I dreamed of shining towers and bright blue skies. I dreamed of the warm sun and the sound of songbirds. I dreamed of flowers in the air and cobble stoned streets. I dreamed of grand halls and flying banners.
“Ithil.”
It is too warm and I am too comfortable.
“Ithilwe.”
It is too early. I do not want to wake up yet.
“Ithilwe please!”
Why is Fileg shouting? Why won’t he let me sleep?
“Ithilwe you must wake up!”
Fine.
The silver haired elf slowly wakes and tries to shake the sleep off. It takes several moments, but he finally rouses himself from his bitter dreams. The room is still dim and the hearth barely crackling, with small flames that had mellowed out in the night. When Ithilwe raises his eyes to meet Fileg's, he gulps. The other's eyes are filled with fear and horror.
“Fileg… What is it?” He asks quietly, slowly pushing himself up to a sitting position.
“I need you to listen to me. And I need you to stay quiet until I have finished speaking.” Fileg spoke seriously, and his face was grim.
Ithilwe only nods, lips pressing shut and turning into a frown.
I dreamed of words on white pages and a soothing voice telling tales of glory. I dreamed of the blazing hearth and gentle fingers in my hair. I dreamed of a bright laugh and kind hugs.
“You need to leave. You must take your belongings, all you can carry. And go fast.” Fileg takes Ithilwe’s arms and pulls him up out of the bed.
“I….what?” The younger elf looks at Fileg in worry.
“You must leave Ithilwe. It is not safe.” Fileg tightens his grip on the younger’s arms.
“But why? Fileg what has happened?” Ithilwe begins to shake Fileg off, but pauses as distant shouts and screams filter in from outside the small house.
He whips his head to the front door of their small house. A sense of dread fills his stomach as the screams and shouts come closer and closer.
"Fileg, please. Tell me what is wrong!"
The door slams open and Arrrvelas stalks in, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. Ithilwe and Fileg flinch at the sound, turning to face the oldest of the three.
"They have come."
I dreamed of screams and fear. I dreamed of fire and pain. I dreamed of horror and grief.
Fileg moves quickly, taking a pack and beginning to fill it with the few items that Ithilwe owned, clothing, books, a small wooden horse.. As the dark haired elf moves over to the kitchen, Ithilwe's attention is taken by Arrvelas grabbing the two long swords that had been sitting in the corner.
"Arrvelas?" He asks, eyes swimming in fear.
Arrvelas gently pushes Ithilwe down to sit on the bed once more. He squeezes the smaller's shoulder and kneels down in front of him.
"Little cousin, do you trust me?"
A pause, but then a hesitant nod.
"Of course I do, Arrvelas."
The oldest of three brings Ithilwe into an almost harsh embrace. His arms hold the smaller elf tightly, his arms shaking.
"They have come, the sons of Feanor. And they will kill you. You must run. You must leave and never come back."
The younger pulls back, mouth agape in fear. "We are not safe? I thought we were safe here. You said it would be safe."
"I know, Ithilwe. I know. Forgive me for my pointless words. But you must listen to me. You must go, before they can get you."
"But what about you and Fileg? Are you not coming?"
"Of course we are, baby cousin. We just need to make sure you get away first. Your mother would scream so loudly that we could hear it from the Halls of Mandos if we did not do our duty and protect you."
I dreamed of faces of fear and a tight grip on my hand. I dreamed of hurried instructions and the clang of armor. I dreamed of fire in the streets and two archers standing their ground. I dreamed of their screams as the last sight of Gondolin is hidden from view.
The silver haired elf nods, standing abruptly and giving Arrvelas a determined look. "What do you need me to do?"
Arrvelas is quick to take the dagger from his side and presses it into Ithilwe's hands. He stands up and looks back to Fileg.
"Take this, just in case something goes wrong."
Ithilwe spends a moment looking at the dagger. It is beautifully crafted, a memory of Gondolin with it's jewels of silver and sapphire.
"But I can not fight, you know this...." He trails off, holding it tightly in his hand.
"But you will if you have to, yes?"
A small nod.
"Good. Hold the dagger tight, and if you have to, aim for the heart. Now, you must take the pack that Fileg has. You will go outside and you will head north. They are coming from the south. You will run and you will not look back. Do you understand what I am saying Ithilwe?"
"I understand, Arrvelas. And you promise you and Fileg will be right behind me?"
"I promise, baby cousin. We will be right behind you. Now, you must...." He is cut off by a loud scream that was much too close to their home. Arrvelas curses as he whips his head to the front door and then to the back of the house where a small shuttered window lay upon the wall. "There is no time. They are here."
Fileg finally returns from the kitchen, shoving the pack into Ithilwe's hands, the sense of urgency and fear rising in the room.
"Arrvelas, get him out! I will watch the door." Fileg gestures to the window. "He will have to go through there."
Arrvelas nods, grabbing Ithilwe by the hand and handing one of the swords to Fileg.
"Come Ithilwe, you can fit through the window." Ithilwe starts to protest but one stern look shuts him up immediately and he is dragged to the back of the house.
A bang of the door and a shout.
'They have come.'
The elves at the door hold a murderous gaze as they advance on Fileg. Their swords already covered in blood, the liquid dripping to the rough wooden floor.
The sound of swords clashing and muffled words. Ithilwe turns to watch as Fileg fights with all of his might, his sword swinging in a wide arc but his movements are not as practiced as the other elves.
'Fileg.. he can not fight them all off. He will not succeed.'
Then, a scream. Fileg falls to the floor, unmoving. The blood pours from the wound, pooling onto the ground.
And then nothing.
Ithilwe chances a glance to Arrvelas, who has an emotionless look on his face. Then, he looks back to Fileg.
Blood there is only blood. And the still figure of Fileg on the ground.
'No. This can't be happening. Not again.'
The youngest is shoved unceremoniously up and is pushed through the small window.
"Arrvelas! Fileg is...." The older shakes his head, helping Ithilwe to climb out as fast as he can.
"No! Go, Ithilwe. Run! I beg of you, just run!" Arrvelas turns, readying his sword to protect them.
"And you will be right behind me?" Ithilwe asks again, tears beginning their trek down his cheeks.
Arrvelas looks back at him with a sad smile.
"I will be right behind you. I will find you, Little Moon. I will find you."
The last thing Ithilwe sees is a blade coming down upon Arrvelas' neck.
He runs. He runs and runs, and he doesn't look back.
I dreamed of two tall figures, guiding me through the dark passage. I dreamed of the cries and tears of the brothers. I dreamed of attempts at comfort. I dreamed of heartache and nothing.
