One Flesh, One Soul. Part 2 by FellFireFan  

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Farewell, My Own True Love

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Ladros

445 A.D

 

In the hearth's warm embrace, a fair haired woman of middle age carefully arranged logs upon the crackling fire, casting a soft, glow that lit the room. Only a few lines adorned her eyes. A testament to a life well-lived and enjoyed to the full. Standing behind her, her elderly aunt exuded a dignified presence, while long, unbound strands of silver tresses stretched neatly past her shoulders and down her sleek back. Time had etched its mark upon Andreth, with furrows of weariness and faded beauty adorning her brow. Yet, her eyes, though dimmed by the passage of years, still retained a hint of vibrant life. And her serene smile bespoke an enduring gratitude towards her beloved niece. Delicate, vein-laden hands clutched a walking stick, guiding her slow, deliberate steps towards the waiting bed.

"Tonight, dear aunt, you shall find solace in the warmth of the hearth," the rich voice of her niece graced the room with a tender reverence. Placing a supportive hand upon the elderly woman's back. With hands that trembled, she handed over her cane, and beneath the covers, she eased herself in with a groan of weariness, her tired bones creaking and clicking with long life's use. Slowly, she settled down, allowing her slender, fragile body respite from the burdens of age.

"This winter has proven to be exceptionally severe. At times, I had believed it might be my last," Andreth jested. Her wit as sharp as ever.

"You have countless winters yet to witness," Hirwen laughed softly, carefully tucking in the sheets and adjusting the pillow with tender care. "You shall not depart from us soon!"

"Draw near, Hirwen, allow me to behold your face," Andreth beckoned, extending her shaking hand out. Yielding to her aunt's request, she gracefully descended to her knees beside her. "Ah, indeed, you are fair as the winter snow." She murmured. "I only wish your mother could have known you."

"My true mother, Variel?" She asked and turned sad, "Father never did speak of her, even after he had remarried and had many more children," she added sadly, her gaze descending sorrowfully to the ground. "How I wish I knew what she looked like," she sighed wistfully.

Andreth smiled upon her beloved niece, who had been like a daughter to her, "You need not look far, child," she said, cradling her face in her shaking aged hand. "You have her likeness, how she warmed my heart when I was a young woman, with the wind in my hair and a fire in my spirit. Now look at me, a withering old lady. There was no fear in her eyes in her final hours. It is in such a manner that I aspire to meet my own demise,"

"You still possess immense strength within you," Hirwen insisted.

"Child," Andreth replied. "I am the last scion of my noble house. Soon, I shall join my mother and father, brother, and sister in the next world, as sure as the winds of change," Andreth replied weakly, her gaze locked with Hirwen's eyes "I welcome this next journey, and when I pass, I shall finally have peace for my poor heart, burdened with old age and longings, long gone."

Hirwen rose and turned away. Wiping away a solitary tear. Hidden from Andreths gaze. "When you speak such things, I can not bear it," she croaked.

"I shall miss you deeply, my child," Andreth whispered. Slowly, Hirwen turned to the only mother she had ever known and leaned in. She placed a tender kiss upon her warm brow.

"Sleep well, beloved aunt," she whispered and turned up the sheets. After placing a few more logs onto the cosy fire, Hirwen left with a gentle sweep of the door.

In solitude, Andreth gently cast aside the covers enveloping her lap, and with a determined grip on her walking aid, slowly elevated herself once again. Limping towards the window, she unlatched the shutters, allowing her gaze to venture into the night. The frigid air pierced her very bones, eliciting an instinctive recoil, yet even the biting gusts failed to dissuade her. The wind, in its capricious dance, playfully swathed her flowing tresses. Like a spectral figure graced by the night's embrace, she stood as the breeze tenderly caressed her weathered flesh. Her watery eyes traversed the horizon as she inhaled deeply, savouring a liberating breath.

The melancholic smile etched upon her face, and she summoned the visions of her youthful days. Those moments spent basking in the sun's warm embrace, her steed saddled between her legs, carefree and unburdened. Alas, those days seemed a distant memory now. In that fleeting instant of clarity, his face haunted her thoughts once more. His eyes, intense with fire, burned their gaze into her mind.

She covered her face with trembling hands, surrendering her thoughts to the wayward winds. Despite the pain and sadness she was made to endure for so long, still, her heart pined for him. Her lips still desired his. She wept into her palms, mourning the life that should have been hers, snatched away.

On this fateful night, the stars bestowed upon her a spectacle surpassing all earthly beauty, wrenching her mind from its depths of desolation. A surge of thousands or more stars streaked across the ebony canvas, an ethereal ballet of luminous trails. Shooting over her head. Transfixed, her weathered lips stretched into a wide grin, as the night sky came to life, enveloping her in an embrace of wonder and awe.

Beneath the vast expanse of the heavens, the same spectacle of stellar radiance also graced the skies above Angband. Standing alone upon the towering ramparts, Aegnor, with a solemn gaze, beheld the cosmic display of celestial beauty unfurling before him. The very atmosphere surrounding Angband, tainted by noxious fumes, altered the light emanating from the blanket of shooting stars, transforming the heavens into a resplendent display of captivating, shooting colours. A cloak of thick warm fur draped over his suit of armour, Aegnor observed them in profound silence. In his vacant eyes, he shed his anguished tears.

"If she was destined to be mine... why could it not just be so?"

Unable to hold back his tears, he unleashed his feä to the heavens, offering it freely to the Valar, beseeching them to relieve him of its burden.

As if propelled by a force, it burst forth from his very being. Radiant wisps of brilliant blue light soared like a celestial torpedo towards the lofty expanse of the sky, unseen by all save for the watchful gaze of Ilúvatar, who took notice of its brilliance. The feä ignited with its resplendent light, compelling the darkness to yield. Weightless, it lingered in the air as if yearning to traverse the horizons. It was the anguished cry of a lonesome feä, denied union with its true love.

Gazing upon the stars, Andreth found her mind ensnared by a sense of wonder, yet suddenly, seized by an overwhelming sadness that utterly engulfed her, surging through her with an intensity that defied comprehension. Clutching her chest, she surrendered herself to uncontrollable weeping, the weight of this mysterious sorrow not solely her own, but her true love's, Aegnor was reaching for her. Hearts condemned to be a part, weeping as one, Yearning for the other's touch.

In that poignant moment, the realization washed over her—the truth she had been blind to for all those years revealed, — Aegnor loved her with all his heart, and his absence was not of his own choice.

Her heart swelled with love once more. Revitalising her as it did in the days of her youth. Hearts beating as one once more. As if carried upon the wind, her feä voice reached the ears of her beloved elf beneath the shower of stars, across the vast terrain that separated them. "I love you, always,"

 

Aegnor raised his head toward the heavens from his anguished stupor, and his extreme sadness gave way to unparalleled joy that flowed from him, and he smiled toward the wind. The same throws of joy burst through her also. As the wind dared to knock her down, Andreth was unyielding like a statue. The strength she felt from his feä pouring into her in a fleeting moment of connection after so long apart, and Aegnor felt the comfort from hers.

Like a fleeting ghost, the winds subsided, and all returned as though it never was. But both Andreth and Aegnor shared one final moment of their love. Though fleeting, it revitalised them and reassured them. Their love ever strong and never fading.

 

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Ladros

454 A.D

 

Immersed in a state of bedridden suffering, Andreth laid upon her back, nestled in the embrace of her bed, basking in the depths of a deep slumber. Her vigour had waned completely, leaving her bereft of all strength. Only the gentle rise and fall of her chest betrayed any semblance of vitality within her frail form. As her life dwindled to a thread, her cherished memories followed suit, fading into oblivion. Within the confines of the chamber, the firelight danced with spectral ardour, casting undulating shadows that shielded against the night's wintry chill. She found solace within the realm of her dreams. There, the shackles of age and pain relinquished their hold. Having embraced life's fullness, contentment washed over her as she awaited the imminent arrival of her eternal end.

Amidst the stillness of warm bed chambers, a dark, cloaked figure loomed at the window's threshold, casting a silhouette upon the room. With an ethereal grace belonging only to the Eldar, he ascended over the pane, descending upon the ground. His elven boot landing with a silent footfall, as if treading upon sacred ground.

Once within the chamber, a sense of unease manifested in each deliberate movement. With a measured intent, the figure drew back his hood. unveiling the beauty of the face concealed within. Fixated upon Andreth, his expression bore the burdens of many mournful regrets. Driven by a need to see his beloved lady one last time.

With measured, respectful steps, Aegnor drew near, his gaze unwavering as it fell upon the fragile and elderly woman before him. Her pale, veiny hands lay tenderly upon her chest. Aegnor reached and gently took her icy hand. But she did not stir, only the faint rising and falling of her chest offered him some assurance that she still drew breath. He sagged down sadly beside her upon the bed where she lay. His eyes poured into her, taking in every detail of her features. Her hair, once black and beautiful, grew white like pure snow. Her face, old and gaunt. Though Aegnor saw not the wrinkles on her face, or the weathering tides of time. He saw only her beauty, as flawless as stars.

"Andreth?" his gentle whisper called to her. Yet not even his voice could rouse her. His shaking breath escaped him. His numb heart beaten by the years her separation has inflicted upon him.

He continued, "I sense an impending doom upon my horizon. My time in this world is coming to an end," a pause lingered heavy with deep sadness, "This, I pledge as my final goodbye to you. My sweetest love and my most cherished friend," he croaked.

Slowly, Aegnor untied the cross lace at his neck and reached within. From his clothing, he removed his silver, pendant necklace, a gift from his mother, and had never parted from his skin henceforth. He gently placed it on her breast upon her heart. With these final gifts, he surrendered all his earthly possessions that had once held deep significance to him.

As his tears fell, he leaned forward, lowering his lips to her face. His lips touched hers as she lay beneath him. He lingered. The sweet kiss unbreaking between them. The bittersweet farewell to his saviour, and his true love. Reluctantly, Aegnor rose, his hood casting a shadow over his tense face. His gaze lingered upon Andreth's still form one last time.

Silently slipping away through the window, his movements as soft as a whisper in the night, Aegnor left behind the santuary of his heart, close to his beloved. Never to lay eyes upon her again.

 

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Angband

Dagor Bragollach

455 A.D.

 

The ears of the elves were violated by the sudden deafening explosion eliciting a piercing scream to all unfortunate enough to hear it. A pillar of flames mixed with gas surged thousands of feet into the air. Alerted, Aegnor and Angrod made their way to the vantage point upon the wall only to be faced with a harrowing sight, the lifeless bodies of their fallen comrades, poisoned by the toxic fumes that had breached their defences. Coughing violently from the gasses, the brothers retreated into the sanctuary within the walls and readied for battle. Sending a messenger to Nargothrond, they called for Finrod's aid for Morgoth had returned. The messenger galloped with speed, hastening in his mission as Angrod and Aegnor prepared their soldiers for a great and foreboding battle.

Orcs surged forth from the fiery crater, swarming across the vast plain of Angband, marching in their thousands toward the elven wall that guarded Dorthonion. The resounding roars and rhythmic thumping of metal created a terrifying spectacle, but Aegnor and Angrod stood firm, rallying their army. At their side, packs of ferocious, trained wolves barked furiously at the coming hordes, held back by lines of chains, their loyal companions throughout the siege. They instilled order in their ranks and bolstered the spirits of their warriors.

The clash erupted with a ferocity that was both violent and brutal. Malevolent black fireballs, akin to torpedoes, hurtled towards the majestic walls, shattering their defences into heaps of rubble and dust. A relentless tide of orcs surged into the realm, leaving a trail of elven slaughter in their wake. However, amidst the chaos, the fear that Aegnor instilled in the hearts of the orcs held them at bay. He fought tirelessly, driven by a blazing inferno of determination. Valiantly, he shielded his soldiers from the first of the onslaught.

The elf prince stood urging the elven warriors onward. He pushed them back against the overwhelming forces arrayed against them. Having triumphed over the first wave of orcs, the elven lords rallied their brethren to the vast expanse of the open plain. In a display of unison, the elven army swiftly regained their disciplined formation, aligning their ranks with precision. Guided by the formidable leadership of the princes charged together in a mighty display of defiance of Morgoth and all he stood for.

In the dark lord's ultimatum of submission or death, the elves of Dorthonion had chosen death, standing united in their undeterred resolve to meet their end as one. Arrows and searing torrents of fire mercilessly descended upon them, unleashed by the soaring dragons ominously dominating the skies. Towering abominations, accompanied by Balrogs and enslaved trolls, bore witness to Morgoth's meticulous preparations as he readied himself to shatter the fiery shackles that held him captive. Fully cognizant of the dire situation, Aegnor adamantly rejected surrendering his life without a valiant fight, especially while his beloved still drew breath within her lungs. He vowed to defend her existence with unwavering resolve, even if it meant his own demise.

As the war raged on, elves, orcs, and trolls alike were consumed by fire and smoke as the dragons and balrogs showed no partiality. Scaling the crumbling remnants of the walls, Aegnor bounded onto the back of a thundering dragon in a swift flight, tightly gripping its rugged, scaled hide. The dragon's fury blazed as it executed daring aerial manoeuvres, defying gravity with powerful mock dives and twirls, attempting to dislodge the elf from its massive frame. Yet Aegnor tenaciously clung to the beast, perched atop its mighty head. with a swift, precise motion, he simultaneously drove his twin knives into the beast's eyes, rendering it blind, panicked and unable to see, the Dragon lost momentum and went plummeting toward the ground in a full-scale dive. It careened into another dragon in mid-air, their wings and tails entwined. Together, they plummeted to the earth in a cataclysmic collision, their impact heralded by a deafening thunder.

Aegnor was not spared from the devastating blow. Enveloped by towering walls of raging dragon flame, he mustered a feeble attempt to rise, only to be seized by searing agony coursing through his shattered form, forbidding him completely of movement. The encroaching horde of orcs closed in upon him, their overwhelming numbers threatening to snuff out his very existence. Aegnor steeled himself to confront his ultimate demise. In the depths of his soul, a well of strength ran dry, leaving only a haunting calmness, as he prepared to face the abyss.

Just as he surrendered his last vestige of resolve, a figure soared over his prone body, a beacon of righteous fury. Raising his weary head. Without hesitation, Angrod launched himself at the advancing army, ruthlessly dispatching any who dared draw near, shielding his brother. Helpless, Aegnor bore witness to Angrod's valiant efforts, his heart torn asunder, until, with a single sneaky thrust, an orc plunged a blade into Angrod's back, ripping forth a resounding cry of fierce anguish. Aegnor, his voice raised in a desperate plea for his brother, tried to rise from the ground, but his own shattered body betrayed him.

Angrod, overwhelmed by the horde, was swiftly engulfed, his form disappearing into the bloodthirsty mob, revelling in the spoils of an elf prince at their mercy. The orcs, devoid of sorrow, unleashed a frenzied storm of blades upon him, an unholy ritual of slaughter. Aegnor's anguished screams mingled with his grief as he borne witness to it all by the fiery depths that blazed within his eyes. With his body broken and his brother, his last source of strength, wrested from him, the once mighty prince now lay helpless and broken in every sense.

Finally, the orcs ceased their butchery. Covered in Angrod's blood, their lusty eyes now turned to his brother. Who lay motionless upon the grass like a helpless lamb. The orcs advanced upon him, bringing forth the cruel and merciless demise that awaited him. Releasing a trembling sigh, Aegnor slowly rolled onto his back, his form sinking into the earth. With his gaze fixed steadfastly upon the heavens, his eyes beheld the brilliance of the stars, a radiant splendour amidst a moment plagued by chaos. In that tranquil peace, he captured the memory within his mind, shutting out all sound and sensation. Even as blow after blow was rained upon his body by the savage orcs, destroying it completely, Aegnor smiled, refusing to relinquish his consciousness. He would not grant the orcs the satisfaction of witnessing his life extinguished by their hands.

The ebony expanse of the sky shimmered with a brilliance surpassing any he had witnessed before. He lay sprawled upon the verdant, blood-stained grass, solitary and serenely at peace. The relentless horde had long since wearied of their pursuit, abandoning the wounded elf to his fate. Crimson rivulets adorned his form. Yet, in his final moments, pain, anguish, and fear were but distant echoes. Fixing his heavy gaze upon the celestial tapestry above, he felt a slight comfort in its splendour. I

As his last tethered breath whispered its farewell, a silent, tearful plea resonated within his mind, to the Valar, beseeching them to remember him and his undying love for Andreth. That they might be reunited once more at the end of this world and the awakening of the new, ushering in the end of time. Their union fulfilled anew within a world untainted by the constraints of this world—a love that had been unjustly denied to them. Finally, with a soft flicker of lashes, Aegnor surrendered his earthly existence, his essence ascending from his broken vessel in an iridescent azure of radiance, ascending skyward into the realm of the night.

As news reached Finrod's ears, he swiftly made his way to Dorthonion, only to be intercepted on his journey by yet more orcs, having almost lost his life, saved by Barahir, Bregor's own grandson, he sent a messenger who returned bearing grave tidings. The messenger brought with him a single witness to the great battle. He relayed the harrowing news of the catastrophic fight. Aegnor and Angrod fought with valiant might, defending their soldiers and one another, and had successfully pushed back. Alas, their efforts had been in vain. Dorthonion had fallen to the Dark Lord, and with a heavy heart, delivered the news of the fates of his brothers whose remains now lay still, lifeless upon the battlefield.

Overwhelmed by grief, the weight of the messenger's final words brought Finrod to his knees. In response, with utmost reverence, his soldiers journeyed onward and dutifully retrieved the broken bodies of Angrod and Aegnor and carried them to Finrod. Side by side, Finrod carefully laid his brothers bodies down, his sorrowful gaze fixed upon Aegnor's face. His eyes closed in a peaceful sleep. His ashen grey lips, curved in a delicate, eternal smile. His lifeless countenance bore an expression of serene tranquillity. Devoid of pain and anguish. An expression of utter peace.

Finrod's tears flowed with the sorrow that his heart could not bear as he pressed his lips upon Aegnor's icy, solid forehead. Never again would he hear Aegnor's voice or witness the fire within his eyes. His brother was gone, his vibrant flame snuffed out, never to be rekindled. Finrod's refined facade crumbled into mournful sobs, a poignant testament to love he bore for Aegnor.

At that very moment, Andreth, warm in her bed, drew her final breath. Her memories of Aegnor, extinguished with her life. Within her thin, pale hands tightly clasped her treasured gifts as she embarked upon her journey to the grave. it stood as a poignant proclamation to Illuvatar, affirming that the love between Andreth and Aegnor was legitimate and transcended the boundaries of elven and mortal fates—a testament to their enduring, true love