𝟬𝟮𝟰 ━━ beneath the pale moonlight


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˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ beneath the pale moonlight ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT TWO ── audentes fortuna iuvat 🏹 ⁺⑅

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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ YOU'RE SAFE WITH US
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR ✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3019
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝘴𝘰 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝘰𝘧 𝙢𝙚 𝘪𝘴 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝘰𝘧
𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ❞

*✧ ─── GANDALF THE GREY WAS DEAD AND GRIEF INVADES HER BODY LIKE A FOREIGN ENTITY. IT'S A RAW FEELING, FESTERING DEEP WITHIN HER SOUL. ALL SEEMS LOST in those moments where the sun shines faintly through the thick gathering of ash grey clouds and their Fellowship is no longer the same.

Gyda's heart throbs painfully in her chest, but she cannot bring herself to let the tears gathered in her eyes fall. The cries of the Hobbits are a haunting melody as the merge with the chipper sound of birdsong in the sky.

She can hear Gimli's resolute shouts as he argues with Boromir, ready to head back in the mines and defeat the evil that took their strongest ally deep in the pits of shadows and fire. From where she stands she can see Legolas staring up ahead in the distance an dazed look in his eye, while Elgarain had tugged Aragorn to the side, checking him over concernedly.

A glum air surrounds the Fellowship, one of helplessness and defeat, and Gyda easily wants to give into the ache in her heart and fall down on her knees. But closes her eyes instead, letting the calming noise of nature sooth her like a lullaby. To remind herself the journey they undertook, and the reason.

It was to protect Middle-Earth, and as long as Frodo Baggins draws breath, so does their hope at victory.

The thought of the young Hobbit makes her eyes flutter back open to spot him a little while away, standing perched on a flat rock, staring at the vast landscape. His shoulder shake in silent sobs, fingers laced through the chain holding the One True Ring.

Gyda believes, wholeheartedly that the brave blue eyed Hobbit will see this journey through. The idea brings a small spark of hope back, despite the heartbreak she endures.

It makes her think about her father— about his many lessons, and she can picture herself back home.

A young Gyda sits perched on a thick birch tree branch in her mother's garden, legs dangling in a rhythmic motion, staring at the vast landscape spreading out above the stone wall that circles their home.

Her father is seated on a stone bench, the shade from the leaves glittering on his skin like dancing shadows. He is sharpening his sword and the sound is one of Gyda's favorites.

Hazel eyes are intensely focused on each swift and precise movement, but a question sits on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be asked.

Her father, ever intune with his beloved daughter, pauses, looks up and smiles encouragingly at her.

"Were you ever afraid adar? In battle?" She wrings her hands, before hastingly brushing her hair back behind her ears as she looks down expectantly.

He hums, deep in thought. "Of course." He replies, and Gyda scoots further down the branch to get closer to him, as if he is telling her a secret. "Sometimes Gyda, the battle seems never ending, sometimes it looks like we are losing."

Gyda frowns, shaking her head in childlike innocence, "But you are the best! Nothing can ever hurt you! And if nothing can hurt you! Nothing can scare you!"

"I am but flesh and blood dilthen maethor." Gyldorn shakes his head and Gyda pouts, "We're not invincible, and sometimes the enemy might be stronger."

Gyda crosses her arms, looking off into the sunset, "But how do you fight when you're afraid?"

Gyldorn smiles, "belief."

"Belief?"

He hums, "You must belief in something worth fighting for—something no one can take away. Belief is when there is no hope, when despair has settled in like an unwelcome guest, and yet you hold fast to the certainty that is is always worth seeking the light—even if the sun will never shine again."

The words are seeds of wisdom Gyda does not fully grasp yet, but her father knows, in time, as his daughter grows, she will remember his words and understand

"I belief you're the best warrior Lindon has!" Gyda proclaims proudly, "so nothing can defeat you!"

Gyldorn chuckles but says nothing.

His family was the reason he fought— he would protect them, always, no matter the cost.

Gyda blinks, and her breathing had evened out.

The pain was worth it, fighting for good, for hope—for the light.

Gyda had to belief that.

"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn's voice resounds from behind her, and Gyda watches the man limp slightly, and she can see Elgarain's concern clearly written on her face, but she does not contradict him even if she wises to do so.

At first it looks like the Ellon hadn't even heard him. He looks lost, his eyes darting around with an uncertainty she'd never seen from him before. Gyda lingers closer, the need to grab him, assure him growing inside of her. The unexpected pull makes her falter when she goes to reach out for him—but she halts as Boromir calls out.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"

Aragorn shakes his head. "By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlórien."

"You won't make it that far," Elgarain argues as she got to her feet. "You're injured and I don't even know the extent of your wounds."

He turns to look at. "There's no time," he says.

"But-" Gyda can hear the pain in Elgarain's voice, but she knows what Aragorn says is true, and lingering here will only bring them more danger.

"Tarinya," Gyda sighs, all emotions masked. "He's right. We have to leave."

Elgarain presses her lips together and gathered her supplies without another word.

"Come on, Gyda, Legolas, get them up," Aragorn instructs as he walks towards Sam.

Gyda moves deliberately to where Merry and Pippin were seated on the ground, sobbing and clutching their tunics. Her gaze softens as the two look up at her with red, teary eyes. "Come on." She holds both hands out and slowly, they reach for a hand each.

Their grip is tight, like they are holding on to a lifeline as she hauls them up with her last bit of remaining strength. Squeezing their hands once, she let's go and leads them to follow after the others. No words will lessen the pain right now.

Side by side they follow Aragorn as he leads the way down the slopes of the Misty Mountains.

The rocky terrain made it difficult to navigate, and weariness had settled in their bones—more often than not, Gyda reaches out to steady Pippin as he maneuvered around the rocks. She's glad for Boromir's assured presence as he keeps an eye out for Merry.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they reach the foot of the mountains. Green grass stretching out around them with lines of blue streams curling through the landscape. In the distance she could see a vast forest awaiting them. The golden woods, Lothlórien.

the Lothlorién woods had always held an esteemed value for peace. It wrapped around her like blanket, warm and comforting—lulling away the pain like waves crashing against the sand.

They continue across the green planes with a fast pace. In the east the sky slowly turns into a soft pink color, weaving through the clouds and painting a glorious sight. It almost makes her forgot the horror they left behind, where Gyda was sure the Gate of Moria was now a mere speck in the distance.

When she looks ahead, it is Frodo's ghastly face that worries her. The curly haired Hobbit is staring off into the distance.

"Frodo?" She inquires softly, trying not to worry the others as she falls in step next to him.

He blinks, big blue eyes gaining a little more light again. When he looks up at her she can still see a fear in his eyes, the frown on his face an indicator of his thoughts. "What did you see?"

He swallows, almost nervously, and from the corner of her eye she watches him pat his chest quickly, before breathing in relief when he feels the presence of the ring beneath his tunic.

Gyda's finger's twitch with the idea of the ring so close, but she shakes such thoughts away. "Frodo?"

Frodo hums, wringing his hands nervously. "I-I thought I heard something."

The Elleth frown, uncertainty in her eyes—she hadn't heard anything concerning since they entered the Golden Woods. "Is..." She hesitates, "Is it the ring? Does it talk to you?"

Frodo's breath hitches, but he cannot lie to her, "Sometimes," He admits, "but this was different, it felt different."

"These woods are magical Frodo, seldom darkness manages to infiltrate here." She assures him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're safe with us, I promise."

She inhales deeply, the smell of greenery and fresh water slowly washing away the foul stench of the mines. All around her trees stood tall and proud. Watchers from ancient times guarding her kin and welcoming them. In the fading light of the sun, the trees almost appear to be made of gold as they shimmer in the light filtering through the canopy above them. Like dazzling stars made of sunshine. The evening breeze softly rustles their branches but their leaves would not fall. The leaves of the Mallorn trees only fell in the spring, when golden flowers would bloom once again, replacing the golden foliage.

Her arm flies out, pulling Frodo closer to her, and shielding her behind her body the moment her ears twitch with the familiar sound of approaching footsteps. Her other hand is already ready to pull her sword from its sheath, but the sharp tip of an arrow directed at her face makes her freeze.

Arrows were pointed at the Fellowship from all sides, some so close they almost touched their skin. Only the skillful fingers of the Elves prevented them from causing harm. Their cloaks looked as if they were made from the trees themselves, blending with their surroundings so perfectly they were almost invisible.

"The Dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," a condescending familair voice spoke.

Gyda steps up in front of the irritated dwarf, jutting her chin out, "I would like to see you try Haldir." The words are harsh, but there is a sense of familiarity in it.

There is a moment of silence before uncharacteristically, a small smile broke out on her face.

"Gyda." The elven warrior grins, albeit reluctantly with the company surrounding her.

"Aragorn, Gyda these woods are perilous, we should head back." Gimli intercepts gruffly.

"You've entered the ream of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back." Haldir's voice is soft spoken but the threat is easily distinguishable. His eyes flicker across their Fellowship, before landing on Legolas. "Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion."

"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien," Legolas replies.

"A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen," Haldir continues, bowing his head.

Aragorn bowed his head in return. "Haldir," he greets.

The Guard turns to look at Elgarain and placed his hand on his heart, bowing once again. "Mae govannen, Tarinya Elgarain. Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo."

Elgarain smiledsin return. "Gi suilon, Haldir."

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves!" Gimli grumbles. "Speak words we can all understand!"

Haldir glares at the Dwarf, no longer able to ignore him. "We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days."

"And do you know what this Dwarf says to that? Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!"

Despite not understanding the words, it was clearly meant as an insult.

Aragorn turns to the Dwarf and firmly grabs his shoulder. "That was not so courteous!"

Haldir simply straightenes his back, his eyes going to the Hobbits in their midst, lingering on Frodo..." You bring great evil with you." He turns back to look at Aragorn. "You can go no further!"

Gyda braces her shoulders, stepping closer to the Ellon. "We've come to seek passage and safety in your home—" Haldir glances at Gimli, "The dwarf will try his best to steady his breathing." The jest makes Gimli grunt, crossing his arms over his chest.

"They need rest and safety." Gyda continues, eyes drifting towards the trembling Hobbits, her eyes resting on Frodo, who still seems as spooked as he did before. Haldir follows her gaze, a knowing flash crosses his expression.

In hush voices, the elves spoke together, glances of distaste casted at Gimli who mutters under his breath in his own tongue. "Very good." Haldir speaks at last, turning to face the Fellowship. "We will do this, though it is against our liking. If Aragorn and Legolas will guard the Dwarf, and answer for him, he shall pass; but he must go blindfold through Lothlórien."

Gimli opens his mouth to protest, but Gyda nudges his side roughly and Haldir continues, "But now we must debate no longer. Your folk must not remain on the ground. We have been keeping watch on the rivers, ever since we saw a great troop of Orcs going north towards Moria, along the skirts of the mountains, many days ago. Wolves are howling on the wood's borders. If you have indeed come from Moria, the peril cannot be far behind. Tomorrow early you must go on."

A sudden spark of grief rushes through her, raw and unexpected. The loss of Gandalf still fresh and aching—she does not know how devastating it must be for the young Hobbits, to be faced with such a cruel end.

"The four hobbits shall climb up in the trees and stay with us – we do not fear them! There is another talan in the next tree. There the others must take refuge. You, Legolas, must answer to us for them. Call us, if anything is amiss! And have an eye on that dwarf!"

Haldir's words bring her back to the present and silently, Gyda moves to the Hobbits—they are still teary eyed and bleak as they shuffle forward with their heads handing low.

With a steady hand on both Pippin and Merry's shoulder, Gyda watches whilst the two Hobbits clamber up on the high flet with slight difficulty, carrying their blankets. The events of the day clearly drained them to the bone.

Next, Frodo and Sam ascend the ladder, movements slow and cautious as they disappear among the tree leaves and branches.

Elgarain is next, the High-Queen casting one last look at the others still on the ground before climbing up with Aragorn close behind.

Gyda moves next, looking over her shoulder at the vast landscape of the Lothlorien woods and the last rays of golden sunlight striking through the leaves.

Pushing herself off of the ground, Gyda climbs—knowing rest will not come easily tonight.
















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𝘵𝘰 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧, 𝘵𝘰 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰
𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

friedrich nietzsche




















ᵒ .༄ ࿐ ࿔* 🏹🌋🪨
⋆⋅ ━━━━ ‧ ༻✩༺ ‧ ━━━━ ⋅⋆
third age ━━ year 3019

SILENCE RULES THE LOTHLORIEN WOODS—NO RUSTLING LEAVES OR HOWLING WIND, THE SICKLE MOON was gleaming dimly among the leaves, filtering through in small beams that painted the flet like stars in the night sky.

Gyda is sitting cross-legged on a singular branch looking out at the hushed woods. Her sword is on her lap, the wet stone casted to the side as she stares ahead—waiting for the shadows reveal their pursuers.

But the peace does not last, like mist clearing away, shrill howls and thundering feet echo on the ground below. Keen elven eyes focus, and slowly like phantoms, the orcs appear, teeth bared and curled in ugly sneers.

Gyda can taste the foul smell in the air, and she's up in mere seconds, sword gleaming in the pale moonlight. Behind her the others stir at the sudden onset of noise.

Gyda can feel a presence beside her, and the warmth is familiar. "They have found us." The timbre of Legolas' voice still carries a bit of sleep in it as he speaks.

The brunette nods, worried hazel eyes looking over her shoulder at the rest of the Fellowship and a couple of Haldir's patrol. They all stand, weapons ready as their enemies comes closer, the ground shaking and Gyda catches a couple of leaves falling from higher branches.

With haste, Gyda unfastens the clip of her green cloak, and it falls on the ground. With quick steps she finds Elgarain, hand curling around her spear, determination flashing in her eyes.

"Should I attempt to ask you to stay here?" Gyda asks whilst the Lothlorien elves gather their arrows.

"Perhaps you should but we both know the answer, don't we?" She smiles.

Gyda chuckles, "It was worth a try." She shrugs before leaping off of the flet, feet hitting the ground as she lands crouched down on the ground, her sword digging into the earth.

Her eyes flash dangerously at the approaching group of Orcs, and Gyda rips her sword free, steadies her stance and waits with her sword raised as the other elves flank her sides.

The sound of bowstring being pulled makes her look to her left to see Legolas, moonlight bouncing off of his pale hair. For a moment it reminds her of the Mirkwood—the spiders.

The arrow whizzes passed her, wind brushing against her cheek and like a signal, chaos ensues the moment the first Orc topples over. More arrows are released as the Orcs charge forward, screaming.

They fall down, but the steady onset of arrows is no match for the mighty numbers hellbent on revenge.

Gyda dashes forward to meet the onslaught, sword raising as she slices through the first orc that reaches her. It gurgles on its own blood, swinging wildly in an attempt to bring her down too. Gyda easily kicks it back, making the dying orc fall into the one behind it.

An arrow lodges itself in the head of an orc next to her, before she can feel a warm back pressed against her own. Turning in circles, they work together as if they are one body, one mind.

Jutting her sword forward, she pierces the skin of an approaching orc, but the blow is not deadly as the orc brings its own weapon down. she catches it on the leather armbrace, but the sharp edge still manages to cut through.

She hisses as blood gushes from the wound, the leather unwrapping itself and falling to the ground. Retrieving a small dagger from her side, she waste no time, stabbing the orc in the side of the head. It limply falls down, and black blood smears her clothes.

"Gyda?" Legolas breaths out worriedly.

"Worry not." She replies, catching his blue gaze, "I'll be fine."

She flexes her hand, as if easing the pain in her forearm before gripping her sword with both hands again. She sways slightly on her feet before steadying herself with a deep breath.

Swinging with a mighty force, Gyda decapitates the orc leaping at her, just as another arrow flies passed her.

Slowly the group of orcs thins out, some fleeing and others no match for their might as they work in tandem. Wiping away the sweat from her brow, Gyda only manages to smear more blood across her skin. Her limbs are trembling with effort, energy depleting with each passing second.

One final orc stands, charging and Gyda watches as Aragorn steadies himself, slightly limping but holding his sword up despite it. Legolas already has his bow up in the air but before he can let it fly, a spear barrels through the air, impaling the chest of the orc with such force, it flies through the creature, lodging the sharp metal tip in a tree.

Gyda let's her eyes fall on Elgarain, still standing with her arm outstretched heaving in air.

Silence rules the Lothlorien woods once more, and suddenly the pain in her arm feels like fire.

Gyda grunts, stumbling forward, clutching her arm with a vicious grip, but still blood keeps oozing. Her vision blurs, and she blinks trying to focus.

A rigid breath escapes her dried lips, and suddenly Legolas is in front of her, brows pulled together in a frown. She tilts her head as white noise fills her ears. She can see his lips move, but she cannot make the words out.

"Legolas?"

Her world goes dark, and the last thing she feels is the comfort of his arms around her.


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AUTHOR'S NOTE
ANGST ANGST AND EVEN MORE ANGST! Next chapter is gonna have even more ANGST + a very nice little legolas/gyda (They need a shipname 😵‍💫) moment! Or not ehehhe😈 please let me know your thoughts! I love to hear/read them! Lots of love

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS

dilthen maethor
little warrior

tarinya
queen

Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion
Welcome, Legolas son Thandruil.

Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien
Our fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lorien.

A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen
Oh, Aragorn of the Dunedain, you are known to us.

Mae govannen, Tarinya Elgarain. Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo Welcome, Queen Elgarain. A star shines upon the hour of our meeting.

Gi suilon, Haldir
I greet you, Haldir.

dilthen maethor
little warrior

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