for anything that mentioned them, and the collection he now had before him was meager. The libraries of Eregion or Mithlond probably had more, but was it enough? Would it answer his questions, or leave him with even more?

The Orc's voice echoed in his mind. ”I love her. I'm not even sure what that means and what I do know scares the shit outta me, but I do. Nothing can take that away from me.” Theolas remembered the revulsion he had felt when first hearing those words, his doubt and his anger at stolen innocence. But the truth had been there in Whindaër's eyes when she had first visited him in the healer's house, and now he was not sure how he felt. He turned to watch the Sea through the dusty window. Some of the wise of Eressëa claimed that Orcs had once been Elves, taken captive and tortured by Morgoth. It was commonly repeated, but was in truth a much debated topic. If that was the case, did they have fëas? Could they be redeemed? Were they to be counted among the Children of Ilúvatar or rather placed among ents and other sentient yet soulless creatures? For sentient they were, they clearly had minds and wills of their own when not controlled by their masters. And apparently they are capable of emotions other than hate and spite, Theolas added to himself.
Whindaër had not yet received the Orc's message. Theolas was not sure how to bring the topic up. But he had made a promise to his unlikely savior and time was passing. He took the staff he used to support himself with and began limping out of his study.

”A good feint,” Sairion said. ”At it again!”
Whindaër watched from the side as Falastur sparred with the weaponmaster. How they have grown, Theolas thought as he approached. The two combatants ceased their sparring as they spotted him and Falastur and Whindaër bowed.
”Let me see that,” Theolas said. Falastur placed his sword in the scholar's hand, and Theolas held it up while studying the blade. Then he glanced at Sairion, who nodded slightly. They exchanged a few swift blows. Then they stopped, as abruptly as they had begun. Theolas smiled.
”It would seem that I have not forgotten my training after all,” he said while handing the sword back to the astonished Falastur.
”You have forgotten none of it, my friend,” Sairion said. ”Return the swords, both of you. The lesson is over.”
”I have come to steal one of your students, if I may,” Theolas said as the youngsters returned.
”It is hardly theft if I allow you to,” Sairion said jokingly. Then he nodded.
Theolas turned to Whindaër. ”Come. Walk with me.”

They left the haven and turned west, following a narrow path that led towards the Sea. There was a small cove among the high cliffs where the waves that swept in from Belfalas Bay were calmer and the wind less severe. Theolas sat down upon the sand and beckoned for Whindaër to do the same.
”I often come here to contemplate,” he said, ”when I do not wish to be disturbed. This place rarely has visitors.” Whindaër nodded, and Theolas could see the question in her eyes. He collected his thoughts for a moment, then he spoke.
”I have brought you here to deliver a message, one meant for your ears and yours alone. Graznikh wishes you to know that he still has it.”
Whindaër picked up a seashell, turning it in her hands. Theolas watched her patiently. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it. Then she whispered; ”How?”
”I have not described to anyone the details of my escape from the dungeons of the Orcs. But I will tell you this now: I did not make it. He did. He devised the plan to get me out on his own, without my knowledge, and executed it expertly without my aid. I thought him an Orc like any other, coming to end my life as it was already nearing its final moment. But he bound my wounds, brought me out unseen and carried me all the way to the edge of our realm, where he left me with this message for you.”
She looked up. ”Did you speak to him?”
”Yes,” Theolas said softly. ”He told me that he loves you, and, as unreal as it seems, I believe him to be sincere.”
Whindaër's eyes teared up, and Theolas held her as she cried.

”I do not know if I love him,” Whindaër said later. ”It certainly did not feel that way when the bond formed, and now...” She sighed. ”It is not at all as I had imagined it.” I daresay, Theolas thought, desperately trying to shut out the vivid, horrid mental images that came with those seemingly innocent words.
”In all my long years, I have never heard or read about anything even remotely similar,” he said, ”and it worries me. Your lover,” it was sheer strength of will that kept his voice neutral and him from scowling with disgust, ”may be free of mind and body now. Morgoth is gone, but many of his servants also have the ability to control the Orcs. Some of them are still unaccounted for.”
Whindaër looked at the seashell in her hands. ”Would you have me fade? Or take the ships into the West, as mother speaks of doing?”
Theolas frowned. ”Of course not. And... I did not know she nurtured that desire.”
”She has not decided yet, and father is apparently reluctant to leave Eregion now that great things are happening there.”
”And what of you and Falastur?”
Whindaër shook her head. ”I have no wish to leave and it is not only because of... him. This is my home, I know of no other, and I wish to travel once I am ready. There are so many sights I have not yet seen. I do not know Falastur's mind, we have not spoken much lately.”
Theolas smiled. ”You are a child of this Hither Shore in truth. I too wish to stay for a while longer. If your parents depart before you are of age, I would be honoured to mentor you both.”
She gave him a sad smile. ”Thank you.”
”And fear not, your secret is safe with me. Have you met him again after he let you go the first time?”
She nodded.
”I see.” Theolas pondered it for a while. ”I will not ask you not to meet him, for I fear that it would be fruitless. The bond will pull you towards each other whether you want it or not. But be cautious. Every encounter increases the risk of detection.”

As Whindaër walked along the docks, she found her path barred by Aldariel and her friends. The group would never stop pestering her about her 'hidden lover' and found the mystery unbearably romantic.
”Will you not yet reveal to us who it is?”
”There is nothing to reveal,” Whindaër replied.
”Is it a Man? Have you chosen the path of Lúthien?”
Whindaër gave her a tart look. ”Why would I ever do that?”
”Because of your lover! Has your father sent him on an impossible quest to win your hand?”
”In a manner of speaking,” Whindaër said. There was no silencing them.
”But then he will die, and you will fade in grief!”
”Perhaps it is one of the Doriathrin from Edhellond,” One of the others said.
”That would be preferable to a Man,” Aldariel replied.
The youngest of them giggled. ”Perhaps it is an Orc?”
”Yes!” Whindaër spun and clapped her hands, startling the group. ”Yes, of course it is! I have gone and fallen in love with the Orc that captured me; like Aredhel to Eöl I have forgiven the violation that was forced upon me and now I walk these shores and pine for my dark lover from the shadows!”

With that, she left the stunned group. At least they are silent now. Then she realised how much like Graznikh she had sounded. That dry causticity was his, as was the lack of patience. Whindaer wrapped her arms around her shoulders and watched the mountains in the distance. My dark lover from the shadows...How he would laugh if he ever heard that. Must life always be so complicated?

”That was cruel.”
Aldariel and her friends turned from their whispering as they heard Falastur, who was leaning against a pillar at the top of the stairs. ”But she is so quiet!”
”As you might be after suffering at the hands of the Orcs,” he said as he walked down to join them.
”Then... do you know who it is?”
”No. And I will not ask her. Neither should you. Like Theolas, she will speak when she is ready to do so. Bothering her beforehand will only delay her healing, you know this.”
The group looked down in shame at the gentle scolding. As they curtsied and left, Falastur spotted his sister by the end of the pier. Always watching the mountains, he thought. Why is that?
”Growing restless, dear sister?” he asked as he approached her. Whindaër nodded.
”It may sound strange, but I miss the mountain air.”
”Sairion spoke to me after you left and asked me to pass this on. We are to join the border patrols in a few weeks' time, once our new equipment is ready.” He returned Whindaër's smile.
”Finally!”
Falastur laughed. ”I do not quite share your enthusiasm. Walking in the cold rain, or sitting on a talan for hours... it may not be as adventurous as you crave.”
”Even so, I look forward to it.” She turned her gaze again towards the mountains.
All of a sudden a bolt of sheer panic and intense pain hit her through the bond. Falastur almost fell into the water as Whindaër screamed and fell to the ground. He called her name and began calling for aid when she did not reply.
”HELP!!! Help, my sister is hurt!!!”

Theolas came limping into Elveanië's house as the healer tried in vain to soothe Whindaër's invisible wounds. Falastur tried to comfort Terenwen who sat on the bedside beside her daughter. The terror in his niece's eyes told him everything he needed to know.
”May I speak to her for a moment?” he asked softly. ”Alone.”
Terenwen stood, followed by Falastur, but Elveanië hesitated. ”You are no healer,” she said.
”I am no healer, nor do I intend to become one,” Theolas reassured her. ”But what my niece suffers from is no illness, nor a wound that can be healed by any outer means. It is a pain I am very familiar with. Let me try to reach her.” Elveanië looked at Terenwen, who nodded. As they left, Theolas knelt by the bed and looked into Whindaër's eyes.
”Is it the bond?” he whispered. She nodded, eyes hazy with pain.
”Is he alive?”
”He is dying, he cannot breathe!” came the terrified whisper. ”My fëa... he is tearing my fëa from me!”
Theolas placed his hands on her tear-stained cheeks. She should not be able to feel it this strongly, he thought as he looked into Whindaër's eyes. ”Listen to me. I know that it hurts, more than anything, and I know how you fear for him. But you must be strong, you must stay here. Your strength may save you both. Can you do that?”
There was a glimmer of determination in her eyes and she took a deep breath. Then she frowned and closed her eyes.

Graznikh hit the tree with the full force of the avalanche that had caught him. He screamed but there was no sound and the next moment, everything went black. There was snow everywhere around him, he did not know what was up or down and he could not move, could not breathe... Succumbing to panic, he tried to scream again only to feel his mouth fill with the white cold. His lungs burned from lack of air. I'm dying, oh shit I'm dying!
Moments passed; days, years, centuries, all in darkness. This is what the Void feels like, he thought. Whin, I don't wanna go without you! I don't wanna leave you! He felt his chest cramp as it desperately tried to draw air into his lungs.
Suddenly he was blasted by feelings through the bond. Love, reassurance, resolve. They slowly but surely pushed the panic and fear away. Then he felt something tug at his hair. He tried to scream again and suddenly his head came free. He took his first painful, blessed breath as Shâtaz pulled him up from the snow.
”How many did we lose?” someone asked.
”Three,” came Tarnakh's voice. ”Skai...”
Graznikh sat on the snow, feeling dazed. He looked out across the snow-covered mountain range. I'm alive! Whin, I'm alive! He gave her a push of sheer ecstasy of being alive and could almost hear her gasp in surprise. It made him grin.
Tarnakh stopped beside him. ”How're you holdin' up?”
Graznikh met his sire's eyes. ”Never felt better.”

Weeks turned to months, which in turn became years. Every now and then they would reach out to each other through the bond, sometimes in fear or grief, sometimes in joy. They could stay for hours, exploring each other through it. But Graznikh would also use it while fondling himself, forcing his need on her until she lay writhing upon her bed, face pressed into the pillow to muffle her desperate moans and gasping for air as the sheets underneath became increasingly wet. Occasionally he would even goad her into touching herself; the first time it happened had been a complete shock for them both. Feeling each other's pleasure intensify as they spiralled towards completion was almost as good as the actual act, and the knowledge that his little Elf was so hot for him that she fingered herself even though 'Elves did not do that' was amazing fap material for Graznikh. Wanking had never felt better. Whindaër studied and practiced hard and was soon a fully fledged marchwarden, patrolling the borders of the small settlement and occasionally venturing out on her own. But she did not meet her 'dark lover from the shadows' again. Always there seemed to be things in the way.
One day, Terenwen called both her children to her. ”I have decided. I shall leave for Mithlond once the weather has calmed enough for sailing.”
Falastur cried at this, but Whindaër stood calm. ”I will miss you,” she said as she hugged her mother.
”And I you, the both of you,” Terenwen said.
”What of father?”
She looked down. ”He will not go.”
”Will he not come and say his farewells? He has been absent for so long,” Falastur said. Terenwen smiled sadly.
”He will come, fear not.”

A few weeks later, Whindaër stood before her father for the first time since she had come of age. Estelmaitë was a stern man who rarely smiled, but his eyes spoke clearly of the things his mouth would not. As he met his daughter's eyes on the training grounds, his eyes shone with pride and appreciation.
”Sairion tells me you show great promise.”
”He gives praise too generously,” Whindaër replied.
Estelmaitë nodded. ”Be that as it may.” He took a sword from the weaponstand, then turned to face her. ”Care to spar?”
He seemed surprised as Whindaër took a glaive, a polearm similar to a spear but with a swordlike blade in one end, from the stand.”This is your weapon of choice?”
Whindaër nodded. ”I have always been most proficient with staves and the like; Sairion thought that this would be a fitting weapon.”
Estelmaitë smiled. ”A weapon fit for a king. Or a queen.”

Whindaër knew that it was an uneven match. Estelmaitë tested her in every way and in her anxiety she made several dreadful mistakes. Soon, the tip of Estelmaitë's sword lay at her throat.
”Do not fear me, daughter,” he said without removing the blade. ”You are yet young, but I foresee great deeds in your future. You shall be a hero in the coming war.”
Whindaër met his eyes with a steady gaze. ”The world has been at peace for a long time.”
”It has indeed. But I am no optimist, and I know the signs. This Hither Shore is an ever changing place, and war will come. It will always come.” He returned the sword to the weaponstand and beckoned for her to do the same.
”There is darkness inside you, daughter,” he said quietly as she came close. ”Your mother worries for you.” Whindaër swallowed and nodded. Estelmaitë gave her one of his rare smiles.
”I say this to you now, for others would disagree with me if they heard my words and seek to sway your mind. Do not fear the darkness. Never surrender to it but use it, chain it down, let it be your strength and not your weakness. It cannot defeat you unless you let it.”
”I will try to heed your advice, father,” Whindaër said. Estelmaitë nodded.
”In truth, they are not my words. Terenwen wrote to me of your problem and her worries, and it so happened that Annatar was gracious enough to listen to me and lend some insight. He is a man of great knowledge and skill. I would heed his words, if I were you.”
"I have heard so much about him, all from different voices. I do not know what to believe."
Estelmaitë smiled. "And how many of these voices belong to people who have met him in person?" He took her hands. "I want you to know that there is always a place for you by my side. And should you ever feel that this darkness overwhelms you, do not hesitate to write or even come to me in Ost-In-Edhil. Annatar knows much that is hidden even from the Eldar, he will know the solution for sure."
Whindaër nodded. "I will bear it in mind. Thank you, father."