The great shadow descended like a falling cloud. Junsu gazed up and his heart was stricken with terror. It was a winged creature, much greater than all other birds, and it was . Neither quill nor feather did it bear, and its vast claws were as webs of hide between horned fingers. It was a creature of an older world, in forgotten mountains cold on Arda, outstayed their day. And the Dark Lord took it, and nursed it with fell meats until it grew beyond the measure of all other things that fly. 

On it sat a shape, black-mantled, huge and threatening. This must be the Dark Lord himself. A crown of steel he wore, but between rim and robe there was nothing to see, only a deadly gleam of eyes. He had with him two weapons, a great mace in one hand and a sword in the other. 

The Fell Beast had its wings spread, and together with the Dark Lord they formed the most formidable foe. Dark fell about them, as they were the darkest force of evil. Horses reared and neighed in terror. Elves cast from saddle lay groveling on the ground. Orcs those vile creatures too, groveled under his feet.

Junsu wanted to flee, to move away, but his fear had engulfed him. It was as if his soul had left his body, leaving him with nothing but flesh and bone. This enemy was too great. Would it be the end? Would he meet his death before he fulfilled his oath to his King? Would he not meet his beloved one last time?

Suddenly the Dark Lord hissed, sensing a commotion behind him. Junsu could not believe his eyes. 

His King was here, on the back of Aerwithen he rode. Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fore fathers ran like new tire in his veins. Courage and fire burnt in his eyes as he galloped nearer, a long spear in his hand and as he released it, it shot pass between the Dark Lord and his Fell Beast.

“You shall not harm him!” cried the King, “I will smite you if you touch him.”

 

Junsu watched as the Dark Lord turned, facing the young King. His two great weapons were raised, and Junsu was reminded that the Dark Lord wielded the Anglachel, the only sword on Arda that could pierce through the King’s mithrilarmor.

Worry for his beloved ran over his fear, and Junsu’s heart sank as he glimpsed on the bandaged arm beneath the King’s armor. The young king was injured, and it seemed that the wound was reopened for now blood dripped down from his arm into the ground below. 

A courage he did not know he had suddenly filled him. Junsu sprang to his feet, wanting to get closer and protect the man he loved from these foul creatures, but the Fell Beast growled at him. It beat its hideous wings, and the wind of them was foul. It leaped once into the air before swiftly fell down upon Junsu, shrieking, striking with beak and claw.

Junsu moved in time to escape from the Fell Beast’s attack. Pain from his wounded legs shot most painfully as he moved. The Fell Beast hissed again, its breath was horrible and terrible as it roared with a voice that deafened to all who hear it. Junsu felt his ears rang. His grip on his sword slackened.

But then, clear as water in spring lake, he heard his brother’s voice. Gwador! Do not despair! Your King awaits.

The King’s Consort panted, shaking his head to clear his ear from the deafening roar of the Fell Beast. His brother spoke the truth. His beloved was so close within his reach and he was injured, just as Junsu was. They still had their foes before them, but it shall not be for long. 

Junsu raised his sword, grimacing as his leg throbbed painfully as he put pressure on it to stand. The Fell Beast soon attacked, its claws were striking but Junsu managed to escape. He then dealt a swift, deadly to the Fell Beast. Not once, but twice he cut its outstretched neck, and the hewn head fell like a stone. The huge body of the Fell Beast crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth and with its fall the shadow passed away.

At that moment his legs gave away. Barely catching himself, Junsu then turned his gaze to the Dark Lord and to his horror, the Dark Lord had his fist around the King’s neck, and his beloved’s body was raised few inches from the ground.

 

Changmin felt his life was leaving him. He was unable to breathe, the Dark Lord’s fingers were choking him. 

It happened much too fast for him. Only a moment earlier he was facing his enemy once again, ready to fight his foe and tend to his Consort although he only had one uninjured hand and it had in it his sword. But though brave as he was, Changmin’s body was weary. He had journeyed without stopping from Cair Andros, and his injury had made him lost too much blood. Dark spots that had faded before had begun to reappear in his eyes, blurring his vision.

Thank Valar he still saw enough of the Dark Lord. He saw him raising his sword and Changmin barely managed to block the attack with his own, knowing fully well that the sword could pierce his armor. Then a great pain came from his waist, for the Dark Lord had wielded his mace and struck him. 

Changmin’s body flew from the saddle, hit as a ball in a child’s game, bouncing to the earth amidst the torn bodies on the rocky ground. Aerwithen, the loyal mare, was dead, its skull crushed by the force of the blow. His whole body was hurt and when it was difficult for him to breathe, Changmin knew he had cracked his ribs.

Out of the wreck rose the Dark Lord, tall and threatening; towering above him. With a cry of hatred that stung his ears like venom, he grasped Changmin’s neck and lifted him off the ground. “Foolish elf. This is my hour,” the Dark Lord hissed, “Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!” And with that he lifted high his sword to kill, his eyes gleamed with madness and hatred.

But suddenly he too stumbled to his knees with a cry of bitter pain, and his did not meet its target, for it drove right into the ground. Junsu’s sword had stabbed him from behind, shearing through the black mantle and pierced him behind his mighty knee. 

Junsu was weary himself. However his heart clenched with distressed at the sight of his beloved’s body raised as if it was no more than a sack of wheat. With a silent cry, he had crawled on his hands and knees like a dazed beast. He was unable to stand for he too, was injured in his legs. When he was near he had driven his sword to the Dark Lord, only wishing that perhaps it would make the vile creature releasing his beloved, for it was the only thing that mattered to Junsu.

Changmin grunted as he was thrown to the ground. The impact hurt his ribs and the pain shot through his body like a lightning bolt. But then he saw a face, the one he had been yearning to see and constantly be in his heart. Their eyes locked to each other, the sound of battle forgotten momentarily as they gazed across the battlefield. 

Suddenly a new courage began to flow through Changmin as he saw the look on his Consort’s face: trust, hope, relief, loyalty. His Consort had put so much faith in him and Changmin would not, he refused to let him and his people down. He then struggled up, with his last strength he drove his sword between the Dark Lord’s sword and mantle, right between his foe’s head.

There was a roar and great confusion of noise. A great burst of wind ran through them, the Dark Lord let out a painful screech, a cry went up into the suddering air and faded to a shrill wailing. The sword in Changmin’s hand broke sparkling into many shard, as if vile poison from the Dark Lord managed to seep in. 

The Dark Lord’s crown rolled away with a clang, for it seemed that the mantle was now empty, shapeless as they lay on the ground, torn and tumbled. Gone now its wearer, passing with the wind, a bodiless foe that died was swallowed up and was never again appeared in the world.

Every Orcs seemed to stand still for a moment as they realized that their Lord was gone, before they shrieked and ran away to the forests where they came first, but the elven forces did not let them. Already they had begun to chase, for they knew that this was their one last chance to get rid all the vile creatures from Arda. They chased them with a speed that made fear course through the dark creatures.

But Changmin paid it no mind. He cared not that his enemy was now defeated, for in his mind there was only one person. Changmin crawled to his Consort, for he too, had no strength left, but he had seen Junsu’s body thrown from the great wind when the Dark Lord was defeated.

On his hands and knees he crawled, each drag of his body was heavier than the last. He made his way through the battlefield to where his Consort lay and did not move, whom eyes were closed and a pool of blood flowed freely from the wound in his legs. The King cried in agony, his heart grieved as he was once again saw the sight of his Consort’s eyes closed, a sign that he was near death. He had seen it once, and he swore that it would be the last time. But here his Consort was, once again in near death.

“The King!” he heard a cry. For a brief moment his heart was filled with fear, until he recognized his seneschal’s form. He had with him few other men, and together they formed a circle to defend their King and the King’s Consort. 

It was the last sight Changmin had seen, before darkness claimed him.

 

He was awoken by the sound of many voices. At first the vision was mere blur, but gradually it cleared until finally Changmin could see where he was. He was back at the castle, the Great Hall had been transformed into a Hall of Healing for many healers and injured warriors with various injuries were now within. 

“My Lord!” he saw Eric’s face morphed into one that of relieve. “You are awake.”

Changmin nodded weakly, before suddenly a flash of his Consort’s face appeared in his mind and the young king sprang up from the bed, only to groan in pain as his ribs cried in agony. Warm arms circled his waist at once, but it was not the one that he yearned for. “Where is he?” Changmin whispered. “I wish to see him.”

“He is there my Lord,” Eric gestured to the bed besides him. 

He knew that he had his duties as a king: to ensure the safety of his people. And right now there were multitude of elves lying in the Hall of Healing, all having sustained various injuries in the battle. The healers were at work amongst them, but Changmin only had his eyes for one. He allowed himself this little bit of selfishness, to care for his Consort first and his people later. 

Junsu lay on a cot, paler than snows of winter. His silver hair was unbound, they spread like a cloth over the rough sheet and Changmin wished to touch them. Black bruises were starting to appear on his face and body, and his legs were bound tightly with white bandage. 

His own injuries were forgotten momentarily. Changmin knew that he had cracked many ribs, for it was the only reason why his breathing was shallow: the pain was great. But the sight of his Consort lay unmoving as if he was dead brought him courage to face the pain. He moved and almost immediately he felt Eric’s hand pushed him down so that he lay back on the bed.

“You should not move my Lord, we will move the bed instead.” 

Eric called upon few uninjured men and together they lifted Changmin’s cot slowly and gently. After they were done with their task, they left their King with a bow, knowing that the young king needed as much privacy as possible in the otherwise crowded hall.

Changmin laid in his side with great difficulty, taking the slender hand of his love, cradling it softly within his own palm. “Melamin, will you not wake? Will you not see me with your glorious eyes? I need you, Junsu. Please, come back to me as I once did to you.”

No one within hearing range could hold back their tears as they heard the love and need so evident in their King’s plea. Changmin refused to let go of his Consort’s hand and so the healers must tended to the king and his Consort with extra care. They gave them both paste to reduce the bruises, they changed their bandages and apply more salve to the wound. They put a sling on the king’s injured arm to prevent the bones from moving. But no one had ever seen their King so devoted, so caring to his Consort.

The night was long and Changmin alternated between unbearable silence and quiet words, speaking of things and reminiscences of times past. He spoke of the love he held to his Consort, the one who had been by his side since he married him back in the Garden of Lorien. He spoke of he treated Junsu unjustly at first, of how much Changmin regretted it ever since. But he was grateful, so grateful that his Consort was so loyal, so beautiful, so kind, that he was willing to stay even though Changmin had done him horribly.

He spoke in whispered tone so that only Junsu could hear, of their effort to unite the Kingdom, of how his plan to poison himself had worked and it was Junsu that had helped him, to make sure that Changmin got the antidote in time. He smiled at the memory of the first time they said they loved each other, how beautiful Junsu had looked when they first made love.

It was near dawn when a moan broke from between his Consort’s pale lips. Changmin became alert immediately. “Junsu? Melamin?”

He watched with bated breath as those dark lashes parted, and the eyes he had grown to love so much fell upon him.

“My Lord?”

Tears formed in Changmin’s eyes as his heart was filled with happiness and relief now that his love was awake and well. He gripped the other’s hand tighter, as if he was afraid that Junsu would slip into death and away from his grasp.

“The battle…” he heard his Consort’s unspoken question.

“Has been won,” Changmin answered between smile, “All is well, do not worry. But you must rest, for you are hurt and need to conserve your strength.” He saw in Junsu’s eyes thousands of questions, many words he wish to utter but he was still too weak.

But there was also trust, unyielding trust in those eyes. And Changmin understood. Junsu had placed such faith in him, and if Changmin said that all is well, then Junsu would only need to trust him. The King watched as his Consort fell back into a peaceful rest.

For now, he lied besides his Consort and spoke the same words that he had heard Junsu uttered before. ““Quel kaima, melamin. I will be here. Put your worries aside and rest.”


-End of Chapter Twenty Four-


Glossary:
Gwador = brother
Arda = time/earth
Valar = gods
Melamin = My Love
Quel Kaima = Rest well