Author's Note: Happy Three Years to our page! Marie here. In honor of our anniversary, I decided to take a little walk down memory lane to my first piece published on this page—Star of Dreams! And, as sort of a tribute (not the Panem strain) of how much change a writer can go through in just three years, I have rewritten this little oneshot; it shall be in three chapters to commemorate the three years of writing partnership I have with Lindsey. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter One
An unsuspected tree root nearly trips me as I sprint into the shelter of the nearby woods, everything still frighteningly vivid in my mind. What had started out as a peaceful, normal day has drastically been transformed into a nightmare. I can remember the stillness of my sheltered Mirkwood home suddenly snap, like that twig I just stepped on. The Orcs pouring in like a flood of darkness, separating me from my parents…
My mother and I had just finished discussing our plans for the day when we heard the cries; sounds that were foreign to me, but made my mother tense, the light hand she had on my shoulder tightening for some unknown reason.
"Naneth? Mani naa ta?" I ask, watching her jade green eyes darken with worry. She did not answer me, however, because another noise reached us.
"Tirnel!" my father shouts, rushing to us with his bow and arrows in hand.
"Ada!" I exclaim once he reaches us. "What is happening?"
He puts an arm around me, his voice soft. "Orcs are coming. They've broken through our outer defenses." Tightening his grip on me, he turned to my mother. "Tirnel, both of you seek out Tauriel; she will lead you to—"
"No." My mother tosses her midnight black hair over her shoulder. "I'm going to fight."
"Tirnel," my father says, his voice almost scolding. "You cannot; Elien needs—"
"Legolas, do not speak of people needing me," my mother replied, cutting my father off for the second time. "You are the…" Her voice trailed off as we heard the infernal screams from earlier, only now much closer, more horrifying. "Legolas…"
"Rima…" he breathes, his voice low as he withdraws his hand from me and sets an arrow to his bowstring. "Rima!" he repeats, and I begin to will my feet to obey him.
"Elien!" My mother exclaims, her long hands framing my face stopping me as she locks her eyes with mine. "Be brave. For me. You know where to go."
As soon as those words left her mouth, she turned to my father, and they were gone.
When I lose them, I turn away, searching for the long fiery red mane that would lead me to safety—but not before going to arm myself with a bow and quiver full of arrows as soon as my eyes find a table laden with such weapons. Whatever is out there must be serious; weapons are rarely seen in the hall that leads to the throne room.
A slender hand touches one of my own as my fingers close around a bow. "Tauriel!" I exclaim in relief as she faces me.
"Your father needs all those who know how to fight at his side," she says quickly, stuffing knives and other weapons into her belt. "You must go without me. I am sorry, Elien." That was the last I saw of the redheaded woman before she vanished, lost in the swarms of people rushing about in no perceptible order—something very unusual here.
As I force my feet to move towards my destination, I hear another cry, one louder and more familiar than the rest. It is my father, wailing my mother's name. The sudden outburst somehow sparks a reaction in me; I bolt to the thick, wooden doors that will lead me away from all the sounds of chaos and into the quiet woods.
As soon as the doors close behind me, I feel the stillness, the almost peace that they bring. I do not let it touch me long before I break into a sprint, my legs pumping in the direction they seem to know without my mind willing them where to go.
A new noise startles me out of my thoughts: a low growl that sends chills down my spine. Pulling out an arrow from the quiver slung on my back and fitting it to the bow I have had a death-like grip on ever since I had touched it, I turned to where the sound was coming from.
It is what looks like a man, but his body is like the earth around my home when it rains, and all the clothing he has is a tattered loincloth around his waist. I bite my lip to prevent a scream from pushing past them as I quicken my pace and pray that the thing—no doubt one of the Orcs my father had spoken of—did not spot me.
I skid to a stop at my hiding place—one of the tallest trees in the forest—and climb to the highest bough I can reach. For a moment, I manage to hoist myself up to look beyond the thick leaves and shade the forest brings to look around me; I can see what looks like all of Middle Earth from here, seemingly undisturbed by the events that have just taken place. I lean against the broad trunk, catching my breath, and do the only thing I can.
I wait.
Who knows when those Orcs will be gone? Or when they'll be back...I shudder, drawing my cloak around me and closing my eyes to try, just for a moment, to forget.
XxXxXxX
"Elien, nin mir."
The phrase is spoken in a breathless, almost broken voice, but even its soft whisper breaks the still air, enough for my eyes to snap open. The phrase is an endearment I have rarely heard, and only from one person.
"Ada," I sigh, relieved. His presence must mean the danger has passed. I slip down the tree and into his awaiting arms, and we are silent, for the stillness of the forest night can be more comforting than words.
I stir, looking at my father's partly bruised face and his blue eyes, reflecting sorrow and pain in the moon's soft rays. His long blonde hair is only slightly frazzled, but in all, not a member of it is drastically out of place. It's almost amusing, how our hair cannot be phased by a small fight or a large fight. But, something is different. Inside.
"Where is Naneth?" I ask.
Ada's broken blue eyes drift down to me, like pools full of unshed tears. "Amin hiraetha," he replies, his voice barely able form the words.
"What do you…" The impact of his words finally crash down upon me, and I take a few steps away from him. "How…why?" I feel an lump forming in my throat that prevents me from saying any more before I kneel down on the forest floor, tears rushing out of me like a flood.
I barely register my father kneeling beside me. "Amin hiraetha," he repeats, his own voice breaking with tears. I say nothing in reply; I only tighten my hold on his cloak as we mourn together for the loss of my mother—his wife—a woman who gave her very life to protect us.
Eventually, Ada gently shakes me. "Elien, we must return; the king must know that you are safe." Numbly, I rise, leaning heavily on my father for support as we silently wind our way back home. Nothing stirs, or even sings, as if the woods itself has been robbed of its voice.
It seems everything has had some thing taken from them this day.
A/N: Please let me know what you think! No flames, please; those shall go to Smaug for a snack. Thanks all!
****Translations****
Naneth? Mani naa ta?
Mother? What is it?
Ada
Father/Daddy
Rima!
Run!
Elien, nin mir.
Star, my jewel.
Amin hiraetha.
I am sorry.