Chapter Text
Adar lay dead on the cold ground, his black blood slowly seeping into the earth below him.
His body was cooling down and Sauron went away, barking orders, in pusuit of Galadriel.
Adar lay dead. At least, he supposed he was dead, what with the pain of dozens of cold blades that had pierced his flesh. The world was dark, and harsh. There was nothing anymore.
But after a few hours, the dead Uruk began doubting his own death. Nothing was happening, and he was still aching horribly all over. So he mustered all of his courage, which took an eternity, and tried to open his eyes. But he saw nothing, only darkness.
He could smell though. Blood, mostly, his own, mixed with the scent of others. Uruks.
He could feel blades of grass between his unmoving fingers.
He tried to speak, and found it was impossible.
Surely if he was as dead as he was supposed to, there would be no more smells?
Adar came to the grim conclusion that he would be some hours dying then. He must wait until the last drop of blood had left his veins, until his feeble heart truly and well gave out.
So he closed his eyes shut again, and found it changed nothing.
He sunk into darkness.
Adar felt the slight tremor in the ground before he heard the steps, and he would not have perceived them if he had not been laying on the grass, for the steps were light and wary. An elf, probably, then.
Anyway, he could not move, dead as he was.
Someone knelt at his side and he felt suddenly a light hand on his brow. It was soft.
" Can you hear me?" a voice asked in his ear.
He tried to speak, but he was too dead to manage it.
The elf lowered his ear to Adar's mouth, listening for a breath.
" Don't worry." the voice said. "I'm going to help you now."
Adar felt his body being lifted, and it was as if the innumerable blades were piercing him again, waking pain and fresh blood wherever they penetrated. He wanted to scream, but he remained silent for lack of strengh to do so. Everything was pain. Though, the dead did not feel pain.
Adar woke with a jolt, aching all over.
A ray of sun fell on his eyes, to his dismay. He tried to lift a hand and cover his eyes but the movement made him scream in pain. Well, internally scream in pain. He did not manage to get the sound out.
So he took a breath to settle down (this was horribly painful too, like razor blades in his lungs.) and endured the light until it felt less harsh and he was somewhat accustomed.
Then, he tried opening his eyes.
He heard water running nearby, and blinked rapidly to get used to the light. Around him he saw moss, trees, and then a bit farther a babbling little river, from which the sound was coming.
There was something across his chest. He tried to lift his shoulders up and doing so, made the thing slide away. He thought it was a cape. The movement pained him so, though, that he immediately fell to the mossy ground again, and found it soft enough to welcome the landing of his aching body.
He managed to get out a pitiful whimper. He felt very vulnerable like this. He realized he was bound to the ground, for now at least, by the weight of his limp body.
The feeble whimper seemed enough to make a figure appear at his side.
It was an elf, though the details were still hazy, he realized. Golden-haired and smiling gently down at him, at least.
The elf knelt at his side on the moss. He said something Adar couldn't not really make out, something like he needed to rest for now, keep his strengh. What strengh, Adar could not tell, but what was more important to him right now was the voice. It seemed familiar somehow.
But Adar was too frail to think or understand anything for the time being, so he slumped back into a deep slumber, full of nightmares of betrayal and blades.
He could perceive a presence at his side throughout his nightmares though. It frightened him almost as much as it comforted him.