Lady From Beyond the Sea – Chapter 27 – Darkness
Zandra: She has water power, which includes weather power. She is slowly regaining her memory of who and what she is. She is Dae Kular, which literally means “light warrior,” but she thinks it is something more.
Tinania: Zandra’s eldest sister, she became Dae Kular and went away. She has fire power.
Jaessa: Zandra’s other sister, described as sweet, and calm. She has earth power, which includes plants.
Zandra’s Mother: associated with stars
Zandra’s Father: associated with shadows
Dyryn: Zandra once thought she loved him, but he tricked her and imprisoned her in Dol Guldur He had a ring, and became the Witchking of Angmar. Zandra, Eowyn, and Merry all helped kill him.
Gallin: Boy from Rohan, a friend of Zandra’s, died at Helm’s Deep
Zandra walked through the battlefield, staring in horror at the carnage. So many faces, people she didn’t know, and those she did. Eomer, Elfhelm, Theoden. There was Halbarad, and Hirluin, and Grimbold, and the Prince of Imrahil. Too many faces, she could not absorb the horror all at once. There, there was Gimli! Dear Gimli! And Aragorn, her dear friend. Far they had traveled together. But where was . . . she stopped suddenly.
Zandra stared down at the still form before her, her body numb with shock. It could not be possible. She had not yet told him that she loved him. She didn’t have the chance. He couldn’t be dead, she couldn’t lose him! She could not go on without him.
She fell to her knees, and drew his head into her lap. His blue eyes stared upward, unseeing, glazed over in death. Her breath started coming in deep gulping gasps, then all at once the pain was too much and she screamed aloud with all her might.
“I don’t know what’s wrong Legolas,” Aragorn said, trying to suppress his worry. It didn’t work, Legolas could see it quite plainly. “There is something more at work here than just the dark from striking the Witch-king. Can you tell me anything about the shadows in her past? What more has she remembered?”
Legolas gulped, grasping her clenched hand tightly, “She was in love with the Witch-king before he was such.” The words were painful to say, even to Aragorn.
Aragorn’s brow crinkled, “So there was more reason for her coming than just not wanting to be left behind. That is good.” He sighed, “But she should not have had to fight him, even though she was not entirely alone. What else?”
“I don’t know. I thought that we had begun to get past her determination not to love, but that might have an effect.” Legolas racked his brain for a possible source of this darkness that hung over his beloved. He could think of nothing aside from that which had constantly haunted her. He turned his gaze back to her ashen face, and lightly traced one of the faint cuts that lined her cheek and arms.
Shadows swirled about Zandra, forming a hollow tube along which she ran. She could not tell what she ran from, only that she must flee. She ran faster than she had known she could, her sides ached, her lungs burned. The air was putrid, filled with the stench of decaying flesh.
Suddenly she was no longer within the tube, she stood upon a high shelf, the black land of Mordor spread out below her.
She did not question how she knew it was Mordor, nor how she came to be there, her only thought was centered on that beloved traveler who carried their only hope deep into the land without hope. Frodo! He must be here!Zandra found herself suddenly within a dark tower, staring down at a wasted little figure, her heart stopped painfully. His flesh was wasted and torn, bruised and broken. If he was alive, it was not for long.
But Zandra knew that was not so. He was alone now because they were letting him heal and get back his strength before torturing him again. They would not let him die. That would be the easy way out.
She bent down to touch him, to wake him so she could bring him out of here, but suddenly she was not there any longer, she was sucked back into that swirling shadow tunnel, to come out high on the tower of Barad-dur. There, kneeling before the Great Eye of Sauron was Dyryn. In his hand he held a small golden object.
“That hand,” Aragorn said abruptly, “The darkness is coming from her hand. Why is her hand clenched like that? The rest of her body is limp.”
Legolas took her hand in both of his, and tried to pry open her fingers.
Darkness swallowed Zandra, pulling her down, down, down. Would it never end?
“Zandra,” a deep voice called, “Zandra come to me.”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“Why do you fear?”
“I am alone.” She said automatically. But no that wasn’t right, she wasn’t alone. Legolas loved her, and she loved him.
“Legolas is dead.”
“No.” She whispered, horror stricken. It could not be. But she remembered holding him in her arms, dead. She had her family, they loved her, even if she could not find them.
“If they love you why are you here without them? Why haven’t they found you?”
That’s what Dyryn had said. Dyryn. Handing the Ring to Sauron. No. If he was doing that he wouldn’t have told her . . .
“I’m so confused,” she cried.
“Come to me Child of Water, come to me, help me, and I will help you.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Melkor, one of the Valar. It is to aid me that you came here.”
“Why do you need my help?”
Finally her hand opened, and there, in her palm lay a ring, set with a red stone, glowing evilly in the sunlight.
“A Ring. One of the Nine,” Aragorn whispered in horror.
Legolas dropped her hand in alarm, and the ring tumbled from her hand, and onto the bed, and thence to the floor. Her hand clenched shut again as the ring fell from it, grasping, seeking. Immediately Legolas grabbed her hand again.
Zandra walked slowly down the hallway, grey nothingness showed between the doorways that lined the Hall. What is this place? Why does it seem familiar?
“Melkor?” Zandra called. Something was wrong. Something had changed. He had asked for her help, and suddenly she was here.
Never had she felt so alone. Not even in the depths of Dol Guldur. Then she had thought that at least her family missed her as much as she missed them. Now she did not have that comfort. And she had lost the newfound comfort of Legolas’s love.
“Zandra, awake,” Aragorn commanded. “Call her again Legolas.”
“My love, please, come back to me. Zandra, please.”
Her eyelids fluttered, and opened. Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused.
“Zandra,” Legolas urged. Oh please, be all right!
“Legolas?” His name was a mere breath on her lips. “Oh Legolas! Don’t die! You can’t be dead!”
He gathered her into his arms, “Shhhh, I’m not dead, I’m here. I’m here. It’s all right. I’m here.”
Aragorn bathed her head again with the athelas.
“Legolas?” her eyes focused on his face. “Legolas? How can it be? You were dead! I held you . . . I . . .” her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes.
“It was a dream, only a dream. Oh, Zandra! I was so worried! You wouldn’t wake, even with the athelas and then we found that ring and . . .” He buried his face in her neck. “I feared you were lost forever. I couldn’t bear it, I nearly did die then.”
“Only a dream?” her voice was troubled, “It seemed so real.”
“That is only natural.” Aragorn spoke now, and Zandra jumped.
“You’re alive too! Was it all indeed a dream?”
“I know not how much was dream and how much was reality exaggerated to seem more horrible than it was,” Aragorn said, “I cannot say what the effects of that ring were on you.” His face was grim.
“Ring? What ring?” she said, her eyes wide, she looked back at Legolas.
“You were holding one of the Nine. You must have picked it up after killing Dyryn,” he said gently.
“Killing Dyryn?” she whispered, “He’s dead?”
“You’re free of him.”