*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ let go ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT TWO ── audentes fortuna iuvat 🏹 ⁺⑅

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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ I DIED, YET I LIVE ❞
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3019
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚,
𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 ❞

*✧ ─── THE FOG OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS STILL CLING TO HER AS HER MIND AWAKENS, A LINGERING SEED OF HOMESICKNESS blossoms in her chest, but Gyda cannot find the reason it grows now. The melancholy lament of Gandalf still a vivid sound, even if now silence falls over Lothlorién. His memory is engraved in the way the moon shines and the winds howls softly.

Her fingers twitch, a restlessness settles in her body as her gaze fixates on the white halls of the healing room, the way vines wrap themselves around pillars carved from Mallorn trees, delicate leaves glowing under the light of the moon.

The sight draws her, whispers almost ─ words she cannot hear, maybe ones she cannot understand. It lurs her, like pulling strings on a puppet, Gyda sits. The soft sheets fall down her body, warm air brushing her aching skin. The pain only remains a dull sting thanks to the salve applied by one of the elves in between the hours of the evening.

Her heart beats a steady beat, thrumming beneath her skin ─ akin to lightning waiting to strike. The urge grows, and Gyda moves meticulously. Bare feet touch the silver stones, the cold sends a shiver down her spine.

Her eyes flicker momentarily to Legolas tucked in the corner on a wooden stool, head hanging low, hair cascading down to hide away his peaceful face. The tension in his shoulders has lessened and his chest rises steadily as he wanders the planes of sleep.

As quietly as she could, Gyda walks, pain but a distant memory. Footsteps soft, just a mere caress on the silver steps as she ascends the stairs that curve around the Mallorn Tree. Warm light captured, as if stars had descended to Middle-Earth and burrowed themselves in the crevices.

Warmth settles in her bones, at the sight before her. A small glade is spread out before her, trickling water a soothing sound to her ears and a silver glow illuminates her surroundings. Gyda moves, ready to walk down the three stone steps but she falters at the edge.

Uncertainty fills her, a shadow of doubt evades her, but she can't place the feeling as her eyes fall on the white basin in the center.

It calls to her, like a mother drawing in a child, like the sun pulling in the moon. The feeling scares her slightly, but it also grants her a feeling of safety, ─ of understanding.

She glides down the stone steps, and lets her subconscious move her forward.

The whispers grow louder, but she cannot make them out still. It is a familiar sound, one she recognizes but can't identify. Her breathing becomes shallow, her limbs feel heavier, the bandage on her arm itches.

Her arms move on their own as she lifts them, higher, higher, higher until her hands rest on the stone basin. Her skin buzzes when leans forward to peer in the depths of the water. For a moment she sees nothing but her own reflection. Tired eyes and pale skin, something akin to a ghost stands before her.

Gyda blinks, once, twice, as the water changes like the tide washing in on the shores of her home.

She sucks in a breath, and when she blinks once more her surroundings change.

The smell of the sea and her mother's flowers forces her to open her eyes.

The sun shines bright, high up in a cloudless sky. Birds sing their joyful tunes, but familiar laughter makes her look behind her.

Sitting in the shade on a worn stone bench, beneath the shade of a mighty oak tree is a girl, laughter bubbling from her throat as she swings her legs back and forward.

Next to her a man sits, clad in training armor a scabbard with a sword is disregarded on the grass next to him. The dark haired Ellon stills, and suddenly he turns his head slightly as if feeling her burning gaze and their eyes meet.

"Adar!" the girl giggles and the Ellon turns back around to face his daughter.

Gyda's breath hitches at the sight, of the memory and cannot help but walk closer. She moves slowly as if fearful a sound will startle them away.

"I shall become head of the King's Guard." The girl- a younger version of herself, exclaims proudly. "I shall become brave and wise and make you proud."

The Ellon chuckles, and as Gyda walks around the bench to look at them she can see his fond smile. "To make me proud I shall wish only to see you happy Gyda. Whatever you may do or with whoever you may be."

With a gasp, her eyes fly open, and she takes back a disorientated step, barely being able to keep her balance. A hiss escapes her lips as her wounded arm brushes against her tunic. She screws her eyes shut, banishes the tears that threaten to fall, but her father's face flashes in front of her eyes.

A shuddering breath escapes her and she cannot hold back anymore.

"Pain lives in you because you give it a home."

The tears on her cheeks are warm, her eyes glazed as she stares up. Her fingers are wrapping tightly around the basin, as if it is the only life-line keeping her upright.

"You must release yourself from it ─ " Galadriel glows like a star reborn, the purest of white she donned like the light of the moon. "Or it will consume you."

"How?" Her voice is broken, desperate for relief ─ for an answer. She clutches the fabric of tunic as if grasping her heart between her fingers. "How can I, when it is a part of me?"

How can I, when it is the only thing I have left of him?

"Grief is the price we pay for love." Galadriel tells her softly, "but it is not the end."

Gyda face twist, brows furrowing as she speaks; "It feels like the end, it has always felt like the end."

Galadriel's face softens but Gyda is not yet done. "I cannot describe the feeling, it's excruciating and yet I feel numb. My heart, it screams in pain, but there is a complete silence." She pauses, breaths deeply and says the words she has know for a long time. "I died on the planes of Mordor, and yet I live."

Gyda knows that is not the past that makes her cling to the memories. It is letting go of the future. The one she dreamed of, envisioned on that stone bench in the shade with her father by her side. The one where her father was always present, to encourage her, share his wisdom with her. The one where he would see her happy.

Her head drops, and her shoulders shake with the sobs that rack through her body. It flows out of her like heavy rainfall ─ and she cannot hold it back anymore. "I'm afraid, of forgetting him, of losing him completely."

Exhaustions wraps around her, encases her until all she can do is stand on trembling legs and peer up through her lashes.

"Gyldorn lives in you, not only in the slope of your nose or the shape of your eyes. He is in the way you talk, the way you breath and think. He is in your spirit and as you live, so does he." Galadriel steps closer to her, lets her hands rest on her weary shoulders. "He cannot be forgotten. He walks beside you, unseen, unheard but always there."

"Thank you." Is all she can say, for there are not words that can encapsulate what she feels.

"Gyda?"

Her head turns, and there stands Legolas, weary eyes filled with worry at the sight of her, before he regards Galadriel. He bows his head, "Lady Galadriel."

"Legolas Thranduillion."

Like a phantom in the night, Galadriel bids them goodbye and disappears down a twisted staircase hidden by the lush flowers and vines that glow in the night.

"Are you alright?" Legolas approaches her, careful and precise steps bring him closer to her. "I was worried when you had gone."

Warmth blossoms inside of her at his concern, at the way his hand delicately reaches to grab her hands but pause, giving her an escape.

For the first time, Gyda does not let her head rule her actions, does not let fear stop her.

She reaches out for him.

Legolas' hands grasp hers softly as he brings them closer to his chest. Soothingly his thumb glides over her skin as he waits for her to talk, or maybe to pull away again as if his touch burned her.

Their eyes meet, and peace settles over them and the world around them disappears. Drawn together, Legolas lets go of her hands before he wraps his arms securely around her. She sloths herself against his chest, fits her head perfectly in the crook of his neck as if she has done it a million times before. Her own arms wrap around his waist, fingers lacing together behind his back.

Here, in the safety of his arms she let's her tears fall, here she let's go of the first piece of her pain.

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ELVISH TRANSLATIONS
Adar — father

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Gyda's journey is very much about self healing and forgiving yourself and letting go. A part of her has always died in mordor, the part that glittered with hope and innocence. She cannot get that back, but she will learn to love again, and to be proud of who she became. It's about letting go of and imagine she dreamed to be, the one she molded after her father, the future she wanted and shared with him. Because for gyda letting go of that image of her so said perfect vision she created with her father, means forgetting him. And this point in the story is really about starting that path to healing, and living again. And by returning to mordor, the root of her pain, Gyda can finaly come at peace with the past, and most importantly make room for a new future.

It was hard to write, and this is a short chapter but I feel like this perfectly captures her next part of healing.