Come, come, gather here
Behold such a saddening tale
Come, come, take your handkerchief
It may keep you well.
It came upon the sunrise clear
That sorrowful song of old
From Elves bounded to the Earth
To touch their harps of gold.
The Ranger find himself alone in the wood
It's magic only forest spirits understood
He lose himself hoping to find
The peace of mind he left behind.
The forest green was so serene
In the middle ran a stream so blue.
Like Linglorel's eyes, when she said to him:
“By the light of stars, I love you true”
Oh, the stories of old, quite a vision to behold
The rays of the Sun in her hair of gold.
And they danced all through the night
And they held each other tight.
For them to danced on a gentle breeze
Was to taste the beauty of paradise
But light summer days would turn to fall
And the autumn would turn to ice.
Why can't the happy days last, why, oh why
A flame from dragon's fire tearing the sky
Take these sorrows, tell their story
And please don't forget to cry.
- "Aldamir" from Lays of Bard Pantlinn -
They ran as though the very armies of the Withered Heath were behind them, and indeed, they hoped that it was not so. Their ears hurt from the shrill roar of the dragon.
They ran back to ice labyrinth in a panic flight. The Ranger was terribly weakened. They all feared for their lives. They wanted to escape while they had the chance. As they crossed the snow bridge, it began to collapse behind them.
„Vethúg has awoken, and so has his wrath ten-fold!” Linglorel wailed.
„You sure got his attention!” snorted Frimsi.
Frimsi and Passerose, with wounded Thindaer stepped off the bridge. Linglorel followed after, barely able to keep pace with them, but then, the bridge below her feet broke to asunder. She almost fell to her death, but Ranger caught her by the hand and hauled up onto solid ground, even though he almost fell along her. Then they heard the roars and cries on the other side of the bridge.
They ran through the tunnels blindly. They could not go the way they had come. They must find a faster way. Because they did not know where they were going, neither did their persuer. It was good fortune that led them back out onto the surface of the earth. They stepped out from the ice gate. They had the Aldamir and that was all they needed. They had seen enough of dragon's lair to last a lifetime.
Ranger was spent. He collapsed upon the ground, incapable of going any further. Passerose stopped and beckoned to him. The brave hobbit still had some strength left, and she knew that they had not truly escaped yet. She had not realized until now that they probably may never outrun the dragon on foot.
„Come, we cannot linger!”
„Where is the Aldamir? Do you still have it?” they could hear the anxiety in Frimsi's voice.
Thindaer held it in his hand and they all gazed upon the divine emerald for a moment. They gaped at its beauty, for it shone bright like a sun beam.
And then, awakened by the dragon's wrath, the avalanche carried them away with it, as they clung to the trunk of a pine tree uprooted. The snow carried them down towards the bed of the frozen river, where at last their tree came to a stop on the stones. They managed to survive. But Ranger lay still and pale.
Linglorel held Radclyfe to her. Tears flooded her eyes. She shook him, but he did not wake. His wound was swelling. Vethug had unleashed the poison of his fangs upon him, and Linglorel dressed the wound. Hopefully, she was not too late. Then she used the very last of her power to staunch the wound and stop the bleeding. The only thing she could do for him now was pray.
They did not know how long they had been lying there. Elf maiden was filled with despair. Surely, she thought, Thindaer will die. No mortal could receive such a wound and be spared. She wrapped her arms about him and let hot tears fall from her eyes upon his face.
„I am sorry, my beloved. We have failed. The quest has ended to ruin of us all. May death come easy upon you. But I shall beg for death too. I will always love you. Farewell, Thindaer”.
She kissed him, for she had lost all her hope. The maiden did not cry out or scream or give voice to the pain of her loss. A single tear spilled down her cheek as her body fell like the most graceful tree in the most magical forest hewn by the axe of an unthinking dwarf. Her head rolled to the side and golden tresses woven from sunlight and joy fell across her face, mercifully covering her alabaster features. Her tear fell on the emerald, the elf-stone.
The Green Jewel began to glow and a bright light, like sunlight on golden fields poured from inside. Amid the wondrous halo of shimmering brilliance, the power of old emerged, blessed the Ranger with the healing light of the magic. He awoke from a dream, and the first thing he did was call for her.
Elf maiden wept with relief and joy and embraced him, and he her.
„I am here! I am here!” she cried „Hope lies beyond despair!”
"Darling, darling," they repeated to each other. "Dearest, dearest." And what the Ranger didn't know, he very soon did. They talked and talked, explaining this and explaining that, stories of jewel, stories of snow and ice, and they wept for their sorrows, smiled for Frimsi, hug Passerose, danced for a day without going away, and - and, well, after that they were so out of breath, they lay down and slept under the stars, before they went on their way!
When the dawn came, at the edge of the forest a thick curtain of snow began to fall, and icy gales lashed them. But Thindaer and Linglorel held each other closer and so passed through it, too, in warm and safety.
And where they left footprints in the snow, flowers bloomed.
