Title & Chapter Number: Tel' Lindar(The Bard): Sequel to The Empty Vessel 8/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Lord Of The Rings/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I'm not Tolkien, I don't pretend to be the Great one, nor am I the amazing JK Rowlings. I just play with their lovely Elves and Wizards and promise to return them in good condition. I didn't sell this, yada yada yada. Bronwyn is mine.
Disclaimer 2: To JS Bach, Andreas Vollenweider, Mozart, Elton John, Metallica, Bad Company, Howard Shore, AC/DC and any other musician whose music and lyrics I have impinged on. I have written none of the lyrics and apologize if I have offended any. I also wish to apologize to various television and movies which in the course of this I might have trod on, however, I don't think Beavis will mind the plug so much. And to the others who I was very much influenced by. This is ALL your fault!
Special Disclaimer for Tel Lindar: HANKIE WARNING. There. You have been warned.
Warnings: graphic het sex, excessive foul language, violence, major angst, character death, light bondage. Some serious reliving of the smoky 70's - It's rated NC-17 for a reason!
Betas: GotsSnape, Alex
Cast: Severus Snape/OFC, Haldir/OFC - implied
Timeline: Just a little in the future.
Spoilers:
Summary:
Notes: Dedication: This one is for all the beautiful women, who discovered that true beauty comes in the prime of their lives and not as skinny, young things!
Any word/phrase spoken in Elvish is either translated immediately or at the end of the chapter, depending on story flow.
Please be aware that I am writing this fic for TWO distinctly different fandoms. As I am aware that what one will automatically know and take for granted, the other might not. Therefore I am explaining - or translating - everything, including LOTR standard verbal knowledge at the bottom. Please be patient.
Please also be aware that this fic is a sequel to a LOTR ring called The Empty Vessel. Tel' Lindar should stand on its own, but you might want to read it first. If you cannot find it, please let me know.
Warning: This fic, while AU for LOTR, does remain in CURRENT canon for HP. That means if you haven't read the books, including OOTP, there might be some major spoilers.
This fic also contains character death. If you upset easily, do NOT read it. If you like pink and fluffy, this is NOT the fic for you! Do not start it and then flame the hell out of me! This is how the Muses agreed to have it written and I had no choice! If you start it, I suggest you finish it. All things aren't what they always seem...
And in the end, she followed him...
Chapter 8 - A Game of Chicken or the Undertaker's Creed.
~*~*~*~
** He saw her coming up the hill, the sun glaring off the sword strapped to her back. Her head was down and words flowed from her lips in a litany.
Mutterings.
"...following peasant rebellion, ousting the Mongol rule, Zhu Yuanzhang established the Ming Dynasty, the last of the native Chinese rule, in 1368. Historically he is known as Emperor Taizu. At the height of the Dynasty..."
The mutterings of a madwoman.
He saw the nightmare, the trap she was walking into. He opened his mouth to warn her, but no sound issued forth. He made a grab for his wand, but the wand's casing, where he kept it hidden at his side, was empty. He could only watch in horror.
She looked up from her musings to find herself loosely surrounded by four humanoid monsters. They stood over seven feet tall, muscular, rows of razor- sharp teeth grinning. They wore leather jerkins and had long, black hair, tied in top knots.
These were machines; living, breathing machines, bred to kill.
Uruk-hai.
He watched her drop her pack, her roll, with a sigh and the knives slung in her holster where immediately out and spinning on her fingers. She perused the wide circle with a calmness that was alarming.
"Come." he heard her whisper. "Come, my darlings. Come to Beavis."
Before the Uruk-hai could tighten their circle, her knives had flown into the neck of one. They returned to her and she threw the knives again, decapitating the first Uruk-hai. She aimed and threw the blades at the second, with the same results.
The two remaining rushed her. With not enough room to complete the task at hand, she slung the knives into opposite directions, clipping the hamstrings of both, bringing them to their knees; buying her time. She beheaded the closest one and began to advance on the remaining one, who had unsteadily regained his feet. The knives were spinning like tops on her fingertips.
The Voyeur was disgusted by the exchange taking place. The monster - the Uruk-hai - began to deride her, egg at her, thriving on the pain. Her knives flew into his stomach. He grabbed at them and pulling them from his body, licked the blood and gore from them, snarling, laughing at her. They flew from the Uruk-hai's hands, cutting them, slicing them, the handles neatly returning to her. The Uruk-hai continued to taunt her. Throws that would kill an ordinary man, did not seem to faze the monster. She finally threw her knives point down into the ground in frustration and unsheathed her sword.
The Voyeur had witnessed killings, had participated in killings before, but never like this. What he had participated in was internal; this was gruesome in its very brutality.
She started with its... his arms; the Uruk-hai continued his rant, never ending, never stopping, her sword answering his... its goading taunts. Body parts flew.
"Elf-whore. You do not have the guts to kill me..."
The sword moved, swiftly, parallel to the ground and the... thing's head flew several feet, the blade severing through muscle, bone, and hair in one, foul swoop. Black, raucous blood spurted from the severed artery.
And at that point, she lost it. The voyeur watched her gaze, her very eyes turn red with blood lust. With a hoarse yell, she attacked the motionless bodies of the Uruk-hai, arms, legs, intestines flying...
And everything froze.
The wind blew through the long hair of the Voyeur.
"She will do what she must."
The Voyeur turned, looking for the voice. The Big Elf stood next to him.
"She will do what she must." He pointed to the hill, where she now knelt on her knees, spewing the contents of her stomach. The Voyeur looked on in horror at the devastation, the destruction that one, solitary woman created.
"Do not blame her."
He whipped his head around to the Elf, his hair in his eyes.
"Blame her? Why...!"
"Do not blame her. They would have raped her, abused her, tortured her. They would have toyed with her until she lost her mind. She would have become another Celebrian." The Elf looked in sorrow at the heaving woman. "These were dark times in a dark place. Would be that she was not living in them again." Both Elf and Voyeur looked over to the knoll, where she continued to be sick. "She will hit the wall. She will hit it soon, she will hit it hard and you must be there. She will have no choice but to not only admit to, but to accept the inevitable. Her wrath will be swift, vile. She will spew her fury at what the Valar have done to her in an uncontrollable frenzy. Men, Wizards, Elves will fall beneath her foot and the glass will shatter. She is my greatest treasure, my most precious jewel. Help her."
In silence, the Elf began to pile the bodies, the body parts and set them afire. And as the watcher looked on, he heard her voice whisper to him on the wind...
`Reservo mea. Reservo mea.'
Severus fell from the bed, stumbling straight for the bathroom, his own stomach retching. The smell of blood and bile was thick within the confines of his room. And as he leaned on the coolness of the porcelain, he heard again her words...
Save me. Save me.
~*~*~*~
Despite the unusually pleasant evening between the two, Bronwyn emotionally withdrew into herself, clinging to the last vestiges of her grief. She remained remote and did not venture from her chambers late again.
Severus could sense her tamping her emotions, her fury down into a small, hidden box. It was if she had decided that if she refused to think on it, it would go away.
But her anger festered. Snape could feel it churning at her insides.
The rains continued, tapering off to an irritating mist, most days. She developed a cough, a nagging, tickling cough that she refused aid for. She drank endless cups of hot tea, peppermint sticks stirred or crushed in the pot. Her obstinance irritated Severus, as did the smell of peppermint which permeated even his rooms. During the days, she roamed the corridors, talking to portraits, joking with Sir. Nicolas, cursing Peeves.
Pestering Argus Filch.
"So, have you EVER truly beaten a student? Or is that just wishful thinking on your part?"
Filch glared, his faithful kitty companion, Mrs. Norris clutched to his breast.
"Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?"
"Nope. Figure you had been here awhile. You could tell me a few things." Bronwyn sat gingerly on his desk, bare toes dangling over the floor, munching on an apple.
"I do not wish to talk to you! Go away."
She smiled and swung herself noiselessly to the floor. "Well, I would think it's been a while since a woman came to talk to you, you would be pleased." She sashayed to the door. "Guess I was wrong."
"Guess you were." Filch waited until she had left, before addressing the cat.
"She's weird, she is."
~*~*~*~
Severus walked on cat's paws into her private chambers, listening to commotion upstairs.
"Remus! Honey please! Put your hand, here, like this!"
A raven winged eyebrow lifted. What on earth were they doing?
"The Wizard is most inept, lirimaer." Ah, the Elf as well? Two of them, at once? What kind of deviant life - style had she led in this Undying Land of hers?
"Now, wait a minute!" Remus' voice was raised a slight notch. "I have never done this before! Give me a chance!"
Sounds of her placating the Werewolf could be heard. While keeping his ears attuned to the goings on in the room above him, Severus removed the snake armband from his robes, looking for somewhere inconspicuous to place it.
"Remus. Pay no heed to Rumil. He and I have been doing this for years and so, he has a great deal of practice." In his minds eye, Severus could `see' her glowering at the Elf. But practice at what?
"Here, Remus... put your hand... there.... Nai...... yesssss... now move your hips.. No... no.... you would scare a girl thrusting your hips like that... ouch! Nononono!..."
"I'm sorry. I am so clumsy."
" It's okay..."
"He does not have the..."
"Rumil! Be quiet! You are supposed to be helping!"
Slowly, Severus turned around and spied the small door near the entrance of her private chambers.
Her office. So small and innocuous, so easy to forget. He crept to the doorway.
"Here honey." Snape grimaced at the use of the endearment. "Put you hand back here and watch how you move that thing this time." The Potion Master stepped through the doorway.
"Lumos." he whispered.
If her chambers were pleasantly cluttered, this room was a disorganized mess! Stacks and stacks of parchment, books, lay everywhere. A long, archer's bow - Haldir's, apparently - stood in the corner, the string hanging loose next to the polished wood. Another portfolio of drawings lay on the desk, but it was surrounded by piles and piles of music, small round silver discs... he scanned the titles of several books...
Choral Arranging - expanded edition by Hawley Ades. Twentieth Century Music - a history of musical style in modern Europe and America by Robert P. Morgan, Yale University . A History of Keyboard Literature by Stewart Gordon.
He picked up the nearest book.
Mostly Harmless. Douglas Adams.
Seeing a dark recess beneath papers and books, Severus gently stowed the armband beneath it. Deactivating the lighting spell, he turned around to go back towards the stairs.
And almost tripped over Amadeus.
"Remus. Tell you what. Watch Rumil one more time. Rumil... yes. Watch how he holds me... see?"
Snape stared at the creature at his feet. There was disdain on its face as the wolf peered around to see what the Dark Professor had been into and made a sound horribly similar to the noise one makes when air escapes angrily between one's teeth. Amadeus chuffed in annoyance and nosed his way around Snape, retrieving the arm band and going up the stairs, with the band gently clamped in his jaws. As he reached the midway point, he looked back at Snape, the message in his eyes clear.
Are you coming up or not?
"Remus, see how he...."
"I get it! Let me! Let me!" The sounds of shuffling bodies could be heard and as Severus came up the stairwell, the sounds of Tommy Dorsey rose from the walls.
Oh Gods. She was teaching Remus to dance.
~*~*~*~
Clap for the Wolfman
He gonna rate your record high
(If you got the curves baby, I got the angles)
Clap for the Wolfman
You go Diggin' `Til the day you die!
(You thought she was diggin' you, but She was diggin' me!)Clap for the Wolfman Guess Who
~*~*~*~
The rains eventually tapered off, the lawns sodden, almost flooded. She awoke one morning to bright sunshine coming through the clear ceiling of the sunroom, its playful rays dancing over the room, into the confines of her bed.
"Wake up! Wake up!" Rumil's voice pierced the quiet. The covers were jerked from her body, as she stretched. Amadeus made a grumbling noise and he rooted down beneath the covers next to her body.
"Rumil! You are an Orc! Go away!" Bronwyn rolled over and snuggled into the furry coat of the wolf.
"Bronwyn! It is a beautiful day out! Let us not sit in this dreary fortress, but go outside and do something... outdoorsy!" Had she rolled over and looked at her brother - in - law, she would have been caught up in his infectious smile.
But she did not roll over, nor did she open her eyes. Instead, she put her head under her pillow. "Go have fun!" Her hand waved uselessly in the air.
The pillow flew away from the bed. "Oh please, Lirimaer! Come with me and shoot arrows or throw knives or grab your sword. `Tis too beautiful a morning to loll in bed!"
Yes, it was, she wanted to say. Many mornings long ago...
Long ago....
No. Past was past. No use lingering or grieving...
~*~*~*~
Severus looked up from his cauldron, only his eyes moving; moving towards her rooms. He felt it, felt her grief and desire well up quickly, only to be pushed down, pushed aside. His eyes narrowed. She no longer desired to sleep; she was corking the bottle herself and heating it to a dangerous level. If she did not accept the inevitable and culminate her grieving - and soon - she would completely collapse. He resumed the methodical stirring, his eyes, his mind continually focused on the happenings across the hall.
~*~*~*~
She rolled over and grabbed another pillow, upsetting the animal beneath the covers. Amadeus poked his head out and laid his head across the curve of her backside, his midnight blue eyes staring at the Elf.
"Go away!"
That pillow was pulled away as well.
"I will get the Wizard!"
Bronwyn rolled over and glared at her beloved friend. Despite the fact that the castle was crawling with Wizards, they both knew which `one' he referred to.
"I hate you and you have the breath of a Warg! Did Madam Hooch turn you down last night?"
Rumil smirked.
"Nay. You love me, I have brushed my teeth, so I taste all minty-fresh and Anne-Marie was most agreeable last night!" His smile fell just a little. "Bronwyn, please. Your lungs ache with the grit you have been breathing. They need the sunshine; you know this to be true. You have spent much too long in these dank halls and within the walls of that dusty library. Haldir would be most upset seeing how you have let yourself slide. Bring your sword, bring your knives, I'll bring my extra bow, come to breakfast." He pulled her into a sitting position, Amadeus nosing her back, prodding her gently. He cupped her face. "These Wizards... they have no clue who you are. All they have seen is you lying on tables reading books. You remain in the shadows, aloof. You hide. You hide from the world, their world. They have heard you raise the music in anger." His eyes lit up with a mischievous brilliance. "Rock n Roll, Bronny! KEGGER!"
"Naughty Limericks? You want naughty limericks?" She allowed Amadeus to prod her from the bed and she stretched more, reaching for the ceiling.
"No." Rumil pulled her closely into a bear hug. "I want to see my Lirimaer. I want to see glimmers of that woman who drove my brothers and myself insane. I want to see Celeborn's Tithen Aras. She is in there somewhere."
Somewhere.
~*~*~*~
Snape felt her... stir.
Why was he worried?
~*~*~*~
"Oh, alright." she groused. "But..." and with this, she angrily waved her finger under his nose, "but only my knives. I can't shoot an arrow for shit and I'm dangerously clumsy with this sword. I damn near took Haldir's arm off just playing around a few millennium ago!"
She shooed the grinning Elf from her rooms and Rumil went down the stairs, feeling quite proud of himself.
~*~*~*~
Strapped in the chair of the city's gas chamber
Why I'm here I can't quite remember
The surgeon general says it's hazardous to breathe
I'd have another cigarette but I can't see
Tell me who you're gonna believeParadise City Guns n Roses
~*~*~*~
Dumbledore had set them up on the Quidditch pitch. The sand was deep and soft and Bronwyn despised the way she sank in it.
"Why on Earth..." she questioned Remus, while kicking up small puffs of sand.
"Softer to land on when one falls or gets knocked off their broom." he shrugged. "It is no big deal."
The sour look she gave Rumil said it all.
What staff there was at Hogwarts that day were milling around in the stands. "Is this safe?" Professor Flitwick had gone down close to see, peering over the edge of the high stand.
"She is down there, we are up here, so if her knives are still wild, she should be contained." Albus said cheerfully.
No one heard Severus mumble in the corner.
"One hopes."
Bronwyn and Rumil stood next to the target. The Elf's quiver was full, delicate white arrows stuffing his quiver and he looked down into the rosy glow of his companion.
"How far, Lirimaer?"
Bronwyn looked into the stands. "Go away!" She called upwards. "There isn't anything here but sand and stupidity!" She waved her hand at the small crowd. Snape could feel her underlying feeling of annoyance. She did not want to be watched.
Well, she should not have made such a spectacle of herself at breakfast!
Bronwyn had shown up to breakfast wearing what she had called her `battle gear' - black jeans, black long sleeve tee, and a black calf length, sleeveless vest that did not cover her knives. Her hair was loose, braided back over the ears similar to Rumil's side braids. If one looked closely, they could just make out the outline of a snake on her left arm, under the sleeve of her shirt..
It was beyond a doubt that being plied with good food and cheesecake had been good for her. She was filling out and no longer looked emaciated. In fact, she looked rather...
Well, there was plenty of her. Generous curves filled out the clothing and she was obviously comfortable with the added poundage. In truth, it looked good on her. Her skin had a healthy glow and she walked with purpose. In fact, she entered the Great Hall that morning, throwing the doors open, boot heels clicking on the stone floor.
"Albus, `maelamin. Rumil wants to shoot things and he seems to think that I need to carve them, slice them and dice them!" Her knives were out, spinning on her fingers. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! "Where is the safest place to do that?"
And so they found themselves on the Quidditch field, spectators up high in the stands.
"Again, Bronwyn... how far?"
Her snarled gaze left the stands and focused on the eyes of the tall Elf. "Eh! Fifty paces." The two walked it off.
With a graceful swoop, Rumil removed an arrow from his quiver and quickly, in a fluid motion, let it fly.
It landed just a hair from the center. Before a breath could be taken, two more joined it. One aside the other.
"Damn." Rumil whispered. "I am off my mark." He turned to Bronwyn and bowed. "Lirimaer!"
"Off your mark?" She nodded into the stands where Madam Hooch, Professor Sprout, Madam Trelawney, and even Minerva McGonagall were cheering profusely. "Looks pretty damned arrogant to me!" Her face fell and she whispered, "Do I have to do this?" She gestured again into the stands. "I understand getting me out of the castle and into the air. My bronchial tubes thank you, truly they do. But, still..." her words tapered off.
"Chicken."
"What?"
Rumil jutted his chin forward. "Boooock."
"Stop that!"
"Boooock. Booock. Bok...bok...bok.."
"This is not funny."
"Bok bok bok bok boooooock..."
"I'm not laughing."
Rumil walked away from her, calling of his shoulder. "I could beat you with my eyes blindfolded. I know it. You know it. " He spun on his heel, kicking up a patch of dirt, and stabbed a finger at her. "You cannot hit the target! Boooock!"
"Oh. I cannot, can I?"
Her grin was snarky; evil even. The wind picked up slightly and her hair blew behind her, along with the tail of her vest. The top layer of sand swirled devilishly around hers and the Elf's feet. Her knives popped out and began to spin on her fingers furiously. Her calling of Beavis could not be heard over the rising guitars reverberating off the walls of the field, nor over the screaming on pitch of Axl Rose.
~*~*~*~
Just a' urchin livin' under the street
I'm a hard case that's tough to beat
I'm your charity case
So buy me somethin' to eat
I'll pay you at another time
Take it to the end of the line~*~*~*~
And with the words "Take me down, to the very last city..." Bronwyn flung two wicked knives at the target.
The g-force of the winds depressed their deadly mechanisms, causing them to open before hitting the target.
The white feathers of the arrows were shaved, as both knives entered the exact bulls eye of the target. With the arrows still shaking from the rocking of the target, she jerked her wrists, effectively calling back the two knives. They were a blur in the air as they returned to her hands.
Amadeus sat with Remus, his eyes never leaving the form of his mistress.
Sybil Trelawney stood bolt upright, her eyes wide with shock. Dumbledore noticed her sudden ascent to her feet.
So did Snape.
"Too easy, mellon."
Bronwyn's eyebrows rose a good inch. "Easy?" The sensual grin was back. "Make it hard." Her hips ground to the beat of the maniacal drumming.
"OOH!" Rumil returned her naughty gaze. "Feeling playful, are we?"
The knives spun into the black holster and she lifted her hands, palm up, into the air. "Chicken - schmicken! You are so full of bullshit! The sun is shining, I am outdoors with my best friend and..." she gestured up into the stands, "I have a fucking audience. What more could a girl ask for?"
Rumil laughed hard, as he bounced off another fifty paces, chanting, "Bronny's back... Bronny's back..."
"What?"
"You said the `f' word!"
The tips of her fingers covered her mouth. "Oops. I did. My bad." She joined him at the line he had drawn in the sand with the toe of his boot. Again, three arrows hit the target.
And again the music rose, screaming guitars and vocals rising in the air and two lethal knives buried themselves to the hilt in the target.
Further and further out they went, after pulling the arrows from the target.
The result was always the same. Three arrows at the center. Two knives, shaving the feathers.
Twice, Rumil offered her his bow.
Twice, she denied him, finally snarling at him to drop the subject, lest she leave him standing in the sand.
Dumbledore watched the exchange between woman and Elf with great interest.
"Severus." He approached the dark Wizard, leaning in the shadows, not seeming to notice anything, but seeing all. "Do you notice anything odd about her behavior?"
He is asking me what I behold, when I know he sees it all, Snape thought to himself, angered at the Headmaster's perusal of the goings on on the field. And I suppose he would wish for me to expand on them for him. Which would be simple enough, if I were so inclined. On one hand she is effervescent. But it exists as a cover for her anger. She is enjoying getting out into the sunshine, she has been cooped up too long. It has cleared out her lungs, and yes, she has been ill for several days. To the point where I was ready to drag her into Madam Pomfrey's infirmary. Despite that, she has gained weight, her very being radiates with vitality. She enjoys the feel of the knives in her hands. She has stepped up to the line of acceptance, but she refuses to cross it. The Elf is angering her by trying to push her over and the only thing that keeps her from carving him is her love for him. I suppose he would like me to tell him how the air shimmered around her when she conjured that noise and that the sight of that alone sent chills up my spine.
Albus refused to wilt under the glare of his Potions Master. And he was not taken aback one bit by Snape's answer.
"She exists. Therefore, she is odd."
~*~*~*~
Sybil Trelawney fidgeted. That was nothing new; the woman fidgeted all the time and no one paid her any mind. She had been seeing signs and portents ever since the Muggle Professor's husband had died and they had escalated since her arrival. Her unconventional ways and her attachment to the Dark One had kept Sybil at a distance, but she could not stand by anymore.
As the Elf and Bronwyn gathered their things on the field, she approached Albus and Severus. Severus made her very nervous, so she tried her best to ignore him and focused on Albus.
Albus had never made her feel silly. Tentatively, she touched him on the sleeve.
"Albus..."
The kindly wizard turned to the befuddled witch, gently clasping the clawed fingers. "Yes, Sybil?"
Furtive eyes glanced over to Severus and then quickly darted back to the Headmaster.
"It is about the Muggles Studi... Bronwyn."
"Are you seeing things again, Sybil?" Severus mocked.
"Seeing things? I always see things, as you well know. But," and bolstered by her anger, she shoved a thin finger towards the Potion Master, "although you will not, you should heed my words." She turned back to the Headmaster. "She has an aura the likes I have never seen. It is golden and pulses bright blue. Rainbows spark when she plays her music."
Severus barked in laughter.
The Divination Professor drew herself up to her full height and wagged her finger at him. "You, Severus, you especially should pay heed. Your aura changes around her. It has been changing since she stepped foot into the Great Hall and you espied her. It has moved from the bleak, murkiness to neon blue and as time passes, it becomes brighter. Even that beast of hers has an aura - his coat radiates white."
She took a deep breath.
"Regardless, a dark heavy pall lingers over her. Evil hounds her footsteps, hounds yours. Whatever it is she seeks, she needs to find it and find it quickly."
Sybil's breathing was labored and her eyes dilated as she backed up, realizing all of a sudden that she was literally against Severus. He arched a dark eyebrow.
"Perhaps, Sybil, you would like me to bring her upstairs to your over- perfumed lair and you may read her tea leaves or play with the lines in her palms. 38000 years, you should see quite a bit."
Her jaw flapped for several seconds, before the woman skittered away, mumbling to herself.
"Really Severus, your digs were totally unnecessary. Sybil only..."
"Tried to help, I know." Severus leaned over as if to whisper to the Headmaster, however his eyes followed Bronwyn as she and Rumil were now leaving the field. "But she told me nothing you or I did not already know. Albus, I know why you keep her employed; it is a noble gesture..."
"Indeed. I am so very pleased you noticed..."
"... however, Sybil sees death around every corner and it is no secret that Bronwyn is hiding from the world here. So, please do not ask me to take her seriously." They watched as Bronwyn and Rumil left the field, Hagrid behind, carrying the target.
"Severus. Come look." Quickly, for an old man, Albus made his way down into the paddock and stopped Hagrid, having the groundskeeper set the target into the sunlight. He motioned Rumil and Bronwyn to him
"Bronwyn, may I see your knives? I wish for you to tell me how they work."
Bronwyn looked at Snape before looking at Dumbledore and then almost reluctantly, whipped one of the knives from its scarred and worn holster.
It was an ugly piece of metal.
They were black, black as pitch, and consisted of three blades, folded in. The inner blade was a few inches longer than the encased outer blades. She held her hand out to Rumil, who took a drying cloth from the belt of his tunic. She wadded the cloth, and gently touched the tip of the longest blade.
The outer knives slung out, creating a "W", the edges, thinner than a razor, the sharpness obvious. Severus could see how they could decapitate a man or beast. When she removed her hand, they slung back into their original position.
"Bronwyn, may I see them? May Severus?"
Again, without a word, Bronwyn turned the knife in her hand, holding it delicately by the edge in her palm, leaving the handle for Albus to grasp. The elderly Wizard made an interesting face and muttered "Interesting." before turning the knife and handing it to Severus in the same manner.
Severus almost gasped aloud. It shook, vibrated, tingling almost painfully. Quickly, without allowing his unease to show, he handed it back to Bronwyn.
"Do you feel the vibrations, Bronwyn?"
She spun the knife, comfortable with the feel of it. "No. Haldir and Legolas mentioned they shook, but the facts are they were made for me. They answer only to me. Haldir spent many years trying to get them to work for him in the Undying Lands." Her face fell, reholstering the knife. "In truth, they only started answering to me again, at Haldir's death." Her smile was mirthless. "By your leave, gentlemen." She turned on her heel and slowly walked off with the tall Elf.
Hagrid came up, carrying the heavy target. "Hagrid, set that down for a moment, please." The groundskeeper set it down as requested.
"Severus. Look closely."
The target was peppered all around the center with round holes, holes made from arrows. But as the Potions Master peered closely, he realized...
There were only 2 sets of triple knife slits. One set for each knife.
She had placed, thrown the knives into the same set of holes. Exactly. Repeatedly.
Impossibly.
*** I got my hat... on I got my boots... dusty I wanna be a cowboy And you can be my cowgirl...
~*~*~*~
Day after day, the chicken battle continued. Day after day, Bronwyn and Rumil went into the sunshine and fired arrows and knives. Day after day, Rumil hounded her to use the bow. Day after day, she refused.
And her anger festered.
As the novelty wore off, fewer and fewer of the staff showed up to watch, much to Bronwyn's relief. Only Hagrid, Remus, Snape, and Madame Hooch came to the fields on a regular basis. And with the small crowd gone, grandstanding between the Elf and Woman ran rampant. If Rumil's aim was `off his mark', as he had claimed, then he honed and perfected it in the few weeks that followed. Snape cautiously checked the target and her aim stayed true.
It was almost like magic.
Several times, Rumil brought the bow that had belonged to his famed older brother. She steadfastly refused to look at it, much less touch it. But Rumil continued to pester and pester her.
Amadeus would sit in the stands, usually next to Remus, but sometimes next to Severus, watching the goings on with great interest.
~*~*~*~
The day awoke cloudy, angry and Bronwyn's mood matched the sky. For a time, after Haldir's death, her cycles had been off - non -existent even, and as her body returned to its natural state, her system had begun to resume its normal functioning.
She woke up cramping, bloated and snarlier than hell. She barked at Amadeus for getting underfoot, cried when she thought she might have hurt her companion's feelings, snarled at Peeves and at breakfast, sat in a self- contained snit, daring anyone to bid her good morning. Her tee shirt said it all...
Beloved by few; Feared by all
She made it known she did not want to go outside for air.
Rumil threatened to haul her down over his shoulder.
Snape threatened to help him.
"Fine!" she finally yelled. She gestured to the enchanted ceiling, rolling clouds visible."But I refuse to go all the way to the Quidditch field! It's disgusting out and I do not wish to be caught in the rain!" She stormed from the Hall, Rumil close behind. Amadeus shook his shaggy head and then followed.
The air in her wake shimmered.
"She comes. Shecomesshecomesshecomes." Sybil Trelawney's voice had dropped several octaves, solid and forceful for a change. "The Storm comes and She will shatter as the glass breaks. The Protector cries out, for he is helpless to stop what must happen, leaving Elrond's child to choose and accept destiny. Drums, the drums in the deep call, call the demon in the dark and only the fire and the ice combined can stop it." Her eyes roamed wildly, focusing on Severus. "The fire and ice must merge. Only merged can they stop what will be."
Silence. Blessed silence.
"Sybil?" Minerva's voice was soft, imploring.
"Yes?" Her voice had returned to its normal airiness.
"Perhaps, you would like to go to your rooms and have some tea?"
"That would be nice." Slowly, woman stood and as she left the hall, it did not seem that her feet touched the ground.
As soon as she left the Hall, Remus slowly counted outloud to ten. And then the entire company ran to the courtyard.
~*~*~*~
Rumil stood with Haldir's bow. Despite the fact that the wind was up, he had not missed the middle of the target.
Neither had she.
The wind whipped robes and hair, mirroring the mood of Bronwyn.
"Try the bow, Bronwyn."
The knives whipped into the target and back.
"No."
Several throws later...
"Try the bow, Bronwyn."
"No."
Wind churned upwards, blowing Bronwyn's and Rumil's hair into wild whipcords above their heads.
The knives flew, aimed at the Elf. Rumil heard them whistle past his ears. Heard them embed in the wall behind him and knowing if he moved....
They whistled back past his ears.
His smile never dimmed. By Melkor's Chains, what possessed him...
"If I wished new ear piercings, Lirimaer, I would go to a jeweler."
Her look was furious, hard.
"Try the bow, Bronwyn." He held it out. "What could it hurt?"
She snatched the slender strap of wood and Severus stood full upright, eyes narrowing. It was as long, as tall as she. There was no possible way she could use it - control it.
"I will do this. I will scatter arrows everywhere - quite possibly skewer a Wizard or two and then you will leave me be with this, do you understand?"
Rumil's hands were outstretched in supplication. "I will never ask again." She did not hear his whispered, "today." He handed her one arrow.
The bow was ponderous, too large and Severus noticed several Wizards step backwards into alcoves and niches, some even put up protective wards. He smirked to himself. Cowards. The wind was blowing strongly and it got under even Severus' robes. She nocked the arrow and still looking at the Elf was badgering him in that Elvish prattle she called Sindarian, lifted the bow in the general direction of the target and let the arrow fly.
The silence was such, despite the wind, that even she heard the arrow hit the target with a resounding thud.
Rumil's smile fell from his face.
Severus could feel, feel her thoughts shift as she slowly turned towards the direction of the arrow.
Oh sweet Elbereth, who did I hit?
The arrow was in the exact center of the target.
"N'uma...." It was a whisper, floating on the wind. Severus knew that word, she had spat it at him several times in anger.
No.
Her right hand flew out towards Rumil, who was wide eyed as well, in shock. Clearly, he had expected her to hit the target, but not dead on in the center. Quickly, the Elf recovered and he unshouldered his own quiver and slid it onto hers. Grasping the bow more firmly, her eye fixed on the target, she began to unload and unleash.
Over
and over
and over.
In a time to fast to comprehend, thirty white - feathered arrows were embedded, clustered tightly, into the bulls eye. Several were split by others.
All eyes were on the target.
"N'Uma!" Severus heard the quiver fall, turned his attention to her just in time to see her fling the bow to the grass. "N'UMA!" She fell to her knees and Remus stepped forward from behind Snape to go to her, but he held the werewolf back.
The dam that held her emotions in check, shattered, broke and her fury, so long contained and held, burst forth.
"NO! N'UMA!" The knuckles on her fists were white and she screamed to the heavens. "How many times will you destroy my world? How many times will you take what is mine? What the hell was I supposed to do? Stand by and let them die? You are bastards!" She had returned to her feet and turned in a slow circle. The wind had picked up and now lightening flashed, forking over the heavens. "You sit in your White Halls and sing and sing and sing and think nothing of destroying what was so meticulously planted. I have sacrificed my life for you! I have sacrificed my love for you! I have sacrificed my children for you! What more did you desire? That I sing the funeral dirges for a dead race? I wish you would tell me what more you want from me!" Rain began to pelt down, stinging little needles and Rumil started to go to her, only to be held off by a growling Amadeus.
Slowly she lowered her gaze. She canvassed the Wizards that stood in the shadows, fire burning in her eyes.
Remus stepped behind Severus...
Her hands, fisted, came up around her ears...
"I... cannot..."
And the fury of Steve Vai raised...
The scream of the guitar railed over the wind, over the rain and she focused on the walls of the school.
Severus saw the air around her waver...
A multi-colored glass window high above him shattered, shards of colorful glass falling with the rain. Cries from his fellow Wizards were audible.
And another.
And another.
He felt her tamp down inside.
"N'uma! Not their fault!" Her hands, still clenched in fury, clamped to her sides as she ducked her head and ran into the building.
The rain was now pouring.
Rumil started to follow her, again cut off by a snarling, growling Amadeus.
"Amadeus, boy..."
He was answered by exposed fangs.
Even Remus tried to placate the animal.
"Amadeus..."
And he was answered the same way.
Cold indigo eyes locked into black ones.
Amadeus went to Severus and growling lowly, nosed Snape behind the knees.
Go.
He wasted no time. Locking in on her path, he followed her, felt her movement, up and up the stairwells, the corridors of the school.
Into the highest reaches.
Of course, she chose the tower with the most glass.
Silently, he waited on the stairwell, probing, waiting.
Feeling her fury. As it welled, as she tamped it, as it welled again...
As she focused it.
Ah. That, he could work with. Controlled anger, well aimed...
Silent as a whisper, he stepped into the room.
At first, he did not see her, but soon, as his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he noticed her in the blackest recess, in the shadows.
"Do you know what happened? Do you know what they allowed to happen?" Her voice was low, ancient.
"Enlighten me, as only you can." Severus stood in the middle of the room, coiled in, hands tucked, robes pooled at his feet.
She withdrew from the shadows, eyes gleaming in fanatical anger. "I saved your sorry asses. And how was I repaid? A wizard decided Voldemort wasn't enough! A Wizard decided his own power wasn't enough! He wanted mine as well."
"Bronwyn, why would anyone want your power?"
"You think this is the extent of my power?" Again, angry heavy sounds of music reverberated from the walls. "You think this is all I do?" For a moment, they stood not in the tower of Hogwarts, but in the middle of the Tower Two of the Twin Towers as it fell burning, grinders screeching around them, screaming, screaming, fear....
Back.
Silence.
Her voice was a whisper, her body against his. "I know how to torment an Elf to turn him into an Orc."
Piggy screams joined the guitar.
"I know how to create, birth a Uruk hai..."
Mudpits in the bowels of the Earth, writhing, moving...
"I know where the last of the Balrogs hide..."
A huge, fiery demon, wings the span of...
Cool wind through the tower.
Fury focused.
Severus smiled. He felt it. And it drew him like a moth to flame.
"A Wizard decided their power was not enough, so they want yours and the added perks it brings."
"Yes."
He was now circling her, a long finger trailing, slowly spinning in the air around her. "This Wizard thinks to use your bow to gain access to your power, you knowledge, and learn how to and the whereabouts of."
"Yes."
Snape came to a slow halt behind Bronwyn, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. He tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned over, whispering in the softly rounded edge. "But we are Elrond's children. How did one of your children become one's of Elrond's as well?"
She turned her head and faced him, her grin snarky as any he had ever conjured. His gaze focused on the moist tip of a pointed tongue that licked the bow of her lip.
"My grandsons, sons of my daughter Faeowynne, were fathered by the twins sons of Elrond. Elrohir and Elladan. No one knows how long they lived, when they died, or if they ever DID die. His sons stayed behind, as did two of my beloved children. Our family, descendants were also very close to the family and descendants of Arwen, the Evenstar of Imladris, for many generations. She was not only the Queen of Gondor, she was also the daughter of Elrond. Think that with all that history, our children did not mix?"
Severus mulled that for a moment. It was possible...
"This child orchestrated events that killed my rightful heir. This same child orchestrated events that caused My Beloved, Cormamin, my Heart to be cruelly murdered in my arms, forcibly removed from me, for the sole purpose to weaken me, to more easily access the knowledge I contain. He could not kill me, for one cannot force the dead to give up their secrets. He did this to cripple me, to make me wish for death, to do anything to leave this world."
"He almost succeeded." Her hands came together, index fingers creating a steeple as she folded them in front of her face, long fingers tapping her lip.
"How will you... deal... with this child?"
She snorted. "I will make him pay. I will make his life a living hell. I will personally kick his sorry ass from one end of Valinor to the other. Think to take mine from me? I have brought down worse things than a piddling Wizard with delusions of grandeur..."
"Ah, yes." Severus rolled his eyes to the darkened ceiling, as he drummed his fingers on his shoulders. "You have killed a dragon..." he felt that anger waver and focus on him... "Nonono, Bronwyn. Focus that anger back where it belongs. Not on me. Focus on that which you seek revenge."
She took a deep breath, but did as he demanded. "So, you are with me in this venture?"
He continued to peruse the ceiling of the room, venomous sarcasm dripping, "Oh, like what better things do I have to do? Teaching children is so... not worthy of a moment of time..."
She backed into him, giggling evilly, her shoulders rubbing into his chest.
Electric tingles charged through him.
"Now," her finger continued to tap on her lip, "what to do first..."
"Let them think you are shattered." Snape suggested. "Let them think you have hit the bottom and barely wish to go on."
Because go on, you must, he added to himself.
"Oh. That is easy enough." She stepped out of his embrace, leaving cool air in her space. He held back his desire to reach out and bring her back into his arms. She turned and looked at him dolefully. "This will quite drain me. Will you help me?"
Severus scowled and gestured with his fingers, `come on with it.'
She clenched her hands in fists and the music rose, noise noise and more noise, decibels over what was standard, reverberating off the walls, aimed at the glass.
"Let them know they have angered me!"
Her aura shimmered and every pane of glass in the room exploded outwards, showering the grounds in shards of glass for hundreds of yards. Severus ducked his head and closed his eyes at the brightness of the sudden light.
When the dust and sound cleared, he saw her lying on the floor, unconscious.
~*~*~*~
Nai - yes
N'uma - no
`Maelamin - My love
Mellon - friend
Lirimaer - Lovely One
Tithen Ares - Little Deer
Cormamin - my Heart~*~*~*~
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