Title & Chapter Number: Before the Dawn Trilogy 3: To Live, To Breathe 2/3
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Hith a Naur
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: No money, no suey
Warnings: Slash, Character Death
Betas: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence
Cast: Celeborn/Haldir
Timeline: October 25 - December 25 3018 TA
Spoilers: None
Summary: During the attacks from Dol Guldur against Lothlorien, Celeborn's March Warden is struck down by the forces while saving his brothers and their company. Celeborn must face eternity without Haldir.
Notes: Yes, I know. I said only three trilogies, didn't I? ^^ "Time Until the End of Time" is complete, yes. This story, though, touches on the few facts we are given in that series regarding Celeborn and Haldir. In the second trilogy, I let everyone know the two Lorien Elves were lovers when Celeborn sent Haldir to retrieve Glorfindel. Here is their story. ^^ Just like the others, it is based on the songs that inspired them -- these are Evanescence.
"Your second challenge will not be so easy." Mandos advanced on the Sinda, smiling coldly. "You have proved yourself mentally, now let us see how you do physically." From nowhere, a slender sword fell before Celeborn, planting its blade firmly in the moist earth.
He looked up at Mandos with a questioning gaze. "Who am I to fight?"
"Them," the Vala indicated, turning to his left. Celeborn followed Mandos' gaze and saw seven figures stepping from the mist beyond the clearing. Six held swords in their right hands; the seventh held his in the left. As they approached, Celeborn realized that the reason why this seventh figure did not hold his sword with his right hand was because his right hand was missing. The observation brought with it the sinking realization of who these figures were.
Mandos nodded, following Celeborn's thoughts. "You are correct, Lord Celeborn. These are the Sons of Feanor, brought back from my Halls for this task. You shall face one at a time. Score three touches before your opponent to proceed to the next. Failure to do so will forfeit your fea to me."
Celeborn pulled the sword from the ground and assumed a defensive posture. "I am ready."
Mandos motioned to the Elf on the far right to advance. This would be either Amrod or Amras; he was identical to the Elf standing beside him. Most likely Amrod, as he was the younger. He wasted no time, thrusting his blade at Celeborn as soon as he was close enough.
Celeborn was instantly thrown to the defensive. He was still reeling from the realization of who these Elves were, and only his reflexes kept him from losing before he'd even begun. Finally, he began to press his attacks, remembering his training. The Lorien Lord watched the twin's fighting style with a critical eye. Though his opponent was an accomplished fighter, Celeborn could tell that many of the attacks were archaic and outdated -- from his point of view, of course.
Celeborn shifted his tactics to better reflect the swordplay he learned in Doriath instead of the more modern form that evolved later. The older form was more concerned with edge-work than point-work, slashing instead of stabbing, so Celeborn moved in closer to Amrod, using more power than finesse. This was the key; Celeborn was taller than Amrod and was able to simply overpower him. Three contacts with the edge of his sword, and Celeborn sent the younger twin back to the sideline with a nod of respect.
Amras stepped to the line and saluted Celeborn with his sword. Unlike his brother, the elder twin was more cautious, gauging Celeborn's abilities through quick engagements of a few parries followed by a period of circling, processing what he had learned. Celeborn countered by not over-thinking, switching styles at random, pushing the attack without giving Amras time to consider his next move. Celeborn moved on instinct rather than on tactic. Amras simply wasn't able to keep up, and Celeborn took advantage of each mistake, tallying three touches much more quickly than he had against Amrod.
The third elf walked forward as Amras was retreating, and a spark of recognition passed between him and Celeborn. He hissed, "I remember you, Celeborn of Doriath."
Celeborn regarded him coolly. "Curufin. It's been a long time. The last time I saw you, you were writhing on the end of my blade."
"And thanks to you, I've spent the ages since locked in the Halls of Waiting. Believe me when I say I am going to greatly enjoy this." Curufin leapt into the fray with two quick feints and a vicious strike that knocked Celeborn's sword from his hand.
The Sinda threw himself to the ground, diving out of the way of Curufin's next slash. Curufin aimed a stab straight down toward Celeborn's chest, but Celeborn rolled to the side, and the sword bit deep into the earth. Before the Noldo could recover it, though, Celeborn rolled back to the other side, putting his weight against the flat of the sword until it was wrenched from Curufin's grip. He continued his roll, kicking out into the back of Curufin's knee and bringing the other Elf to the ground as well.
Celeborn stood and thought briefly about going for his sword, but Curufin bounced to his feet too quickly. Celeborn extended his left arm toward Curufin, palm down, holding his right hand low and away from his side, palm facing his opponent.
Curufin recognized the stance as an 'en garde' position of the ancient Elvish martial art, Talf-Laden. The Noldo nodded curtly and attacked by stepping into strike range and lunging with his right hand, palm up, aiming for Celeborn's throat. The Sinda countered by shifting his outstretched arm to the outside of Curufin's body and pushing the striking arm out of the way with his forearm. As Curufin's body turned, exposing his back to Celeborn, the Elf-Lord brought his right hand up, preparing a strike to the back of the neck.
The Noldo was ready, though. He used his momentum to spin himself around, and he threw his left arm back to block Celeborn's attack. He shifted his weight instantly and thrust his right elbow straight back into Celeborn's face. When the Sinda staggered, Curufin turned around and shoved his hand -- palm out, fingers down -- into the soft spot at the bottom of Celeborn's ribcage. The force of the blow knocked Celeborn off his feet and sent him sprawling several feet away.
Curufin walked to his sword and bent down to retrieve it. He had just wrapped his fingers around the hilt when he was struck from behind by a kick to the back of the thigh. Celeborn did not watch as the Noldo was thrown into a roll; he dashed to his fallen blade and grabbed it up before his opponent could regain his stance. Again the two warriors faced off with blade in hand.
"Did you enjoy that?" Celeborn asked with a sneer.
Curufin yelled a feral battle cry and rushed Celeborn with all his strength. Overextended and angry, the dark-haired Elf was not fast enough to react when Celeborn sidestepped. The Sinda slapped the flat of his sword against the wrist of Curufin's sword hand; the sharp pain caused Curufin's hand to open reflexively and drop his sword. Celeborn continued his movement by pushing his foot into Curufin's calf, forcing the Noldo to his knees. With his left hand, Celeborn grabbed a handful of Curufin's hair and pulled the Elf's head back, holding the edge of his blade against Curufin's neck.
"Yield!" Celeborn commanded.
Curufin strained against both the sword and the hand on his hair, but both struggles were in vain. He growled in frustration, then said through clenched teeth, "I yield."
Celeborn tapped the Elf three times on the top of the head with his sword and released the hold on Curufin's hair. The Noldo stood slowly and walked to his two defeated brothers, face burning in shame. Celeborn looked back to the four remaining opponents, awaiting the next adversary. Caranthir, the middle son, saluted Celeborn with his sword, then laid the blade on the ground. He touched his forehead and his chest in a gesture of respect and admiration, then walked calmly across the field to join his younger brothers.
Celegorm, next in line, watched Caranthir's surrender with a sneer. He slid his foot under the hilt of the discarded sword and, with a snap kick, tossed the sword up into his left hand. He made no gesture of salute or respect as he rushed toward Celeborn, two swords glinting in the moonlight. The Lord of Lothlorien set his jaw and joined the battle, whipping his sword around in fluid arcs to deflect the blows from both weapons.
"You never were one to play by the rules, Celegorm the Fair," Celeborn challenged as he parried a high strike and sidestepped a low one.
"Rules are for the weak!" retorted the former Regent of Nargothrond. He swung his right blade high, drawing Celeborn's sword up as he parried. The Sinda anticipated the next strike and moved to evade, but Celegorm had not attacked with his other sword. Instead, he turned slightly and side-kicked, catching Celeborn in the stomach and doubling him over. Before Celeborn could recover, the Noldo spun and kicked him in the side of the head. Celegorm followed through with his sword, slashing Celeborn across the stomach as he fell.
Celeborn crumpled to the ground, a thin trickle of blood seeping from the wound on his stomach. It was obvious now that regardless of whatever sport Mandos had in mind, Celegorm had his own agenda. Celeborn rolled onto all fours to push himself up, but Celegorm was there too fast and planted a swift kick to Celeborn's stomach, right across the wound he'd made a moment before. Celeborn collapsed with a cry. He looked up and saw Celegorm holding both blades high, points aimed for his back.
"Guess you lose," the Noldo spat.
Celeborn knew that he could never get his sword around in time to block, so he released his grip on the hilt and curled his fingers into a fist. As Celegorm's attack descended, Celeborn pushed off the ground with his left hand, twisting in the air, and drove his fist into the highest unprotected area he could reach -- namely, Celegorm's groin. The Elf staggered back in surprise and pain, giving Celeborn enough time to grab up his blade and hop to his feet.
Celegorm was still bent over and wincing when Celeborn attacked with a quick thrust to the Noldo's left shoulder. Celegorm could not bring his sword to bear in time, and dropped Caranthir's sword from the shock of the strike. Celeborn pulled his weapon back, tip bloodied, and attacked again. Celegorm parried the first strike, but was unable to block the second, and Celeborn stabbed into the Noldo's right shoulder, causing him to drop his second blade.
"Guess not," Celeborn hissed as he pulled the sword back a second time. Celegorm had barely an instant to register the Sinda's next move before Celeborn had spun completely around, adding momentum to strength, and slashed out for the Noldo's neck, cleaving Celegorm's head from his body in one motion.
Mandos' eyes grew wide at the ferocity of the blow, as did Caranthir's and at least one of the twins'. Celeborn's robes and face were both spattered with blood, and his eyes were filled with a shocking intensity. The strength in his gaze, though, was belied by the way his arm fell heavily to his side, the point of his sword dragging on the ground. The last two bouts had drained his energy more than he wanted to admit, and he still had two opponents left, both of which had survived far longer than their brothers and had experience and training to rival or surpass his own.
Maglor casually walked forward, bringing his sword up in salute. Celeborn returned the gesture with considerably more effort, then matched Maglor's ready stance. Here at least was some honor, Celeborn reflected, and a sense of dignity. Unfortunately, the combination generally produced the most effective fighters.
The Noldo moved into an easy sparring rhythm, lazily drifting through textbook forms and techniques that Celeborn had no difficulty countering. Anytime the Lothlorien Lord attempted to attack, though, he was swiftly repelled, even though Maglor never altered his rhythm or his style. He was simply always *there* whenever Celeborn sought to break his defenses. However, Maglor never pressed the advantage, giving Celeborn plenty of time to disengage and recover when his attacks were deflected. Celeborn suddenly had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that Maglor was much better than he and could finish him off at any time.
"You must really love him."
Celeborn looked startled. "What?"
"This Elf for whom you fight. You must really love him," Maglor repeated, launching into a simple time-thrust exercise that Celeborn had learned as an Elfling.
"I love him with all my heart," Celeborn responded, curious as to the point.
"And yet," the Noldo continued, "you risk yourself and your future in order to bring him back from the Halls. If you should fail, you will never be together, yet if you had but waited, you could have joined him in Valinor and reclaimed what you lost here."
Celeborn continued to parry through the exercises, giving the expected attacks when called for. He became increasingly frustrated at his inability to progress beyond these childish games. "Do you have a point, Randir?" he snapped.
"It just seems to me," Maglor answered calmly as he moved into a more complex parry/riposte training practice, "that it is quite selfish to go to all this trouble simply to bring him back to you for a few more years before you both travel to Valinor anyway. Are you so impatient that you cannot do without him for a scant few years, Lord Celeborn?"
"I need him," Celeborn said simply.
"You did without him for Ages -- literally. From Menegroth to Lothlorien you were parted, yet you seem no worse for wear. Did you not 'need' him then?"
"So much wasted time," the Sinda acknowledged sadly. "So much that we lost." He let his guard down slightly and Maglor moved in for the touch. Celeborn recovered himself in time, though, and parried the attack, riposting quickly and surprising the Noldo with a tap to the chest.
Maglor was visibly impressed. He stepped back, circling with Celeborn. "Even so, in Valinor, you will have until the end of Arda together. Why is it so important that you have him here now? It is simply your impatience and 'need,' as you put it?"
"It wasn't his time!"
"That isn't your decision!"
"I will *make* it my decision!"
Maglor cocked his head. "If that is your only reason, Lord Celeborn, then you will lose."
The Noldo lunged, and even though he was nowhere near Celeborn, suddenly the Sinda felt the point of Maglor's blade touching his chest. Celeborn blinked in surprise. Maglor had moved so fast that he hadn't seemed to move at all, as though he had gone from *there* to *here* without passing through the space between.
Celeborn scrambled backwards. Maglor did not pursue. It was now apparent that Maglor could end this at any time and doom Celeborn to eternity in the Halls of Waiting. The mere fact that he did not was a testament to his honor. He would give Celeborn all the time he needed to convince him of his sincerity, but if the Sinda failed, Maglor would put an end to Celeborn's chances of victory. Celeborn circled as he pondered, occasionally engaging Maglor with more tactical exercises, which the Noldo obliged without pressing for victory.
"He is my life," Celeborn said finally. "I loved him before the end of Telperion and Laurelin, and I will not stop loving him even though Eru Iluvatar Himself should command it of me. You say that I lived without him. I say that I could no more live without air. The choice to be apart was his, and I respected his decision out of love. But I was never far from him, and I never felt less love for him because of his choice. But this is different. He has gone where I cannot follow, and my world is dark and empty without him. As is my heart."
"*Your* world. *Your* heart. Have you no thought but yourself?"
"His brothers miss him. His friends miss him. He left behind many."
"But you do not fight on their behalf, you fight on your own."
"Yes, I fight for myself. I fight for my love, my life, my all. And yes, perhaps it is selfish, but what is love if it is not at least a little bit selfish? I want him back. I would like to believe that he wants to come back. Ae dannon," he whispered, switching to the more familiar Sindarin tongue, "dannathon istol i maethannen na vellasen bān verio i veleth-e-guilen."
Maglor did not seem convinced. He closed with Celeborn, whipping his blade up with blinding speed. Celeborn blocked, and Maglor trapped the swords together, leaning closely toward Celeborn's face. His voice was barely above a whisper. "My brother always feints to the right before attempting a tranche. It's a bad habit he got into long ago."
The Noldo pushed away from Celeborn, disarming himself as though Celeborn had been the one to trap the swords. He held his arms outstretched, presenting his chest to his opponent. "Am meleth, mellonen," he said softly. Celeborn nodded his head in respect and lunged, tapping Maglor on the chest twice.
Maglor bowed in acquiescence and walked to join his brothers, leaving only Maedhros standing before Celeborn; only Maedhros between Celeborn and Haldir. The one-handed Noldo lifted his sword in salute and moved into an 'en garde' position. "I am sorry for your loss, mellonen. Would that I had my own way; I would not stand in your way. But, alas, I cannot step aside. I must fight under Lord Mandos' geas, and I must fight to avenge my brothers."
Celeborn saluted in return, shifting his stance to face a left-handed opponent. "Im henia, Maedhros," the Sinda said softly, touching his forehead and chest with his free hand. He centered himself and assumed a defensive stance, inviting Maedhros to make the first move.
The tales of the swordsmanship of the eldest son of Feanor were not exaggerated, Celeborn admitted as he struggled to keep up with the staggering speed of the ancient Noldo. Like Celegorm, Maedhros was not holding back or pulling his strikes. Unlike Celegorm, Maedhros did not appear to be trying to kill Celeborn -- at least, not yet.
Predictably, it was Maedhros who made the first hit, slashing Celeborn's left arm from shoulder to elbow. The cut was not life-threatening, but it hurt like fire and made the arm essentially useless. It was a classic tranche attack, one that Celeborn should have seen coming considering Maglor's warning to him. He thought back and realized that the Noldo *had* indeed feinted to the right just before scoring the hit.
Celeborn shook his head and held his sword up again. His left arm dangled helplessly at his side; raising it for balance was simply too painful. The strain of the battles were beginning to show on him. Even the brief respite offered by Maglor was not enough to refresh the Sinda enough to face Maedhros on even terms. The wound on his stomach ached with every deep breath he took, and each jarring impact of blade on blade sent shooting pains through his injured arm.
Maedhros feinted to the right, and this time, Celeborn noticed. He sidestepped the incoming tranche and slipped his sword under the Noldo's guard, drawing the point along Maedhros' right side. Maedhros staggered backward.
"A strong hit," he said respectfully, falling back into Quenya.
Celeborn smiled slightly despite his exhaustion. He held his blade at the ready and circled with Maedhros, noting how the Noldo seemed to have very little difficulty compensating for his injury. Maedhros advanced, engaging Celeborn in a flurry of parries and ripostes that left them both out of breath, but neither any closer to victory.
Maedhros came for Celeborn again, before either of them were truly recovered. Several parries later, Maedhros feinted right again, followed by a slash toward Celeborn's thigh. Celeborn parried the tranche, driving the Noldo's blade down. Maedhros came down on his right foot, stumbling as the pain in his side flared up. Celeborn used the pause to his advantage; he lunged forward, stabbing Maedhros through the left shoulder.
The Noldo looked up at Celeborn and smiled. Celeborn's eyes widened as he realized that Maedhros had sacrificed the touch to put himself in a better position. He brought his left arm up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and stabbed Celeborn just under his right arm, sliding the blade between the muscles and twisting. The Sinda screamed in pain, his sword falling from his grip as his arm suddenly went numb.
Maedhros pulled his blade out, stepping back to reposition himself. Celeborn fell to his knees, fighting the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him. With great effort, he looked up at Maedhros. The Noldo blinked, and a single tear slid down his cheek. "Forgive me," he whispered.
Then he stabbed Celeborn through the heart.
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