Chapter 5 - You can't fire me. I quit!

The star of Varda was engulfed inside the bud of the tiny blue flower.

As soon as Mila’s bloody hand plucked the magical plant, the bud bloomed, revealing the glowing essence of Varda inside.

Days limping around without food or water, chasing after a mythical star left her no strength. Saruman had tortured and broke her ankle, and by making her witness Lady Galadriel’s death, he had broken her spirit as well.

Mila was tired… so tired.

Now that she had her hands on the star, she had no hope left, for the only one who could wield it was gone–Lady Galadriel.

The world had come to ruin. Mila had failed their quest, even after all the sacrifices that her friends made for her. She studied the small burning star in her hand–such an expensive price to pay.

The house of Elrond was no more. But then again, Mila realized, even if all elves in Arda had to die, it still won’t be enough to pay for the price of this star.

To resurrect Varda and placed her back to her throne.

Behind her the screeching sound of the witch king of Angmar tore through the air that reeked of death and misery. She could no longer run. She didn’t know what to do.

If only Glorfindel was here; he would know what to do.

Saruman stood tall, looking down at her with contempt and a condescending smirk. Behind him, the full might of the undead king followed him.

Who was she to even stand a chance against that kind of army? Mila found herself alone, broken and without hope.

Saruman stretched out his hand that wasn’t holding his staff; his nails grew to be talon like, as if wanting to devour what was left of her.

“The star grants its wielder immortality,” he said, his voice reverberated with power that made Mila shudder with fear, “…or death. But no mortal could wield such power. Give me the star, and I shall let you live.”

A small voice in her head told her that all was lost. Why fight any longer? Saruman was right; she didn’t know how to or capable of wielding such power. Even now, the tiny star grew hotter within her small hands.

But Mila hated Saruman with all that she had left. If there was any power left in her, she would use all of it to make his life harder, though insignificantly in the end, even if it's the last thing she will ever do.

Saruman waited patiently, his arrogant smirk etched across his face knowing that victory was at hand.

Perhaps, Saruman's own arrogance was what defeated him.

Mila didn’t know what came over her. Call it desperation; call it brokenness; call it her losing her mind. The mortal woman did what no living being in Middle Earth could ever see coming or even thought of.

She took the star into her mouth and swallowed it dry like a bitter pill.

Glorfindel always said that she was headstrong. Mila thought that he would be proud by her ‘you can’t fire me, I quit’ attitude.

Saruman yelled profanities at her, calling her stupid before ordering his minions to tear her mortal body apart in order to find that star.

Heat.

Heat spread and grew from inside her core. It grew and grew until it burned her insides. It was probably too late to regret her rash decision, but she knew her body wouldn’t be able to hold the power inside her much longer.

She’d perish soon, and she was counting on it, for the pain inside her began to grow excruciating very rapidly.

The white fire burned her, and in anguish and agony Mila let out a cry that only people burned alive could muster.

Saruman was right. The frail vessel of the human body could not contain the vala’s essence. Out of every opening of her body, every pores, blinding white light broke through, breaking her skin. Before Saruman’s minion could get to her, the star of Varda shot out of her with the speed of a lightning towards the sky, breaking the darkness of Sauron’s power that concealed the moon and the stars from view.

The last thing Mila saw was the straight light of the star dividing the dark, starless sky, going up towards the heaven. Every living being within the proximity of the star power turned to ash; including Saruman and the witch king of Angmar, even before the thought of escaping registered to them.

Varda wept at the death and sorrow plaguing Arda upon her awakening. Mila’s soul had departed, but she didn’t meet the same fate as her enemies. The vala wrapped the human’s body with the light of her star, so that her legacy remained– and that the ones who loved her could at least bid her goodbye.

***

Mila woke up in the middle of the night with tremor. In haze of sleep, she still felt the heat of the star burning inside her, moments before she knew it would break her body. At times like this, Mila hugged herself, anticipating the heat to burn her alive; to take her away from the land of living.

Death came slower than she bid.

Half asleep, Mila got off her bed. Her bare feet padded across the cold, stony surface that made up the floor of the whole House of Rivendell. She staggered towards the garden, hair unbound as she gazed up to the night sky. Waiting.

“Mila.”

Mila followed her instinct and took a step back as Glorfindel took a step closer to her. In her mind, she didn’t want anyone to get in the way of the star when she released it.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Glorfindel mustered an even tone despite the growing tension he felt coming off of her.

“I’m setting her free,” answered Mila with a somewhat sleepy voice.

“Who?” Glorfindel asked, his eyes scanning the garden for any stray animal that Mila might refer to.

“The star.”

Glorfindel stared at Mila with his ancient gaze. He noted how the woman’s eyes fleeted around, unfocused; sweat was dripping against her skin.

She was delirious.

Glorfindel approached her slowly. She didn’t notice, for she was too busy looking up at the sky as if waiting for something to happen.

“Varda?” Glorfindel began, “But she is already free,” he said with a gentleness that surprised even himself. The golden haired elf touched her arm, feeling her skin burned with fever.

Maintaining his calm demeanor, he guided her eyes to one blue star. “Look, Mila. The star is shining for you.”

“…”

“The blue star. It’s her. She was set free. Remember?”

As if realizing it, Mila murmured, “Oh! I thought she’s still inside me.”

Inside her?

Glorfindel’s eyes stung with emotion the moment he realized what his little friend’s delirious words meant.

All this time he had never pushed the details of how Galadriel managed to set Varda free. He thought the Lady of Light did it. But no.

It was Mila. At what cost? Glorfindel knew the power of Varda was too much even for a powerful elf like Galadriel. But for a human like Mila? Sweet, little Mila? The elf warrior's heart was gripped with both anger and anguish that torn him inside. That kind of power would have destroyed her with kind of pain unimaginable.

The golden one planted a long kiss on Mila’s cheek before pulling her to his embrace. Her form felt fragile and precious in his strong arms; her skin too warm to the touch. Glorfindel released her silently before sweeping her off her feet and carried her in his arms towards her room, ignoring the look of other passing elves at night.

By the time he laid her in her bed, the woman was already snoring softly. The elf warrior tucked the blanket under her chin, brushing back her hair gently. Then he sat at the chair next to her bed, watching her sleeping form.

Then for the first time in millennia, the elf warrior began to cry.

***

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