Bethrelfin was glad that Malethion had not questioned when she entered the house stained in blood. He had taken Dumpling from her arms and quietly went to run her a hot bath. She stood in the doorway, completely frozen. Everything in her had gone quiet, except the burning wounds on her arms. She could not speak. She could not move. She could barely breathe.
She let Malethion guide her to the washroom, let him strip her clothes and gently lay her in the bath. The warm water burnt her already burning arms, but she did not care. He had just finished washing her hair before giving her a kiss and leaving the room. He had told her why he was leaving, but all she could hear was roaring in her ears.
Ash. Blood. Soot. Iron. Dirt. Fire.
She watched a glimmering sword plunge into an elven body, coming back out glittering in crimson and gore. She watched the elf plummet to the ground, slow and graceful. Her blood watered the soil beneath her, nourishing the roots.
An arrow flew from her bow. More blood, the shocked face of a woman staring back at her. The shock turned to a grimace, which then turned into a grin. The woman began laughing, louder and louder.
A flash of fur. Even more blood. Even more screaming. She was breathing smoke and ash and iron crimson. A hobbit fell to the ground next to the elf, wailing and trying to push against her wound. A wound deep enough to cleave Middle Earth in two.
She watched as the woman fell to the ground, still smiling, her eyes a mixture of white and red. Her fair white hair was matted with dirt and blood against her face. Yet she kept smiling, kept taunting her. "You have won no victories here," the corpse whispered.
She held the elf in her arms, kingsfoil dangling helplessly between her fingers. A breath. Another. Then silence. Her healing had no use. She could do nothing.
Ash. Blood. Soot. Iron. Dirt. Fire.
Bethrelfin looked down at her hands, still stained a deep red. She scrubbed them in the water, but the stains refused to come out. Undeterred, she continued to scrub. It must come out, it will come out.
Wide-eyed she looked up to see Malethion at the door, holding clean clothes. He had rushed towards her before she even had a chance to speak, holding her hands and shushing her. Was she saying anything? She could not hear.
The roaring noise filled the air around her. Iron and ash was all she could smell.
Why did she feel so hoarse? Why did her throat hurt her so much?
Ash. Blood. Soot. Iron. Dirt. Fire.
Silence.
