*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ POINT OF NO RETURN ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT TWO ── audentes fortuna iuvat 🏹 ⁺⑅

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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ GO NOW WITH GOOD HEARTS❞
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3019
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝘸𝘦 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 ❞

*✧ ─── THE MORNING OF THEIR DEPARTURE HAD COME WITH A CHILL IN THE AIR. THE PROMISE OF WINTER BEYOND THE LAST homely house of elves certain. The cold weather biting against her cheek and greeted Gyda as she had entered the courtyard. The first to arrive, ready for the dangerous journey ahead. Her father's sword was strapped to her hip, and the glaive he once crafted for her was held firmly in her right hand.

The sun started to rise beyond the tall cliffs, the watery sun casting an orange glow over the valley as more members of the fellowship started to arrive.

The Company took little gear of war, for their hope was in secrecy not in battle. Aragorn had Andu'ril –if Gyda had remembered the name correctly--but no other weapon, and he went forth clad only in rusty green and brown, as a Ranger of the wilderness. There was no sign of his true noble heritage. Boromir was next to arrive, somber looking, weary of the journey ahead. He had a long sword, in fashion like Andu'ril but of less lineage, and he bore also a shield and his war-horn.

Gimli the dwarf was already cursing under his breath as he arrived—claiming a spot among the fellowship furthest away from her. He alone wore openly a short shirt of steelrings, for dwarves make light of burdens; and in his belt was a broad-bladed axe.

Legolas had a bow and a quiver, and at his belt a long white knife. The younger hobbits wore the swords that they had taken from the barrow; Gandalf bore his staff, but girt at his side was the elven-sword Glamdring, the mate of Orcrist that lay now upon the breast of Thorin under the Lonely Mountain.

All were well furnished by Elrond with thick warm clothes, and they had jackets and cloaks lined with fur. Spare food and clothes and blankets and other needs were laden on a pony, none other than the poor beast that they had brought from Bree. Billy.

Gyda felt a small spurt of relief fill her as Galion appeared through the stone archways. He looked forlorn, knowing he was to stay behind, before departing towards Lindon to inform Elgarain's mother personally on the quest her daughter and closest guard would go on.

"Here you are, marching off once more." Galion whispers as he reaches her side, blue eyes startling clear in the early morning light. "I hate to see you go without me by your side." He admits with a frown.

Gyda's own heart aches at the words, for she and Galion had gone through every hardship together. Side by side, watching each other's back as they followed their people towards the dangers of Mordor in the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. "We've always walked the path side by side." She whispers with a watery smile. "Now we must separate, even if it hurts my heart."

Galion cups her neck in his hands rubbing soothing circles in her skin, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. Blue eyes meeting hazel, both eyes glazed over as words remain unspoken. The fear is present, a silent terror neither one dares to speak out loud. Will we meet again?

"Take care of yourself Gyda." He breathes out, "don't forget yourself."

"I will try." She promises with a heavy heart.

He chuckles, "That's all I can ever ask of you."

He backs away again, just as Elgarain appears from the shadows of the corridor. Medic bag slung over her shoulder, the glaive Gyda had made for her firmly gripped in her hand. He nudges her, and Gyda looks up to meet the eyes of her High-Queen.

"I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive us," she smiled slyly, focus fixed on Galion. "If this is truly the last time we will see each other, let us part as friends." The words were in a jesting manner, but there was truth laced in her words.

Galion grimaced. "Not losing hope already dear Tarinya?"

"Never," she replied, but Gyda knew the tension was visible in her smile.

Without another word Galion stepped forward and embraced her. Elgarain wrapped her arms around his waist, closing her eyes as she held her friend, mumbling something in her ear that Gyda could not make out.

Elgarain pulled away from him and nodded, eyes shining with unshed tears. "It was good seeing you," she told Galion with a warm smile. She placed her hand on his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze before walking up to Arwen and her brothers.

A silence fell over the courtyard when Lord Elrond came walking from beneath the archway, joining them before the gates of Imladris. Elgarain offered one last smile at the siblings before walking up the Fellowship, standing at Boromir's side as Elrond spoke a final goodbye.

"This is my last word," He says in a low voice. "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need. The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy will it be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road."

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens" says Gimli, and in those words, Gyda finds a small bit of respect for the dwarf.

"Maybe," Elrond nods, "but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall."

"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart," said Gimli.

Her own vow rings in her head; I vow to stand beside her, be her counsel, be her protector. Her shield and sword.

"Or break it," Elrond offers in return.

Gyda swallows nervously, daring a glimpse at Elgarain standing next to her.

What would her vow make of her?

"Look not too far ahead! But go now with good hearts! Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!"

Many others of Elrond's household stood in the shadows and watched them go, bidding them farewell with soft voices. There was no laughter, and no song or music. At last they turned away and faded silently into the dusk.

"The fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer," Gandalf spoke up.

All eyes turned to Frodo as he walked up towards the gates, leading them on their journey. "Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?"

Gandalf's voice was warm when he replied: "Left."

They crossed the bridge and wound slowly up the long steep paths that led out of the cloven vale of Rivendell; and they came at length to the high moor where the wind hissed through the heather. Then with one glance at the Last Homely House twinkling below them they strode away far into the night.

*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝘪𝘴 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧,
𝙙𝙪𝙩𝙮 𝘪𝘴 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣

─ robert jordan

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FOR MANY SUNLESS DAYS AN ICY BLAST CAME FROM THE MOUNTAINS IN THE EAST, AND NO GARMENT SEEMED ABLE to keep out its searching fingers. Though the Company was well clad, they seldom felt warm, either moving or at rest. They slept uneasily during the middle of the day, in some hollow of the land, or hidden under the tangled thorn-bushes that grew in thickets in many places. In the late afternoon they were roused by the watch, and took their chief meal: cold and cheerless as a rule, for they could seldom risk the lighting of a fire. In the evening they went on again, always as nearly southward as they could find a way.

Each day the land looked much the same as it had the day before. Yet steadily the mountains were drawing nearer. South of Rivendell they rose ever higher, and bent westwards; and about the feet of the main range there was tumbled an ever wider land of bleak hills, and deep valleys filled with turbulent waters. Paths were few and winding, and led them often only to the edge of some sheer fall, or down into treacherous swamps.

They had been a fortnight on the way when the weather changed. The wind suddenly fell and then veered round to the south. The swift-flowing clouds lifted and melted away, and the sun came out, pale and bright. There came a cold clear dawn at the end of a long stumbling night-march. The travellers reached a low ridge crowned with ancient hollytrees whose grey-green trunks seemed to have been built out of the very stone of the hills. Their dark leaves shone and their berries glowed red in the light of the rising sun.

Now the wind was howling as they reached the Eregion Hills at. Gyda's eyes stray across the vast landscape ahead from her vantage point. The hobbits were already climbing the sharp edged rocks to get a better look. Gyda was certain they hadn't seen much of Middle-Earth beyond the safety of their homeland.

Pippin and Merry were quick to push one another away in favor of getting higher, quicker. Much like they had jested one another during the days they were training in Rivendell, and as she catches Boromir's eye, she can see him notices the same thing—if his smile is anything to go by.

A moment passes as everyone looks at their surroundings. Getting to know the layout of their resting place. She can hear Aragorn conversing with Legolas, their whispers carried on the wind, most likely only heard by the elves of the company. At the thought, her gaze focuses on Elgarain, standing on one of the larger stones, flattened by erosion. She gazes at the sun rising beyond the hills.

For a moment it reminds Gyda of their first journey to Rivendell. But there is no parchment nor pencil in Elgarain nimble fingers. Now she holds the leather band of her medic bag.

With quick strides she moves towards Boromir, and he nods his head at her when he notices her approach. "The Hobbits could do with another lesson." She starts hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "After camp has been set up."

He hums, eyes darting towards the three Hobbits and the Ringbearer. For a moment she notices his eyes glaze over as he watches Frodo, but he quickly shakes his head. And Gyda can visibly see the fog clear from his mind.

She says nothing of it, and Boromir only grunts a simple yes in agreement before he moves towards Aragorn and Legolas, already unpacking their bags. Gyda waits a moment, almost hesitant to approach the group of three—or more specifically the Ellon.

She swallows away her fear, squares her shoulders as if prepping for battle before following after Boromir.

Legolas is the first to look up when he notices her presence. There is confidence in her strides but Gyda finds it hard to hold his gaze for long. Her jaw twitches before she looks towards Aragorn.

"The rocks should give us enough coverage from the wind." He states but they all know he speaks of more than the cold. "It's best to rest here. The hobbits seem weary from the journey."

They all look towards the mentioned hobbits. Sam is sitting, feet dangling from one of the rocks, his large backpack laid next to him. He keeps glancing at it, fingers itching to grab something from it. Frodo is next to him, blue eyes startling clear despite the lack of sleep. And the weight he carries.

The only two with some energy left are Merry and Pippin, but even they are less chatty as they inspect every inch of their new campsite.

"We should start a fire." Gyda mutters, eyes cast towards the mostly barren landscape.

"I'll help you look for firewood." Legolas speaks up, pushing himself back up to his feet. But before he can take a step towards her, she shakes her head in denial. "You should take first watch. Your eyes are better fit for it than theirs." The last part is directed at Aragorn and Boromir who watches the exchange unsurely.

"It's smart." Boromir manages to reply after a beat of silence and Aragorn nods in agreement.

"I'll take Sam with me to start the fire." Elgarain appears next to her.

Gyda turns to her queen with a worried expression, one that Elgarain clearly recognizes.

Before Gyda can open her mouth to protest, she tries to assure her already. "We won't be far Gyda. You know I can defend myself if it comes to it." Elgarain states, hand resting the dagger strapped to her hip. "You should focus on the Hobbits. They need you more than I do now."

Gyda bites the inside of her cheek, contemplating the idea before sighing in defeat. "Alright."

Elgarain pivots back around, approaching Sam and speaking in a hushed tone to the Hobbit. He smiles up gleefully at the Elleth, patting his stomach before pushing himself up to his feet to follow the High-Queen.

Her worried gaze follows her despite knowing Elgarain is safe.

A spark shoots up her arm, when someone grabs her wrist, and Gyda turns her head to look up at Legolas. There is a frown on her face as she waits for him to speak.

"I'll keep an eye on her."

Warmth blossoms in her chest. "Ni'lassui." She replies, a genuine smile on her face.

"We should get the other Hobbits gathered." Boromir speaks up, gaining Gyda's attention as he unseats his sword from its scabbard, steel glinting in the sunlight.

"We shall." She produces her own sword, the light catching the well crafted metal.

Together, the pair approach Merry and Pippin.

The sight of them together easily spurs to Hobbits on when they notice their swords out on display. Like eager children—once that remind Gyda of some elflings back in Lindon, they run to grab their own elven crafted swords from the bags.

Time passes quickly, like it always does when she has a sword in her hand. Thoughts cease to exists beyond the battle in front of her. Worries escape her like smoke through her fingers.

Gyda had barely noticed Elgarain return with Sam by her side. Both carrying enough firewood to get a good fire going for their meal. It had only been when the smell of sausage infiltrated her senses that she noticed how much time had passed already. The sun was higher in the sky, warming her skin as she observed the two Hobbits sparring with Boromir.

They had decided early on he'd be better suited for such things—mostly because they had complained about soreness and being unable to move when she had trained with them. Gyda knew she could be relentless when it came to training, but such things had been installed in her early on. Growing up during a time of war left no place for error. Her father had been strict and unforgiving too. Making sure that she was always prepared.

She wanted to pass that along to the Hobbits, knowing the road ahead would be full of terror and dangers unimaginable to most.

"One—"Strike, "two."—strike.

Swords clashes over the howling wind, as Merry and Pippin faced Boromir.

"Get away from the blade." Gyda calls out as Pippin barely manages to dodge the swing at his head. "On your toes, watch your feet."

Pippin picks up the notes quickly, both hands resting on the hilt of his sword as he blocks another strike from Boromir. "Good! Very good." She grins proudly and the hobbits glows with pride at the compliment.

Merry, standing next to Pippin, eagerly waits his own turn. He doesn't have to wait for long as Boromir turns to him, and in quick succession strikes at the unsuspecting Hobbit. "Always keep you guard up Merry!" Gyda scolds.

Her words only seem to encourage him as clenches his jaw, and moves quicker to block each blow of Boromir's sword with his own. "Faster!" Boromir instructs as he moves with precision.

"Watch your feet!" Gyda adds as the hobbit almost stumbles over a small rock. He quickly comes back to his senses as he swings his own sword at Boromir, who begins counting again to help him out.

"One."

Strike—counterstrike

"two."

It goes well for a couple minutes, and Gyda proudly watches on, catching Elgarain eye as she starts to plate some of the food Sam had cooked up. She's standing up to bring it over when a hiss of pain catches Gyda's attention.

She whirls around just in time to see Pippin's sword clatter to the stone while he clutches his hand close to his chest.

Boromir is wide eyed, lowering his own sword as he starts to apologize to the Hobbits.

Gyda blinks in surprise as Pippin's kicks him in the shin—shouting a quick get him at Pippin who hits him in the back with the flat end of his sword. "Never let your guard down!" They chorus together proudly and Gyda can't help the laughter that erupts from her throat at the comical sight in front of her.

Both Hobbits cling to Boromir like their lives depend on it, legs dangling and fingers grabbing at anything they can reach in order to overpower the tall man. With their combined weight it is no surprise they overtake him as he stumbles to his knees.

"finish him!" Merry exclaims as he pushes the man on his back. The two doing everything in their might to keep him down.

From the corner of her eye, she watches as Aragorn abandons the pipe he was smoking to approach the playful fight. He reaches down, ready to grab the two by the scruff of their shirts only for them both to latch onto a leg each—exchanging a wordless command—and pull as hard as they can.

Aragorn hits the ground before she can blink.

Gyda shakes her head in disbelief, pushing herself up, leaving her sword on the flattened stone. Pippin and Merry don't see her approaching—far too busy with keeping the two men on the ground.

"Useless, the both of you." She jests at the pair of men, standing behind the struggling pair of Hobbits.

She latches on to their shoulders, fingers digging in their skin to hold them in place. They simultaneously pause their onslaught to look up at the Elleth. Their eyes widening at the sight of her. Before they can muster up the courage to escape she already has Pippin thrown over her shoulder and Merry by the back of his shirt, dragging him off of Boromir.

Pippin is hitting her back, but the assault his fruitless, whilst Merry tries to dig his feet into the rough terrain to no avail.

When she is far enough away from Boromir and Aragorn, who are both standing on their feet again, she stops, throwing Pippin over her shoulder—as softly as she can, which isn't saying much.

The Hobbit coughs as his back hits the ground, pushing himself up with his elbows while Gyda drops Merry next to him. She opens her mouth to say something but before she can Sam's voice carries over the wind.

"What is that?"

Gyda pauses, eyes trailing towards the Hobbit who had spoken to see what he was looking at. In the distance, a cloud formation moves and she squints her eyes at the strange and unnatural sight.

"Nothing, it's just a whisp of clouds." Gimli denies gruffly.

"It's moving fast..." Boromir suddenly is next to her, "against the wind."

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas warns loudly, blue eyes widening.

"Hide!" Aragorn shouts.

Gyda's heartrate picks up, eyes snapping up to Elgarain who's wide eyes are focused on the sky. "Elgarain! Hide!" She shouts in desperation, knowing her queen is too far away for her to reach in time.

Elgarain's head snaps sideways to look at her. There is a flash of fear in Elgarain's eyes but it disappears quickly as she ushers both Frodo and Sam with her towards an alcove.

Gyda is moving quickly too, pushing both Merry and Pipping under a pile of rocks.

They are both shaking as they press to either side of her, and Gyda's arms wrap around their bodies pulling them closer, hands resting on their heads to keep them down. her breathing is labored, fear coursing through her body as she hopes everyone managed to scramble under what little coverage there was.

The large regiment of crows fly overhead at great speed, wheeling and circling above. The flapping of wings loud in her ears, louder than the pounding of her own heart. The dark shadows passes over the Fellowship, as if they are aware they are there. A single harsh croak is heard, a beat of silence and then the Crebain suddenly wheel away, back towards the south.

"Spies of Saruman." Gandalf had staggered to his feet, and slowly, Gyda unwinds herself from the two Hobbits who climb back to their feet. "The passage south is being watched."

Everyone is breathing heavily as they move from their hiding places and Gyda is quick to rush towards Elgarain.

Her hand clasps the skin where Elgarain's shoulder and neck meet. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright, though I can't say the same about my ears. Who knew birds could make so much noise?" She smiles softly, eyes going to the hobbits, hoping her words manage to shake the fear from their bones.

Gyda breathes out a sigh of relief and nods before turning to look at Gandalf when he speaks next. "We must reach the pass of Caradhras quickly, lest his spies return soon."

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