Whatever it takes by daughterofshadows

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Whatever it takes.

Inspired by this quote from Jane Austen - Northanger Abbey, particularly the bolded part:

"There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature. My attachments are always excessively strong. ... The men think us incapable of real friendship, you know, and I am determined to show them the difference."

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The weather was against them.

Ereinion did not know whether it was the enemy’s doing or sheer bad luck, but the snowfall had not subsided in days. Thick white flakes continued to fall to the ground where they quickly turned to grey slosh.

The cold seeped into every bone, and not even his wings helped ward off the chill helped ward off the chill any longer. He did not know how the men could stand it.

Still, they persevered. They had to. They had to.

Ereinion refused to lose Elrond as well. Not after they had only just lost Celebrimbor.

(A cousin, a friend, a brother. A tragedy. They had been so full of hope at the beginning of the age. How could things have changed so quickly? They only ever wanted peace.)

 

In his last letter the smith had begged him to take care of their younger cousin, but Ereinion had been too late. By the time news of Celebrimbor’s death had reached Lindon, Elrond’s refuge was already under siege.

So far, the joint forces of Elrond and Lord Celeborn had withstood the assault, but Ereinion doubted their luck would hold. It would only be a matter of time before their guard failed.

And then—No, he would not even think of it. They would break the siege, they would.

(Their laments might not be heard across the sea, but still he prayed. To all who would listen. Please let him survive, please…)

 

Tar-Minastir’s armament had turned the tide in their favour.

They might be cut off from the outside by all the snow, but so where the orcs. And currently their forces outnumbered the enemy.

(There was a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispering it would not be enough. Not against Him. Ereinion ignored it. What else could he do?)

 

Vilya he had left behind in Lindon, in Círdan’s care, uncertain whether it would have helped their endeavour and unwilling to bring it so close to the enemy.

Sauron did not command the forces here, but he was never far away.

Reports had him lingering in ruined Ost-in-Edhil. What had once been a beautiful city was now a wasteland. So many hopes dashed, so many dreams ruined.

(His betrayal had been all the more painful for its severity. Ereinion could not claim it to have been unexpected, but still he was shocked. Never again would they be fooled by maiar coming across the sea.)

 

There was the tell-tale rustling of stretching wings, and Ereinion did not have to turn around to know who had joined him in his tent. He had watched Elrond and Celebrían dance around each other, pushing and pulling, but never quite daring to touch.

Until finally the dam broke at last. He did not know what caused it, but suddenly, Celebrían spent more and more time with them as Elrond slowly drew her into the folds of their little family.

Ereinion might not desire love for himself, but he was happy for them.

Since she had joined their little bubble, the lines on Elrond’s face had softened, and he smiled more. Even Ereinion had found himself unwind in her presence. She had been one of the first people after Círdan and Elrond whom he felt safe enough with to display his wings.

(There were still those calling for his head, but their voices had quieted. Many had sailed, and the younger ones did not care for his parentage. They did not know Maedhros. They only knew Ereinion. They did not associate red wings with death.)

 

Celebrían not only made his herald happy—Ereinion would have liked her for that alone—but she was also skilled in her own right.

She was a phenomenal healer. Rather than focusing on battlefield care as Elrond had, she devoted her hours to progress, improving existing treatments and developing new medicines.

It was why Ereinion had protested taking her along on this campaign. Her skills were too valuable to lose on the battlefield.

But she had refused to be left behind, and in the end Ereinion had caved to her demands.

He had not regretted it. They had lost far fewer men than they would have usually. It was worth the added stress from making sure their healing ward remained well-guarded and Celebrían safe.

(At least one of his family was safe. At least one. He had not yet failed completely.)

 

“Lady Celebrían. How fares the healing ward?” he asked.

“I have finally convinced my mother to leave us be. Her talents are manifold, but healing is not amongst them”, she answered, and Ereinion suppressed a smile. It was true. The Lady Galadriel counted many accomplishments to her name, but she was no healer. Her strengths laid elsewhere.

“I am glad to hear it is faring well then. I fear we will have need of it again soon”, Ereinion muttered.

Celebrían placed a hand on his arm, wings folded back as propriety demanded, careful not to touch his own.

(He would not mind her touch. She was his family now, part of his flock. But some rules had to be followed. Especially here, where everyone might see them. It would have been different in Lindon.)

 

“We will be ready then, my lord. For those on the battlefield and for those we may find in the settlement.” There was no tremor in her voice betraying her nerves.

Her father was not the only one dear to her heart trapped in the valley. Elrond and Celeborn were still there, separated from them by hundreds of orcs.

Death was still a possibility. Maybe there would be only bodies left in the valley to bury when they finally broke the siege.

The cards had yet to be laid out.

(She knew this. They both did. Still, they hoped. It was all they had. There had never been anything else.)

 

“Your forces are ready, too, my lord. Everyone wants to end this siege”, Celebrían said.

Ereinion took a deep breath, mind returning to the present.

He covered Celebrían’s hand with his own, a grim smile on his lips.

“You are right. We are ready. Whatever it takes to bring him home to us safely.”

Celebrían nodded.

“Whatever it takes.”

(Today, they would prepare. Tomorrow, they would fight. This would finally end. No matter the cost.)

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Chapter End Notes

Please forgive any awkward formatting. Copy and pasting it from my doc ruined most of my italics *facepalm*