[piosenniel]

The perimeter pathway was free of guards as they made their way back to the Elven ship. In the distance, to each side of the road, there were minor skirmishes going on. Of some concern to Pio was the group of guards battling to win their way through to the exit from the river tunnel. ‘They know they have no hope of stopping the rescue.’ she thought to herself. ‘Death is in their faces, and they fight now only to kill as many as they can.’

She took her sword from Gamba, who walked beside her as did his brother, and ran a short way north, toward the fighting, thinking to lend aid against the guards. But Angara placed herself between the Elf and her intended goal, and forced her back. ‘You are needed on the ship, Elf. Others will take care of such minor problems.’

Pio leaned on her sword, and regarded the Dragon wearily, too tired to make protest, her sudden burst of energy now gone. She sheathed her sword and called the companions close about her. Fatigue dulled their eyes and made their steps slow. Together they made it back to the ship, and were hauled aboard by the Elves and Ancalimon.

Relief shone in his face as he brought her on board. She managed a smile when she saw him. A gasp and low moan escaped her as he grasped her left arm to help her onto the deck. He stripped off the vambrace, his eyes widening as he assessed the still bleeding gash on her forearm. He took her below, and made her sit on one of the bunks while he washed off the old blood, and sluiced the wound with clean water to wash out any debris. She winced as he did this, and looked away, her face pale even beneath the battle grime. Once done he bound the wound with strips of clean cloth, bringing the edges of the gash near each other, that the flesh might begin to knit itself back together in time.

She thanked him, and rose from her seat to go above, but a sudden wave of dizziness assailed her and she staggered as she stood. Ancalimon pushed her gently back onto the bunk, and made her lie down. ‘I must go up and see that all have returned.’ she insisted, raising herself up on her elbows. ‘We will need to shift times soon after that.’

‘You need not do all that, Pio.’ he chided her. ‘I will see that all are accounted for, and when it is time, I will come for you to make the link.’ ‘I will hold you to that, Olórin.’ She said softly, holding his gaze. ‘And so it will be.’ he assured her.

It was another hour before he came to get her. She lay on the bunk thinking that the grim nightmare of this night would never end. Her thoughts turned to those who would not see their way back to safety, the dead and those more unfortunate ones whose spirits would be broken by the unrelenting horror that had assailed them. She wept and entreated whoever might hear her, that, in time, they might be whole again.

Her eyes were dry when Ancalimon came for her, telling her all were now aboard the ships. Her gait was steady; her face composed as she came on deck and strode to the bow. The emptiness that came when battle was done filled her senses and a certain silence hung thick in the air.

Her grey eyes lightened and shone with clear purpose as she turned south and opened her mind to make the links. Their minds sparkled, like bright gems strung on a thin thread. She made the last, gentle link to Veritas, and felt the Elf’s mind reach for hers in relief.

Now! she called.


The smoke of battle and the river beneath them shimmered, and winked out.

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Mithadan's Post:

He paused at the mouth of the tunnel and looked back into the caverns. He heard Bird roar, a sound followed by screams and the smell of burning flesh. The remaining Elves rushed by him towards the river.

Then he heard both dragons screech in anger as they turned to face the guards rushing through the Main Cave. None got within five paces of the wyrms. Then the two sent forth their blasts filling the caverns with flame. When they turned to exit, Mithadan made his way down to the river.

Seizing a bladder, he leaped into the water, gasping as the cold stream surrounded him. Underwater hands seized him and dragged him from the caves and over to the first boat where he was hauled on board to collapse upon the deck. Angara landed next to him and looked down on the sodden Man. Before she could speak, he heaved himself up from the deck and to his feet. The dragon nodded and wandered towards the rear of the ship.

The deck was a blur of activity. Hobbits were being ushered below decks by Elves. The wounded were being tended to where they sat or lay. The fog dissipated and the stars illuminated the vessel with a crystalline light. Ancalimon came up the gangway and began counting the crew of the ship. Mithadan grasped the rail tightly as the crew cast off the lines which had been tied to a nearby tree.

Daisy danced over, spinning and leaping with joy. "We did it!" she shouted over and over again. She halted before the Man and looked up at him with a wide smile on her face. Then her eyes narrowed. Mithadan's eyes were dull and his jaw was slack. His brows were covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Daisy took a step forward, then gasped as a drop of blood fell from his tunic, followed moments later by another and then another. He gazed down at her as she looked wildly about. He knew that she was seeking Piosenniel. "No, Daisy," he said. "Wait. Find her after we leave."

She shifted her weight from side to side, her mind uncertain and conflicted. Just then Piosenniel came up on deck. The Elf closed her eyes and Mithadan felt her thought seek out those on the other ships. Then the smoke of battle and the river beneath them shimmered, and winked out.

As all on board cheered wildly, Mithadan lost his grip on the rail, staggered to one side and fell heavily to the deck...

[ November 01, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]

[ November 03, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]