𝟬𝟮𝟯 ━━ cry when it's over
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˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ cry when it's over ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT TWO ── audentes fortuna iuvat 🏹 ⁺⑅
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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ TOGETHER ❞
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE ✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3019
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘺
𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝘢𝘵 𝙙𝙖𝙬𝙣 ❞
*✧ ─── WITH HER HEART POUNDING IN HER CHEST, AND THE SHRILL CRIES OF THEIR ENEMIES FLOATING THROUGH THE TOMB AS THEY GAVE CHASE THROUGH THE DARK, GYDA tried not to let the eerie warning that echoed through the ancient hallways distract her. Her eyes scanned the corridors with deadly precision, her ears prickling with each sound that floated from the dark.
With a steady pace, Gyda was running, the light of Gandalf's staff guiding them to safety, but from the shadows Orcs came jumping out of cracks and holes, climbing the crumbling pillars that rose from the depths of the ancient dwarven city. Her knuckles whitened from the tight grip on the pommel of her sword, and adrenaline-filled blood rushed through her veins like fire.
An Orc jumped down from the ceiling, cackling and crazed as it came hurling down at her. Gyda skids to an halt, ducking under the reaching arm of the Orc, the rotten smell of flesh and blood clogging up her noise. Unsheathing her sword, both hand gripping, she brought it back with great force.
Black blood splatters her skin, dripping from her sword as she moves to catch up with the others before the body even hits the ground. Feet pounding on the rocks, as she jumps around fallen statues and broken stones. Ahead of her, down the center stalked a double line of towering pillars. They were carved like boles of mighty trees whose boughs upheld the roof with a branching tracery of stone. Their stems were smooth and black, but a red glow was darkly mirrored in their sides. Right across the floor, close to the feet of two huge pillars a great fissure had opened. Out of it a fierce red light came, and now and again flames licked at the brink and curled about the bases of the columns. Wisps of dark smoke wavered in the hot air. There was something dark about the flames, like they whispered promises of evil. The heat felt different, and for a terrifying moment, they reminded her of the flames of Mordor.
She shakes her head, banishing the idea, and blaming the adrenaline for her fears before she dashes around a corner where she sees the rest of the Fellowship comes to a sudden halt behind Gandalf as more Orcs come crawling down from the ceiling and fell to the ground.
Without having to exchange a single word, the Fellowship forms a circle around the Hobbits. Gyda glances behind her as she feels Pippin grip the back of her cloak with one hand, the other holding his sword up with mock bravado.
The orcs had them completely surrounded, their numbers far too great to count their howls and shrill war cries echoing in the cavern they found themselves in. The pale light of their guide only reveals a small part of them but, beyond the light further into the shadows, like phantoms, more evil awaits them—blood-thirsty and aching for a taste of flesh.
Worry fills her like it hadn't in a long, long time. It makes a shiver of fear crawl up her spine, and another memory flashes through her, she can almost smell the smoke and clenches her jaw. Her muscles are taunt, but she shakes away her dark thoughts to focus on the moment.
Gyda dares not to think of failing, not with the fate of Middle-Earth depending on their success. Not with the idea of failing to protect Elgarain, and the small, joyful Hobbits standing oh so bravely behind them. It reminds her of the Elfings back home, the way they still hold such innocence, and so much courage and pride.
It reminds her of herself in those days, when her legacy had been something she carried with ease and a silent strength. The way she had loved ever moment of her training, every marching order and chance to prove exactly why she deserved the warrior mantle of her forefathers.
It breaks her heart a little, to think she had lost such joy—how her legacy had become a burden, chaining her down.
Gyda knows, deep within herself, that she needs to find it again, and she vows silently, standing next to Elgarain that she will. A warrior lived in her, it ran through her veins like blood, and she prided herself in such things.
It was time to remind herself.
If they made it out alive at least.
Gyda steadies her breathing, squaring her shoulders, and a calmness she forgotten she had overcomes her. Her rushed thoughts slow down, and only the hum of battle runs through her.
Even if they did not make it through the hour, she would go die fighting, bloodied and screaming if she must.
More yellow eyes glim in the darkness, a glint of hunger in their eyes, saliva dripping down, rotten teeth bared in a taunting grin with the promise of a painful death.
A sudden deep, rumbling, roar made the ground tremble and the walls shake. As though the mountain itself had awoken to rain down its fury upon them all. But the most haunting fact was the Orcs, who stilled, a fearful rumble as they shifted.
Not much would bring terror to such evil creatures, and Gyda knew that whatever was at the source of such sound, would be deadly. Gyda juts her chin up, face morphing into a stoic mask of strength.
A raging howl of pure fury bounced through the corridors, rumbling as dust fell from the sky like ash.
The darkness was driven away by an ominous yellow light at the far end of the immense hall. High flames paint flickering silhouettes along the walls as the air turns dry and hot. It makes Gyda's skin crawl, the heat unnatural.
A second roar follows and the hairs on her arms raise in a foreboding warning of danger.
fearful screams and trembling limbs, the orcs retreat into the darkness, crawling back into their holes and caves. And as quickly as they'd entrapped the Fellowship, they had disappeared again.
Gyda's chest rises and fall steadily despite the nerves and her hammering heart as she stands while the flames grew brighter and the heavy footsteps slowly came nearer.
"What is this new devilry?" Boromir mutters fearfully.
Gandalf was silent, the tall and towering wizard had his eyes closed, the furrow of his brow indicating his deep thoughts—or perhaps fear. Gyda felt her steel posture weaken at the sight of genuine fear in his eyes. "A Balrog," he speaks quietly, as if afraid of merely speaking its name would summon it from the dark chasm ahead. "A demon of the ancient world."
Durin's bane Gyda's mind supplies her. Her father had once told her about the greed of the dwarves. The price they would pay if they didn't stray from the allure of gems and gold.
"This foe is beyond any of you. Run!" Gandalf warns, voice bellowing.
The fear and urgency within Gandalf's voice got them all moving immediately. A third roar made the walls shake, as though the Balrog could sense their retreat. Their hurried footsteps echoed through the hallways, now empty of any life but theirs. But no matter how fast they ran, the flames followed them everywhere they went, burning brighter with each step they seemed to take.
They left the Dwarf-city behind and entered a narrow hallway with smooth chiseled walls. With the Hobbits still in the middle of the line, they hurried forward. They passed underneath a large archway, exiting the tunnel where a staircase awaited them. Boromir took the lead and hurried down the stairs.
Gyda found herself next to Legolas, the elven prince glancing sideways at her, blue eyes reflecting worry and she was sure hers held the same sentiment. She gripped her sword tighter, chest constricting as fear gripped her heart like a vice as she watches Boromir's sudden halt, flailing his arms desperate to keep his balance and not fall in the dark chasm in front of him and disappear in the flames below.
Gyda was glad, that Elgarain manages to grab Boromir's arm, pulling him away from the edge and saving him from certain death.
"Watch your feet, soldier," Elgarain jested with a small smile, but there was a tremor of fear in her voice that Gyda recognized easily. It reminded her of the days of Elgarain's youth, their journey to Rivendell and the danger the young Elleth had faced.
"I would be foolish to refuse the advice of an Elven Healer." The man replies, nodding his head in a gesture of thanks.
Something was coming up from the depths, it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and to go before it.
Terror coursed through her, and Gyda knew it was the Balrog.
It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. Its streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire
"This way!" Gandalf shouts, pointing to another staircase on their right. "The bridge is near!" When they took just a moment too long to gather themselves, the Wizard raised his voice. "Do as I say! Swords are no more use here."
Gyda nudges the Hobbits forward, letting the tiniest of their company move with haste as she follows quickly behind them.
As they dash down the stairs, the heat of the flames grew, and her skin swelters, clinging to her like a shadow. A ominous glow cascaded from the darkness, like a false promise of hope.
The stone staircase twists and turns as it led them further down, the narrow paths closing in on them and forcing them to form a single line.
Their retreat was halted by a gap in the bridge ahead. The years seemed to have taken their toll upon the craftsmanship of the Dwarves. The stone had crumbled and given in to time. As fate would have it, the gap wasn't that big.
Legolas jumps first, light on his feet as always. He lands gracefully and immediately turned back around, gesturing for the Wizard to follow him. Gandalf did so without hesitation, surprisingly agile for a man of his appearance.
Gyda's hairs raised on the back of her neck, and she steps sideways before the whizzing noise had even reached her ears. She could feel the wind as the arrow brushed passed her, a small sting on her cheek that made her hiss under her breath.
Blood trickled down her cheek but she ignored it as the arrow lodged itself in the stones where Gandalf had stood only moments before. She whipped her head around, keen elven eyes searching the dark. Several orcs seemed to have taken it upon themselves to taunt their enemy to their very last breath. They stand upon the edge on the other side of the chasm, firing their arrows at the Fellowship.
A pained scream came from the darkness and Gyda watches as an orc topples over the edge, flailing limbs and haunting screams. Without looking, Gyda knows it is Legolas who protects them.
"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir shout brings her back, and she watches as the Gondorian warrior gathers the two Hobbits beneath both his arms and leaps across the other side.
Legolas catches the man while Gandalf pulls the two Hobbits to safety. But the stairs cracked beneath the weight. They stagger backwards as another part of the stairs crumbled and fell to the depths, making the gap even larger.
"Sam!" Aragorn urges, not wasting a single second. He grabs the Hobbit and with one, forceful throw, tosses the Hobbit to the other side.
Boromir catches him and looks him over, making sure he was all right. Only when Sam affirms that he was, did the man release him.
Meanwhile, Aragorn had turned to Gimli, who shook his head in reply. "Nobody tosses a Dwarf!"
Gyda's ears prickle as another whistle reaches her, and Gyda raises her sword, her reflection staring back at her for a moment, before an arrow bounces off of the steel and clatters to the ground.
"Not to fret, lass. Dwarves are surprisingly light on their feet."
Gyda turns around just as Gimli hurls himself across the gap.
His feet land firmly on the other side but the rest of his body had difficulty catching up. Pulled down by the weight of his armor, he slowly tumbles backwards with flailing arms but Legolas was quick to react and grab a hold of Gimli's red-haired beard.
"Not the beard!"
Barely able to suppress a roll of his eyes, Legolas pulled the Dwarf to safety.
Noticing the rigid posture of Elgarain, Gyda knows the High-Queen worries for their safety, and perhaps the daring jump in front of her. Reaching out, she latches onto Elgarain's arm. She can visibly see Elgarain relax, a breath of relief escaping her lips.
Gyda comes standing at her side. "Together." It was not a request.
Without even thinking about it, Elgarain grabs Gyda's hand.
Gyda squeezes her hand and in perfect unison the two Elleths took the leap to the other side and land with perfect grace on the other side, both immediately turning around, ready to catch the last remaining two of their Fellowship.
Rocks tumble down in a cloud of dust as the highest part of the broken stairs begins to crumble beneath the feet of Aragorn and Frodo. Fear crawls through Gyda's veins at the sight of the two stumbling to keep their balance.
Aragorn is urging the Hobbit forward, holding tightly on to his green cloak, just as the last piece holding the weathered stairs attached to the rocky cliff breaks.
They slide forward, fast and when they jump, every part of her body tenses, and beside her, she can hear Elgarain gasp. But their leap of faith is rewarded, as both Elleth's reach out to meet the two halfway.
Gyda's hold is tight on Frodo's cloak, and the Hobbit clutches onto her arm with a deadly grip whilst, Elgarain is steadying Aragorn's worn out figure.
As more parts of the carven stairs tumble into the deep and haunting darkness below them, triumph lingers in her body at the sight of the gathered Orcs with no way to chase them. But there is not time to waste, and Gyda is quick to place Frodo back on his own two feet before pushing the Ringbearer forward.
"We need to make haste." This time her gaze latches onto Elgarain as she speaks, the High-Queen, as if sensing her worries looks away from brushing aside Aragorn's hair to nod at her.
"Over the bridge!" Gandalf's voice bellows over the chaos as he guides them forward, their pace quick and swift as the maneuver around the fallen rumble and gaping holes.
The heat from the flames rising around them lick at her skin, the embers cracking with a taunting whisper as they run, passing Gandalf who stands, keen grey eyes observing the dancing flames with a worrisome expression.
Gyda knows deep in her heart, that the Balrog is getting closer, prowling about in the shadows. Without much thought, the brunette finds herself falling behind Elgarain, letting the High-Queen pass her as she falls in line with Legolas.
The two elves both knowing more danger is coming, much sooner rather than later.
As if the mere thoughts had summoned the demon, a loud, terrifying growl rings out over the mines, making the ground quack and the walls tremor. The sound rattles her bones, and her nerves as she catches a glimpse of the enormous creature, stalking behind them, the flames clinging to its skin.
With every step that it takes, the ground moves, and dust and rocks fall from the ceiling, but salvation is close, and Gyda can almost taste the hope that lingers in the air at the sight of the small and narrow bridge, rising from the shadows like beacon of light.
Her pace quickens as she heaves in a deep breath, as one by one, they move across the narrow path, but there is a nagging feeling in her gut, so similar to the horror she had felt on the plains of Mordor that makes her turn to look over her shoulder.
"No." the words are breathless at the sight; Gandalf stands tall and proud, his hand holding his staff tightly and he's unwavering as the Balrog comes closer...and closer—closer.
"No!" She screams, she cannot have anyone dying, not again not when safety is close, but the moment she moves to take a step forward, and hand latches on her wrist. The grip is strong, and unrelenting as she tries to tug free.
"You cannot pass!" Gandalf's voice thunders through the mines.
"Gyda you can't."
Legolas.
She whirls her head around, hazel eyes pleading as she stares into his own, an argument is on the tip of her tongue, but there is something in his eyes, something akin too—no. She lets such thoughts fade away.
"You can't." He repeats, pulling her back to the others who stare, terrified at the sight of Gandalf facing off against the Balrog.
Flames rise, higher and higher and higher, the heat crawling around the stone mines is suffocating, she can faintly hear Frodo shouting, screaming—pleading for Gandalf but the sound feels far away, and she knows in an eerily similar way, this feels exactly how she felt when her father died.
She had screamed and pleaded, holding on to his cold body until the sun had risen, and now history was repeating itself right in front of her.
"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor—" Gandalf's voice rose with every word he spoke, the light from his staff burning brighter each second, "The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Uddn!"
A sword of scalding flames appeared in the claw of the Balrog as it raised its arm, fear gripped her as the demon brought it down upon Gandalf. But the Grey wizard prevailed as the sword bounced off of his staff, making the evil creature stumbling back, roaring indignantly.
For a moment relief flooded her veins—he could win. She thought, hoped.
"Go back to the shadow."
The creature roared and his flaming sword morphed into a whip, lashing it around in anger.
"You shall not pass!" Gandalf brought his staff and sword down together, the might of it send a gust of wind, and Gyda's hair flew backwards as she braced herself.
A bright light flashed before her eyes and she watches as the stone bridge the Balrog stood upon shattered.
A grin befell her lips, but it was short lived as in one final counter attack the Balrog let his whip fly through the air, the strong swipe precise enough the wrap around Gandalf's feet.
The Grey Wizard tumbled, grunting out in surprise as he fell down, clinging to the ledge in a feebly attempt.
"No! No!" Frodo move to rush to his side, but Boromir held him back, "Gandalf!" Anguish filled his voice.
"Fly you fools." Gyda closes her eyes and tilts her head sideways, not able to bear the sight of losing their friend.
"No!"
She knows Gandalf is gone then and there's a lump in her throat—it's only then she notices, Legolas is still holding her wrist. His thumb is rubbing soothing circles in her skin.
"—da, Gyda" He's suddenly in front of her, both hands holding her face and she blinks. "We have to go."
Tearing her teary eyes gaze away from the Mirkwood prince, she steps back and his hands fall limply by his side. She manages to nod, but her hands tremble.
She takes in a shaky, deep breath, steading the emotions that are swelling inside of her like a raging sea. She want to fall to her knees, turn back time, but she can't. And she can't stop to dwell on such thoughts.
Cry when it's over. Her father's words echo in her head. you still have a job to do.
Frodo's haunting shouts resound as Boromir drags him to safety, urging the other Hobbits to follow him, Elgarain stands next to Aragorn, and Gyda watches as the Elleth moves to reach out for his hand, only to hover just before she reaches him.
There is an hesitation, before she promptly grabs his hand, pulling him with her to the exist.
As the High-Queen moves, so does Gyda, shadowing her steps faithfully, and she is only vaguely aware of Legolas following right on her heel.
Bright light flood her senses as Gyda reaches the top of the stairs, the cool breeze greets her like a long lost friend, and the sun kisses her skin. It feels peaceful, calm, but all Gyda can focus on is the loss that grips her like a vice.
She stares at the vast landscape ahead of her.
Cry when it's over.
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