Title & Chapter Number: War of Daenova 3/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: LOTR Crossover with Legend of the Swords
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: "Lord of the Rings," "The Silmarillion" and "The Lost Tales" belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I'm borrowing them without permission. They will be returned when I am through. Legend of the Swords (LOTS) is owned by the Chroniclers of Khaenna, and I borrowed that with permission. This is a non-profit piece of fiction, so all you lawyers can just bugger off and find someone else to swindle.
Warnings: Character resurrection (Ereinion Gil-galad); the very fact that this is a crossover.
Betas: None
Cast: Major players in the Trilogy; characters from LOTS
Timeline: War of the Ring for LOTR; AU for LOTS
Spoilers: A lot of things from the Trilogy, particularly ROTK. If you've only seen the movies, then stay away from the middle parts of the fic until you've seen all three.
Summary: LOTR AU CROSSOVER. Gandalf has brought in strange new guests for Elrond's Council. They are a mysterious group of people who hid from the Free Races of Middle-Earth - until now. In the lead of their Queen, Caelis, they have decided that it is time to lift the veil over their existence and fight alongside Elves, Men, Dwarves and Hobbits for the freedom of Middle-Earth. But the War of the Ring is only the beginning of another War, for in the realm of Khaenna, Caelis must rise up to claim her birthright and lead her people in a bitter struggle to wrest their lands from the darkness of the Shadow.
Notes: Mostly bookverse, though there will be times when it will occasionally slip into movie-verse - but mostly when the two coincide so seamlessly that it is possible for one to have occured in the other. Thoughts will be written 'like so', and dialogue will be written "like so". Also, many of the conversations in Elvish will be written ^like so^. Many of the conversations in Daenovan will be written ~*like so*~. Any words/phrases that are written in their original, whether Elvish or Daenovan, shall have asterisks beside them and then they will have translations at the bottom of every chapter. Same thing goes for unfamiliar terms.
Chapter Three: The Feast
The hall of Elrond's house was filled with folk: Elves for the most part, though there were a few guests of other sorts. Elrond, as was his custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais. Upon his right sat Gandalf, and to Gandalf's right was Glorfindel, the Elf who had rescued Frodo and taken him to Rivendell to begin with. The seat directly to Elrond's left was unoccupied, but next to this empty seat sat another Elf, the one whom Gandalf claimed was named Ereinion.
Gandalf was shorter in stature than the other two; but his long white hair, his sweeping silver beard, and his broad shoulders made him look like some wise king of ancient legend. In his aged face under great snowy brows his dark eyes were set like coals that could suddenly leap into fire.
Glorfindel was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his face fair and young and fearless and full of joy; his eyes were bright and keen, and his voice like music; on his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was strength.
The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young, though in it was written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were gray as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of the stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fullness of his strength. He was the Lord of Rivendell and mighty among both Elves and Men.
The Elf named Ereinion was similar somewhat to Elrond in that they both shared dark hair and gray eyes. However, Ereinion's hair was not as dark as Elrond's, veering more to the shade of the darkest of browns than to black; and his eyes were tinged more with steel than with starlight - the sign of one who had seen too much bloodshed and been to too many battlefields. Upon his brow there too rested a circlet of silver, though Frodo noted that it was somewhat more elaborate than the one that Elrond wore. And unlike Elrond, who chose to wear silver and crimson, Ereinion chose royal blue and only a little bit of silver for his clothing. Kingly he seemed, sitting in his chair upon the dais, that he seemed to Frodo to be someone out of legend.
But Frodo was surprised to see that the seat between Elrond's and Ereinion's was empty. 'Who could be seated there?' he wondered. Apparently, he was not the only one wondering, because several murmurs rose from the other diners, questioning who would have that place of honor.
The murmurs died down as one of the doors on the other end of the hall opened, allowing a most amazing convoy of guests to enter. Frodo's eyes widened, amazed by what he was seeing.
A group of four Lords and two Ladies entered the hall, making six all told. All were dressed in Elven garb, their tresses done in the braids that the Elves so favored. They were extraordinarily beautiful, so much so that Frodo was almost afraid to look upon them lest he become blinded by their fairness.
At the head of the group walked a Lady of loveliness so startling that she seemed to glow as a star within the hall. Her hair was a silver that Frodo had never seen before, mingling starlight and moonlight together. Her eyes were dark as jet, but were brightened by a sprinkling of small silver flecks, like the reflection of the night sky on moonless nights in the waters of the Brandywine when he was a child. Her face was young and had no lines of care or worry, yet the way she carried herself told Frodo that while she might not have looked it, she carried a great and heavy responsibility in her heart. She was clad in an Elven dress of the purest white and the most brilliant of silvers, which only served to heighten the star-like gleam she seemed to radiate.
Frodo was startled even more when Elrond rose, and walked up to the Lady. Smiling, the Elf-lord took the Lady's hand, and led her to the seat beside him.
'So she is the guest that Elrond was waiting for,' Frodo thought. Now that he had beheld this guest, he felt he understood why she was so important. He was both surprised and abashed to find that he had a seat at Elrond's table among these folk so high and fair. Though he had a suitable chair, and was raised upon several cushions, he felt very small, and rather out of place; but that feeling quickly passed. The feast was merry and the food all that his hunger could desire.
During the course of the feast he spent time talking to his neighbor, the dwarf Gloin, one of the twelve companions of the great Thorin Oakenshield. Thanks to Gloin, Frodo managed to get news of the activities of the dwarves in the Lonely Mountain, and he also heard of the disappearance of Balin, Ori, and Oin.
At length the feast came to an end. Elrond and his daughter Arwen rose and went down the hall, and the company followed them in due order. The doors were thrown open, and they went across a wide hall and through other doors, and into a further hall. In it were no tables, but a bright fire was burning in a great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side.
Frodo found himself walking with Gandalf and the fair Lady he had seen at the table with Elrond. "This is the Hall of Fire," said the wizard. "Here you will hear many songs and tales - if you can keep awake. But except on high days it usually stands empty and quiet, and people come here who wish for peace and thought. There is always a fire here, all the year round, but there is little other light."
The Lady sighed, and her lips curved into a soft, wistful smile. "It was the same in my home, once, long ago. While music was more the realm of Urima and his kinsmen, our own halls were filled with the finest weavers of tales and tellers of stories. Lore has always been our greatest pride and chief joy, and there was none amongst my kinsmen who could not spin his or her own story when called upon to tell a tale."
"I would dearly love to hear some of those tales, My Lady," Frodo said then. When the Lady looked upon him, he bowed respectfully to her. "I did not mean to intrude on your conversation, My Lady, but I could not help overhearing."
Gandalf chuckled, and placed a gnarled hand on his shoulder. "Well met, Frodo, well met. How are you feeling?"
Frodo smiled at the wizard. "I feel quite well. Lord Elrond has taken good care of me."
"Good, good," Gandalf said, nodding. Turning to the Lady with a smile, he said, "Ah, before we go on, there are introductions that must be made. Caelis, this is Frodo Baggins, a Hobbit of the Shire. Frodo, this is Lady Caelis."
Caelis turned her gaze to him, and Frodo felt her eyes pierce into his very soul. But the look was kind and comforting, and a smile curled upon her lips as she curstied to him. "Hail and well-met, Master Baggins! I hope that the stars of the evening sky find you in a pleasant mood."
Frodo nodded, bowing politely to the woman. "It is a great honor to meet you, My Lady. If I may be so bold, I would wish to say that I have not seen anyone so fair as you."
Caelis laughed, and to Frodo it sounded like the melody of crystal in the wind. "I thank you for the compliment, Master Baggins." Her smile softened, and her look became distant as she gazed at the people who had gathered for the festivities. "It has been long since I attended such a gathering. I must admit that I have missed this sort of merriment quite a bit."
Frodo continued to listen as Caelis started speaking in another language, and then walked away from Gandalf, heading towards her companions. He looked up at Gandalf. "Is she an Elf?"
Gandalf chuckled, and shook his head, directing Frodo towards another part of the hall. "Many have said so, but no, she is not an Elf. Still, your question may yet be answered on the morrow, during the council. I can only hope that you are prepared to hear the truth."
Frodo was about to ask something more of the wizard, but decided that it would be best to keep silent.
~*~*~*~
Caelis allowed her eyes to sweep appreciatively over the gathered crowd in the Hall of Fire, her lips only twitching in the barest semblances of a smile. While she felt joy in this celebration, she also felt deep-seated sorrow; for what was going on around her only reminded her of all that she had lost in her youth.
'And to think, I am quite young by my people's standards,' she mused wryly. She was only three thousand and three hundred years old, if she were to reckon time as she knew it in Middle-Earth. For time passes more quickly - far too quickly - in Arda than it does in Khaenna. In her home world, she would be around two thousand years of age - barely old enough to reclaim the throne that was hers by right.
"And why does the fair lady's face wear a frown?"
Caelis looked up, starled. She had been so deep in her thoughts that she did not see this person approaching her. She looked up, and gazed upon the face of a male - one of the race of Men, if she was correct -but whose face and eyes possessed a hint of that Elvish glow. She smiled up at him. "Forgive me for looking so gloomy, My Lord, but while this celebration is indeed wonderful, it reminds me of many things, things that are a part of my childhood that is now a part of the distant past."
The man smiled slightly, and bowed. "Then it is I who must beg for your forgiveness, My Lady, for I did not know that you were lost in reliving days of the past."
"It was no trouble," Caelis replied with a wave of her hand. "And what is your name, My Lord?"
"Call me Aragorn, My Lady."
"Very well then. I am Caelis."
Aragorn bowed to her respectfully, smiling to her as he did so. "I know, My Lady. Master Mithrandir was kind enough to inform me of that when last we spoke."
"Ah, I see."
Aragorn nodded as he took the seat beside her, giving her a kind smile. "And he has told me many other things besides."
Caelis raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips slightly. "And what might these things be?"
"Your true nature and the nature of your companions." Aragorn raised his hand as Caelis opened her mouth to protest. "But I gave Gandalf my word that I would not speak of it to anyone else until the council tomorrow. As of the moment, only Lord Elrond, Lord Ereinion, and myself know of the truth."
Caelis stared at him warily. "I see. And who might this Lord Ereinion be?"
"That is he," Aragorn replied, glancing momentarily at an Elf who sat beside Gandalf and Elrond at the moment. This particular Elf had dark hair and eyes the color of glimmering steel, eyes that could be cold or warm depending on the situation or the person being looked upon. His hair fell down to his shoulders in dark waves, breaking upon the proud line of his shoulders that were covered with a cloak of royal blue velvet.
Caelis stared at the aforementioned Elf-lord. 'But...but...that is impossible! It cannot be! I was told that he was dead!' And yet, there he sat, laughing and talking with those around him, as if he had not died at all. 'The dead cannot return from their rest, but how can he be sitting before me?'
At that moment, the Elf-lord turned, and gazed at her, his eyes finding hers almost immediately. She shivered at the gaze: it was a look that she had seen but once in actuality, but one that had lingered in her memory the past thousands of years.
'I must speak with him.' There were so many questions that needed answering, so many explanations that needed to be given... 'I thought he was dead.'
But she had to return her attentions to Aragorn again. 'I must have looked silly, gaping like a landed fish. Ah Caelis, you may be quite old, but there is still much of the youngling left in you.' She smiled slightly as she looked back at Aragorn. "Yes, I see. I...sense...that he is trustworthy." She gave her companion a measured gaze. "And...you do not fear me or my kind?"
Aragorn looked at her thoughtfully for a while over the rim of his goblet, before he put down his glass and smiled at her. "I do not fear you, My Lady, nor do I fear your companions. You are different from the creatures that we here in Arda are familiar with. Your kin have all the beauty and the wisdom of the greatest of the Eldar. You are nothing like the foul and fearful beasts we called dragons that wandered this world until recently."
Caelis grinned. She knew then that she could trust this man with her life - something that she could do to only a very precious few of that race. ~*You are a great knight, Aragorn,*~ she murmured in the Daenovan tongue. ~*And when this world should teeter on the edge of destruction, it is you who shall be the one to save it.*~
Aragorn blinked at her, even as she got up. "My Lady? What did you say a moment ago?"
She smiled at him, and gently shook her head. "It was nothing of import, My Lord." She turned around, intent on heading to the gardens, but just before she looked away she caught the Elf-lord's gaze for a moment, and sent him a silent invitation across the space between them. At last, she looked away, and walked towards the gardens.
~*~*~*~
Ereinion watched her leave, noticing the way her hips gently swayed as she walked, her feet almost soundless upon the stone as she wandered to the gardens that lay just beyond the Hall of Fire.
He had caught her staring at him from across the hall, her eyes filled with incredulity and amazement. Her eyes said it all: she was stunned to see him alive. She must have found out, in one way or another, that he had died in the battlefield. 'That, then, would explain the invitation to the gardens.'
A memory from his past life came forcefully back into his mind...
~*~*~*~
The storm continued to rage outside, pelting his tent with water. The rain bounced off the outside of the tent, causing an eternal drumming sound against the leather. A rumble of thunder broke the pounding of the rain, a deep, throaty sound that seemed to tell of impeding doom.
A rainstorm was not all that bad, had it happened in Lindon or in Imladris. But a rainstorm in Mordor was positively foul.
At that moment, the tent flaps flew wide open as Carathir and Rostaldo, two of the soldiers who guarded the entrance to his tent, came in, dragging a black-cloaked figure between the two of them.
He blinked in surprise. "What is the meaning of this?"
It was Rostaldo who responded. "My Lord Gil-galad, we found this suspicious person skulking around the edge of the encampment. We questioned him about what he was doing and where he was going, but he said that he had business of his own and would not speak of it to anyone of our rank."
Gil-galad frowned, looking upon the person Rostaldo was referring to. The stranger was covered head to foot in a cloak of silvery-black, the face hidden and obscured by the deep hood that had been thrown over it.
"What he says is true, My Lord," the figure replied, the voice coming out slightly muffled from the depths of the hood. "I have come to do business with you. I had come to this camp intent on seeking you out, but they have made certain that I would be brought to you personally."
Gil-galad nodded, though he did not let his guard down. "I see." He glanced at Rostaldo and Carathir. ^You may leave us now, I shall deal with this person myself.^
The two Elves glanced at each other momentarily, but after a moment, they saluted, turned, and once more took their positions just outside the tent.
Gil-galad walked up to the stranger, attempting to pierce through the shadows that lay across the person's face. "Now then, My Lord, I think it would be appropriate if you revealed to me who you were before discussing the matter you wish to speak of."
The figure nodded. "As you wish, My Lord." One pale, slender hand appeared from the depths of the cloak, and reached up to push the hood back. Lamplight flooded over the face of the stranger, and Gil-galad's eyes widened.
He was speaking not to a lord, as he had assumed, but to a lady. And a fair one, at that, with hair lit by starlight and a face that was refreshing in its innocence and youth. But most remarkable of all were her eyes: dark ink pools with small sparks of silver.
The lady smiled at him. "You seem quite speechless now, My Lord. I thought that you meant to speak with me."
Gil-galad shook himself out of his stupor, and at last managed to find his tongue. "My Lady...who are you? Where are you from?"
The lady laughed, a soft, pleasing sound. "I can tell you who I am. My name is Caelis, seneschal to my mother, Melusine. As for where I am from...forgive me My Lord, but that is something I am not at liberty to reveal."
"Why have you come here?" Gil-galad asked. "You said you came here for a purpose."
Almost immediately, the light of joy in Caelis' eyes faded away, and she frowned. "Yes, I did come here for a purpose." She looked at him, her dark eyes piercing through his. "I came here to warn you, My Lord."
Gil-galad blinked. "Warn me? Of what?"
"What the Enemy you fight has planned come tomorrow's battle."
"What do you mean?"
"I have been spying around the enemy camp for quite some time, and we have heard rumors that during the battle tomorrow, they shall attempt to attack you from behind. I do not know all the details, but I do know that they shall try to strike your army on its unprotected flank unless you do something about it."
Gil-galad leaned back against the desk in his tent, trying to grasp the information that had been given to him. "Are you certain of this?"
Caelis nodded, expression somber. "I do not lie to you, My Lord."
There was a moment of silence, then Gil-galad spoke once more. "Were you ordered to come here, to tell me this information?"
"No, I was not." Caelis looked away then, a shadow coming over her face as she responded. "In fact I was not supposed to come here at all. My kin have been watching all that goes on with the Dark Lord of the East, but we have kept this information to ourselves, using it only to our advantage. But you and the Men of Numenor...you have found the courage that we have not found: to challenge the Dark Lord even though it might be a futile battle."
"Why do you speak this way?" Gil-galad inquired, immensely intrigued by his guest. "Why do your kin fear battling the Dark Lord? I do not see any indication for you to be afraid, for you seem to be born of one of the noblest houses of the Edain." 'And if you are of the Edain,' he didn't add, 'then why have you not responded to Elendil's call? Why did you not fight with your kin?'
Caelis sighed, and there was immense sadness in that sigh. "All I can tell you is this: because of a Dark Lord we too were cast out of our lands, exiled from our homes until such time that we gather enough strength to reclaim what is truly ours by right. But this gathering of strength cannot come true... My people are a broken, shattered race...too many of us died in a fight that should have been won but that we lost because of the actions of a traitor."
Now Gil-galad was more confused than ever. "My Lady, please-"
"That is all I can tell you, My Lord," Caelis said, sharply cutting into his statement. She pulled her hood up over her head again, eclipsing the brilliance of her hair and eyes. "I shall try to send word to you as often as I can, My Lord." As she spoke, she reached deep into the folds of her cloak, and brought something out.
Gil-galad looked at it, and realized that it was a signet ring. The ring itself was made of mithril, while the seal - a seven-rayed star surmounted by a crown - was carved into a colorless jewel similar to a diamond, but with more brilliance. He took it from her hand, and turned it over and over in his palm. "What is this for, My Lady?"
"That is a copy of my own signet," Caelis replied. She lifted her right hand, displaying an exact replica of the ring Gil-galad was holding in his palm wrapped around her middle finger. "When you receive a letter, compare the seal on the letter to the seal on that ring. If they are the same, then you will know that it is I who sends you word."
Gil-galad opened his mouth to speak once more, but Caelis had already turned, and melted into the night beyond the tent. When he questioned Carathir as to the whereabouts of the cloaked figure, Carathir responded that he and Rostaldo had seen the figure emerge from the tent, but had not seen where he had gone.
~*~*~*~
That, as Ereinion recalled, was the first and, he thought then, the last time he had laid eyes on Caelis, Dragon Princess of Daenova.
'Ah, but she is no longer a Princess,' he reminded himself as he walked into the gardens. 'As Mithrandir said, she is now High Queen of her people since her mother was slain in an Orc raid.'
That would explain, then, why there seemed a sudden weight in her stare, showing that she had aged though her face and form would give no sign of aging. When he had first met her, that night in his tent in Mordor, she had been but a child. Now she was in her prime -powerful and wise, a Queen of her people.
He spotted her seated in one of the gazebos in the gardens, away from the general merrymaking in the Hall of Fire. Clad in the garb of the Elves, she reminded him of some of the Vanyar he had seen during his brief stay in the Halls of Mandos in the Undying Lands, where he had been sent to after his death in Mordor. However, unlike the Vanyar, who were perpetually bathed in the light of Aman and thus seemed unreal, Caelis was like a star that shone upon the mortal lands of Arda: dazzling in beauty, yet tangible and real.
"I did not expect you see you here, Your Majesty."
She raised her eyes to look at him, a sad smile appearing on her face. "Please My Lord, do not call me by that title yet. Not yet." She looked away, turning her face to the star-filled sky above. "I have no right to be called a Queen. My friends may insist that I be called such, but I do not think it is right. For what is a Queen if she and her people have been cast out of their lands and sent into exile, forced to live in another world where they are still not safe from the Shadow?"
She looked back at him, her eyes puzzled. "But how is it, My Lord, that you have returned? I heard that you had been slain in that last battle, that you had fallen at the feet of the Dark Lord himself."
Ereinion flashed a half-smile in her direction even as he took a seat beside her on the bench. "All I was told, before I was sent back, was that there was still something I had to accomplish, that my purpose had not yet been fulfilled. I do not know what that purpose is, precisely, but I feel that I was sent back to finish what I started -to see that the Ring is destroyed once and for all."
Caelis nodded her head. "Indeed, that is a mission that must certainly be accomplished, for the betterment of all who live in this world."
"But what of you?" Ereinion inquired, trying to shift the topic away from him. "Why have you come here, to this Council? Surely you would not have come here, especially since you risk telling all of Arda what you and your kin truly are."
"So Gandalf has told you of my apprehensions?" Caelis sighed wearily. "Indeed, had not Gandalf talked to me of this, then I would not have come here. Too many of my people have been lost - first to the War of the Shadows in Daenova, and here, the Orcs decimate what little of us managed to flee from Daenova through the world-gates. Although I desire not to claim my title as Queen, I am still the leader of my people. I would not put their lives at risk.
"But Gandalf reminded me once more of the reason why I chose to aid you during the Last Alliance. He reminded me that though we are Exiles in Arda, my people still live here. We are responsible for what happens here as much as the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth are responsible.
"This was something that my mother did not think of. She believed that since we were Exiles, we had no right to interfere with the affairs of the people who lived here. She believed this, even when the Orcs started attacking even those of our kind. She believed this even when Sauron became stronger and stronger and the war that was brewing finally broke out."
She gazed at him thoughtfully. "Sometimes, I ask myself what could have been if we had given your people more aid during the Last Alliance. Sometimes I wonder if I had disobeyed my mother outright and led a contingent of our forces in the battle against Mordor, if we had fought alongside Elves and Men and Dwarves...would this have happened? Would this Shadow still linger over Arda?" Her voice cracked, and tears shimmered in her eyes. "Would...would my mother have been slain?"
Ereinion looked upon her with sympathy in his gaze. He knew how she felt, for, looking back upon his past life from the safety of the present, he wondered what would have happened if he had decided to take this or that course of action.
"My Lady," he said softly, curling his hand around hers in a tender gesture, "it is not wise to weep over the past. We cannot take back what is lost to us for eternity. We can only make do with what we have, and hope to use it to bring a new hope to the future."
Caelis nodded, and when he gazed at her eyes, he noticed that the tears were now gone. "You are right," she said, conviction growing in her voice. "I should not waste my time thinking about the past, not when I have a chance to right the future."
Ereinion nodded. "You need not be alone in this struggle, My Lady."
She smiled at him. "Yes, My Lord. Not alone...not alone."
~*~*~*~
War of Shadows ~ the immensely destructive war that occured in Daenova that the Shadow Dragons eventually won.
world-gates ~ translated Daenovan term for the dimensional portals that led from Khaenna into Middle-Earth.
~*~*~*~
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