*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰  BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ A NEW DAWN ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT ONE ── ad melinora 🏹 ⁺⑅

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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ WE NEED TO FIND A HEALER ❞
THE PROLOGUE ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year one
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝙨𝙪𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 ❞

*✧ ─── THE AIR IS THICK, SMOKE RIDDLING THE LANDSCAPE, SCREAMS ECHOING LIKE THUNDER AND BLADES MEET LIKE STRIKES OF LIGHTNING. IT'S ALL TOO MUCH, TOO MUCH BLOOD, TOO MUCH PAIN, TOO MUCH DEATH, and Gyda, proud and fearless Gyda is scared. Her sword feels like hot iron in her shaking hands and the tremble of her bottom lip is the early sign of a girl ready to cry. But there is no time for fear or cowardice ━ without war, we would not know the value of peace, her father's words ring through her head as she marches on like one of the wooden toy soldiers she used to play with and made courageously move forward. But she can't help but think of running, to leave the war to her comrades that know this sight already. She believed to be ready, to be capable ━ this is what she was born for, but it seemed her years of training, of being called a prodigy did not manage to prepare her for the horrors she was facing right now.

Because Gyda is still a young girl, a stupid naïve girl she scolds herself. She knew war on paper, of stories told by her father under the moon. But this ━ this was as unfamiliar to her as her future, if she would even have one. Her muscles ache, as they burn beneath her skin like fire. Each step feels like her last one, but even if she is scared, and ready to cry, Gyda knows not of giving up, of giving in. Her stubborn nature might be her only saving grace left.

She tries not to look at the bodies littering the ground, at the blood or the mutters of dying men and elves as she stumbles around on her feet with a heaving chest desperate to inhale the fresh air and not this smoke riddled poison. She is vaguely aware of the other men and elves fighting around her, the war cries and curdling screams of orcs and men-alike.

She blinks and the world turns upside down, brute force knocking her to the ground. She can taste copper on her tongue, feel the rocks dig into her skin as she tumbles. Instincts kicks in as fast as lightning as she pushes herself up with her elbows, head ducking as the glint of metal nears her face.

Gyda's right hand tightened around the hilt of her sword and with a battle cry she lifts it up, metal meeting in the middle. A shock travels up her arm and she grits her teeth, eyes ablaze when they settle on the Orc towering over her.

Its grotesque face sends shivers down her spine and when its mouth twists into a smug smirk fear travels faster through her body than pain ever could.

But she swallows her insecurities and ducks underneath his arm, sword swinging with her motions as she cuts into its skin, blood spraying from the inflicted wound on his side. It merely groans, like it's a simple scrape. Gyda holds her sword in both shaking hands, already favouring her right leg when she feels the familiar sting in her left.

The Orc in front of her stands tall above her, dark eyes gleaming with bloodlust and for a moment, Gyda felt as if the plains of Dagorblad had fallen silent. "You will snap in half nicely."

Her jaw clenches as she strains her neck to glare at the Orc with fake bravado, "We'll see about that." the words barely have been spoken before she challenges forward in pure determination with the sound of war thrumming around her once again.

The clash of swords was brief, one blinding and harsh hit before Gyda moves sideways, swift and quick on her feet as the two opposing swords separate again. The grip on her own sword was as firm as steel as she elbows the Orc in the ribs.

It didn't do much harm, but the distraction grants her enough time to move again. Like a game of cat and mouse, one she played with wooden swords and other little elflings, she twirls and jabs around the Orc who only grows more frustrated, more reckless... more thoughtless.

Gyda can already feel the ache in her lungs as she ducks once more, this time sliding between the legs of the Orc, the rough terrain digging in her skin before standing up swiftly, sword already twirling in her hand before the Orc can turn around.

A single, forceful thrust and the swords finds a home in its spine, the Orc crumbles to the ground.

The shake in her hand returns again, blood dripping from the steel and a shuddering breath leaves her parted lips. Her gaze lifts upwards again where the battle rages on ━ where Sauron now has joined his own forces.

He looks deadly ethereal and hauntingly striking towering above everyone else. Gyda felt her feet moving before she had realised she was running towards the thickness of battle.

She charges forward, knowing to leave fear behind her in the dust now and trade it for the fickle strength of courage. In a flurry of crashing swords and painful strikes, Gyda moves around without taking a moment to let her thoughts invade her mind.

She moves on pure instinct now, and the only thing that registers is the fact that Sauron is approaching from the distance where the elven army stands ready to face him. She knows Lord Elrond marches at the front with his people, where she knows King Elendil and High-King Gil-Galad are too.

Where he father stands beside his king.

Before she knows it, Gyda is among the other elves, moving in tandem and shouts of bravery and screeches echo loudly. From a distance she can see Sauron closing in, and it leaves her momentarily distracted.

A sword moves before she can comprehend what's happening. It's searing pain in her side that breaks her from her thoughts and she stumbles backwards. Two Orcs stand before her, yellow eyes malicious and lips coated with blood.

One hand holds her side, where a puncture wound bleeds heavily while the other holds her sword upright. The onslaught of the two Orcs is relentless and she can only hope to defend herself as she moves to avoid their blows.

She retreats backwards, stumbles and regains her balance countless of times. She quickstepped, ducks and twirls like a leaf in the wind but one can only run so far.

The taunt and harsh rocks are an unwelcoming feeling with the force she stumbles against them, rebounds of them momentarily before falling back again.

A sword moves downward, crashing in the rocks and they break above her head.

She's kneeling now, one hand on the hilt of her sword that has punctured the earth, the other is placed on the ground. She is trembling now ━ from fear? From exhaustion? Adrenaline? She doesn't know, and frankly she is passed the point of caring.

Be fearless in the face of dead.

Her father's words resound like a pleasant lullaby despite its meaning.

She blinks her tears away before looking up at her assailants, but she can't muster a façade, can't find herself to be fearless when her lips tremble and her chest heaves uncontrollably.

The Orc has already raised its sword for the final blow, and Gyda is too tired, in too much pain to move.

She closes her eyes instead.

A moment passes, too long, too strange and when she opens her eyes, she wishes the blade had finished her.

Gyldorn, right-hand of the High-King, feared swordsman ━ her father.

He stands proud and fearless as he faces the onslaught of the two Orcs ganging up on her. She screams at herself to stand up, to stand beside her father, but she is frozen in fear. She can only watch as another Orc creeps up on him like a deadly shadow.

"Adar!"

Everything happens at once. Gyldorn crashing his sword against the Orc's with such force it shatters on impact, while the sword of the third Orc drives through his back, comes out through the front of his abdomen.

His sword handle slips from his grasp and clatters on the ground, bouncing of the rocks and time slows down for Gyda.

Suddenly there is a harsh thrumming in her ears, her fingers on the hilt of her sword tighten. The hand on the ground pushing off, and she stands up.

"No!" She screams again, running forward with a rage she didn't realise she had. Everything moves too fast now. She isn't aware of her actions but before she can blink again, the Orcs are dead and she is kneeling next to her father.

Tears are streaming down her face, her sword lays next to her, forgotten.

"Adar?" She whispers fearfully, cradling his head in her lap, frantic hands moving away to press them to the wound. Thick, warm blood coats her hands, slips through the cracks relentlessly.

Her father's fingers find her own, calloused and large. "Adar, it's going to be okay."

Gyldorn splutters, "Gil-Galad has fallen." He manages to say and her eyes snap up to his.

It is only now she realises a more solemn silence has replaced the sound of violence. "Sauron too, Isildur has killed him."

"We won." Her words are a breathless whisper, a small spark of hope. "We need to find a healer." She is frantic again, but when Gyda stands up to move, her father's hold tightens. "Father?"

"Your mother is calling me home, dilthen maethor."

"No." Gyda shakes her head feverishly, pressing her hands firmer against the wound. "No you can't leave me yet."

"Gyda."

Her father's words are firm, demanding and she faces him again. Tears are swirling in her eyes. "Gyda. Elgarain is Gil-Galad's heir. Gyda, promise me, like I have, like our ancestors have, to protect her. Protect her from all that means harm, all that threatens her life. Vow to stand beside her, be her counsel, be her protector. Her shield and sword."

"Adar please, a healer will ━"

"Gyda promise me."

"I will adar. I vow it."

Gyldorn's hand reaches up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "You look just like her, dilthen maethor."

A sob leaves her throat when his hands drops down again. She leans forward, head resting on his chest as she shakes. "Please no. Father please."

His chest already stopped rising.

But Gyda keeps pleading all the same until the sun rises with a new dawn.

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𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙧

─ jeanpaul sartre
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ᵒ .༄ ࿐ ࿔* 🏹🌋🪨
⋆⋅ ━━━━ ‧ ༻✩༺ ‧ ━━━━ ⋅⋆
third age ━━ year one

THE SILENCE IS AN UNWELCOME COMPANION TO GYDA AS SHE SITS ON ONE OF THE CARTS THAT HOLD THE DEAD THEY COULD RECOVER. The silence is only a reminder. The silence that followed their victory a cruel taunt of fate. Her hand still clutches the tarp in which her father's broken sword had been wrapped up in. The stained green wool fabric soft to the touch. Days and nights pass, people talk to her, give her food and water, ask her to take a walk, take a nap, do anything. But Gyda remains on the cart, her father's blood still on her hands. Literally and figuratively. Passive, unmovable.

"There are only two things inevitable in this world." Gyda doesn't move, "Death," Her eyes flicker up to meet the ones of Lord Elrond, "and life."

Gyda doesn't speak, she just stares, the words not truly registering in her mind and Elrond just takes it as his cue to sit down next to her and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "There is still much life to live for you young Gyda."

"What about its meaning?" Her voice is hoarse from not speaking, her throat is dry and scratchy and when she looks at Elrond her eyes glaze over again.

One of his hands grabs one of her bloodstained ones, the dried blood rough against skin. "You will find it again."

Gyda hums but doesn't say anything in response and instead glues her eyes to the vast expanse of woods from her homeland. With the close return to Lindon, the heavy weight of her promise, her vow, her future makes it harder to breath

"I made the vow." Her words are a breathless whisper, but Elrond hears it all the same. "Like my father before me, and his before him."

"I know you will carry it out well." Elrond promises and catches her gaze again.

"I have to."

"They're back!"

"They have returned from Mordor!"

Their conversation is cut off, as Nõldor elves approach them with jubilant cheers, still unaware of the perish of their High-King, of Elgarain's new responsibilities.

"She's still so young." Gyda speaks solemnly at the thought of young Elgarain. "Still a child."

"So are you."

Gyda squares her shoulders, shakes off the pain, shakes off the fear. It is her responsibility now. "Not anymore."

Those are her parting words as she pushes herself off of the cart, only a moment of hesitation as she clutches the green wool fabric. Her thumb caresses the soft material, before placing it on the cart, next to the tarp that covers her father's body.

Not anymore.

She repeats it in her head as she pushes through the crowd until she spots one of her father's most trusted man. She only catches his eyes for a second but the message is clear. The guard pauses as Gyda moves past him to one of the horses.

"So the rumours are true." The guard, Mythas whispers when he falls in step next to her. "And Gyldorn ━"

"Dead." She states evenly despite the pain before lowering her voice, "He had me promise."

Mythas nods and she can see the understanding in his eyes, gifts her a sad smile as Gyda climbs on the horse. "She'll be waiting for you."

Gyda nods, and urges the horse forward hurriedly, the grant palace of Lindon ahead of her, light gleaming from the beige stone where the sun shone upon it. The grant watchtowers with their exquisite designs and the small pathways she had run through as a young elfling welcoming her home.

A stable hand is next to her before she realises she's at the gate of the courtyard. Stroking the mares mane, Gyda swiftly lets her feet touch the ground again. The brunette takes a moment to gather her thoughts as she stands before the gate. She rolls her shoulders and exhales as if it will make everything better and make the nerves disappear.

She takes strong and purposeful steps, one blood-coated hand on the hilt of her sword, the other limp by her side as she tries to look fearless.

The courtyard was in full bloom this time of year, an ethereal light seemed to illuminate the flowers and make the water in the fountain glister. It looked peaceful.

It felt wrong

Gyda's movements falter for a small second when noise suddenly fills the courtyard, laughter echoing from the stairs. Her hazel eyes are fixated on young Elgarain, the crown princess...well queen now.

Her hair bounces as she runs in her innocent white dress, eyes full of jubilance, a smile so bright it could rival the sun. Their eyes meet and the elfling halts.

Gyda swallows, tries to look confident when Aerian, the High-Queen, steps into the light behind her daughter, an encouraging hand on her child's shoulder.

Gyda can feel her heart crack when she meets the gaze of her High-Queen, emotions swirl but remain unspoken but they are communicated all the same.

"What happened?" Aerien's words sound like birdsong in the wind, still beautiful and Gyda fears her next word will kill the sound forever.

Gyda opens her mouth, but sweet, hopeful, and innocent Elgarain speaks first as her head flips between looking at her mother and at her. "What's going on?"

The brunette clears her throat, shifts from one feet to the other, before casually clasping her hands behind her back, to look more put together, and to shield her blood stained hands from the young girl. "Isildur has killed Sauron." The words taste strange on her tongue.

"Where's my father?" Elgarain speaks up again, standing on the tips of her toes as if making herself taller will make her father appear behind her shoulder.

Gyda's eyes lock with Aerien's again, and she can feel her hands shaking behind her back. "During the battle, to find a moment to strike..."She swallows, recalling the words of other generals that had spoken to her. "To strike ━ " she repeats before changing her words again. "King Gil-Galad fought bravely and relentlessly for his people. Gyldorn was by his king's side as the Valar called him back home." Gyda's words crack at the last couple of words, her own eyes lower before she kneels down in front of the queen, and now the soon to be High-Queen. "Queen Aerien I am sorry for the tragedy that has struck you family. He has earned his rest."

The queen gasps, hand flying to her mouth as realisation sets in, and tears well up in her eyes. Young Elgarain looks up at her mother, fingers lacing in the soft material of her mother's dress. "What's happened? Why isn't father here?"

Aerien slowly lowers her trembling hand, placing it on her daughter's shoulders, turning her so she's facing her mother. Gyda can feel her own eyes fill with tears as she regards the mother and daughter duo.

"Hínya,"the queen whispers, "your father isn't coming back."

Elgarain shook her head, her lip trembling. "No, no, where's adar?"

Aerien remained speechless as she watched her daughter slowly fall apart in front of her.

Desperately shaking her head Elgarain slowly backed away, tears streaming down her cheeks. When the queen reached out to wipe them away, Elgarain recoils at her touch. And suddenly she was moving towards Gyda, her small hands curl into fists. "Where is he! Where did you take him?"

Gyda's hands outstretch towards the incoming elfling, but she can't bring herself to stop her when her eyes catch the red colour of blood on her skin. Her father's blood. She might not know Elgarain, but she already knows the bitter sting of loss

Elgarain's small fists hit her stomach, pure white dress a flurry in the wind as she moves quickly, shouting and screaming but the young elf doesn't move. "Elgarain." Gyda whispers, "Elgarain."

The shouts of the elfling slowly morph into sobs, angry frown turning slack as her eyes glaze over. Gyda swallows thickly, hands moving deliberately to catch her tiny fists. "Elgarain, please. He can't come back. I can't bring him home to you. No one can."

Gyda moves to crouch down to her eye level but the elfling is recoiling away from her, and like a strike of lightning, she moves away, and before the brunette can blink, Elgarain is darting away from the courtyard.

Uncertainly, Gyda stands back up again, her own eyes glazing over when she looks at the queen.

"I assume you're father has left us as well?" The words are soft, but they carve into her heart like a knife.

Gyda moves closer to the queen, steps sluggish, "He died protecting me." She can barely whisper the words, "I made the vow for Elgarain."

Aerien's kind eyes soften at the words. "I'm sincerely sorry for you loss Gyda. Your father was a friend. He was family."

Gyda nods, and Aerien continues, "Are you sure you want to take over your father's roll? You're stilling young Gyda."

She squares her shoulders, "I am. It is my duty. It is my destiny. It always has been." She pauses, a hint of doubt in her eyes. "I just didn't think it would be this soon."

A soft hand touches her cheek, tilting her head up. "If this is what you want, I will accept your shield and sword on behalf of my daughter."

Gyda manages a small smile, a new weight on her shoulders, "Thank you. Elgarain will be safe by my side. I promise you."

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ELVISH TRANSLATIONS
Adar — father
dilthen maethor — little warrior
hinya— daughter