"It is said that every hundred years, when the moon is blood orange, a specter roams the floor of our fair Caras Galadhon. That is why we take to our flets never to leave until morning light shines through the mallorn once more..."
"Haldir, stop telling your brothers such tales! You know good and well that our lady's ring keeps us safe from all harm." Luinithiel chastised her eldest son while giving him a warning look. "If your brothers cannot sleep this night, it will be you left to soothe them, not I!" She warned him with her most stern look. He smiled his most charming smile back at his mother, inclined his head and slowly left the family talan. She shook her head in amusement; now that he was a warden of their watch, there was no living with her arrogant first born.
The two wide-eyed elflings stared at each other nervously, then Rúmil, ever the curious one, spoke up. "Nana? Is it true? Does...does a specter roam our land as Haldir has said?"
They saw their mother's back stiffen but as she turned to them, only a smile graced her lovely face. "No such thing exists. It is but a tale to frighten the young, nothing more." Her sons let out a relieved sigh and then ran out of the door before they were late for their lessons. Luinithiel fought a sudden chill as a memory of her youth invaded her senses:
She was heading home late one evening from an autumn dance, and knowing she was already tardy and her father would be upset with her, she bypassed the trees that were crowded with revelers, and took to the forest floor. Upon doing so, she immediately felt as if she were being followed. Afraid to look behind her, she began to run towards her home. A mist seemed to envelop the very land itself as fear took hold of her usually rational demeanor. The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end as all became silent around her. She became acutely aware that the only sound in existence was her labored breathing. It was then that she stopped and turned slowly around to face whatever was behind her.
At first she saw nothing; the mist around her was as a swirl of draped fabric. Her eyes wild, straining in the dimly lit orange glow of the harvest moon as it tried to peak through the heavy mallorn leaves. The sound of crunching reached her ears. The sound was not that of leaves being trodden upon the forest floor but that of bones breaking. Unaware, she began to cry silently, tears streaming down her face. A figure stood at the end of the path she had just taken. All she could make out was the color of death itself, a dank gray shape; tall and slender, an ethereal silhouette that seemed to stare right through her. Soulless eyes of no imagined color, a mouth that was dripping ooze. She watched in horror as the source of the crunching sound manifested itself before her. For in its bony hand was the body of a still wriggling rabbit that it promptly bit into once more. And then it spoke but one word, flesh hanging from its jowls, but before she could make sense of the sound she dropped to the forest floor in a dead heap.
A loud chirp brought her out her daydream with a start. Her heart thundered against her chest and she chastised herself for her foolishness. She was sure her experience was that of an imprudent youth, but part of her knew it was all too real.
Weeks flew by and the city was ripe for celebrating the yearly harvest festival. The festival lasted a full week after the last of the harvests were stored for the harsh winter months that made most trading near impossible because of heavy snows that closed the mountain passes. Crispness chilled the air, cleansing it of the heat of the summer months. Caras Galadhon was alive with song, laughter and dance. Luinithiel smiled fondly as she watched her children make merry with the other elflings of the city.
Haldir had been gone ten days now on patrol of their borders, and her husband was due back in a week's time. She was proud of the men in her life and was sure her two youngest would also follow in the respected position of guardians of the Golden Wood.
Rúmil and Orophin, who was the older by just two years, would sit for hours listening to any stories about the guardians and their adventures. She remembered the same look of awe in Haldir's eyes when he was much the same age. Aye, they would follow the path as well.
"I dare you!"
"Are you afraid?"
"Look, he is about to cry!" were some of the taunts spoken to Orophin as the other elflings dared each other to do some foolish thing or another as children were want to do.
"Go ahead Oro! I'll go with you!" Rúmil bounced in answer to the dare of roaming the floor of the city while the full moon of orange loomed high through a clearing in the forest canopy.
Orophin was ready to protest until he saw the braid of his irksome younger brother stream past him and jump down towards the forest floor. This wouldn't do, his youngest brother would not show him up. He would never live it down. Groaning, he ran after him, taking the stairs two at a time, swearing oaths of kinslaying all the way down.
Finally hitting the fallen leaves and grass below, he looked around in a circle and panicked, for Rúmil was nowhere to be found. His heart began to beat heavier in his chest as he called out for him. "Rúmil, this is NOT funny, come out this instant! Mother is going to be ever so mad!" The only answer was the scurry of a mouse back into its nest for the night.
Ready for his brother to pop out at him from behind a rock, or a bush, or even a tree, Orophin was tense with anticipation. He continued to call out to Rúmil to no avail. The only thing he noticed was the ever-darkening forest with a tinge of an eerie orange glow about it. He gulped, suddenly remembering Haldir's tale of a specter that roamed the woodland floor. Fear ate at the nape of his neck, the hairs bristling so that he had to swipe at them. He constantly turned to look behind him, his fears getting the best of him. He swore that every time he walked, something walked with him. He fought the urge to cry. He so wished his mother was with him. Rúmil was probably already home and laughing at him with the other elflings.
Suddenly he stopped and listened. Complete silence. Deafening silence. Tingling started in his belly then moved up his spine and to his throat. The thumping of his heartbeat was the only sound in his ears. Terror welled within him and he tried to call out for Rúmil, for his mother, for Haldir, for anyone, but the words got stuck in his throat. The only sound he made was that of a tiny squeal. He tried his voice once more but found it empty. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes making his vision blurry. For a second he thought he might relieve himself as hot breath against his right ear blew tendrils of his hair against his cheek. Time stilled and he found he couldn't move; he mustn't move to look, because if he did, it would prove that he was crazy. But he had to. He couldn't help himself and slowly he turned his head towards where the breath was. He tried to scream but squeaked instead, for standing not two feet from him was the specter. It was tall and slim and as white as cream. Its eyes glowing red, and its hair stringy white with edges of red. Was it blood? Orophin's head was spinning but he could not look away. The creature's cheeks were sunken hollows and its lips were curled back in a snarl of pointed and jagged teeth. Bony, gnarled hands with dagger-sharp nails held a silvery plait. Plait? Orophin gulped. Rúmil's braid!
"Where is my brother?" Orophin forgot his fear and found his voice. The thing just opened its mouth and wailed. The sound sent shivers up his spine. It turned and ran so fast its feet barely touched the floor. Orophin sprinted after it, barely keeping it in his sight. Sprinting across the forest floor he had to watch out for fallen tree limbs and not seeing a leaf covered root, fell over it hitting his head hard against a rock.... his world went black but not before he heard that wailing again.
Waking up in a panic, Orophin yelled for Rúmil. "Shhh, calm yourself child. You are well and Rúmil is here." Luinithiel placed a cool cloth on her son's forehead.
"Rúmil! Rúmil.... come here...." He panicked, his eyes wildly searching his surroundings. Home. He was home. But how?
Rúmil came sheepishly by his side. "Turn around." Orophin whispered as if he was afraid for his brother to do so.
Slowly Rúmil did as he was told, and in doing so, his long plait swung with him. Reaching up, wide eyed, Orophin touched it and tugged. "Ow, Oro!" Rúmil hit his brother's hand away and muttered a quick, "sorry," and left.
Orophin laid back, tears in his eyes. "You saw it, didn't you?" his mother whispered.
Orophin just nodded, not understanding.
"I did as a child myself."
"What is it mother?" he asked quietly.
"I don't think I know." She smoothed the blankets around her middle son and kissed his brow.
In a cave deep under the heart of Caras Galadhon, Galadriel walked slowly, a torch in her hand. The stench hit her first. It always did. The smell of rotting flesh and decay. Celeborn had strengthened the gate once more, but it would only hold so long. He always found a way out eventually. Unfastening the lock, she placed the cage of rabbits she carried into the pen. He clapped his hands and held up his favorite gift to her. A braid of her hair. She smiled and he held out his hand as if waiting for something else. "You've frightened poor Orophin this time. You mustn't wander."
The creature whimpered before her.
"You did well carrying him home. My son."
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Story notes: Written for the horror category for chaotic_binky's slash awards.
Beta: aglarien (thank you my dear!)
