Prologue
'for from me and from you a new star shall arise'
~J.R.R Tolkien, The Silmarillion – Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad~
A slender figure weaved its way though the trees as fast as could be allowed, yet the close proximity of the trees made any real attempts of speed unlikely, yet not wholly impossible, or she could not doubt the hope that it was as such. They were gaining on her and speed was her only ally upon her side at present. The fear that welled within her now, was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and she had been in many situations that would have been better suited for such a fear in which held her heart in its icy grasp. Yet, they did paled to compare the shadows that stalked her under the heavy eves of the forest this night. The waning pale light of the moon, which managed to slip through the dense canopy which hung over head, and though the sparse light aided her in her plight, it also served to lengthen the shadows which placed such ill ease within her heart.
She knew that time was running out, such a prophesy was not made by any gift of foresight which her kin had been blessed with, instead it came from the thundering foot steps which echoed around her in the confines of the forest. Though even then she found herself questioning as to whether the pounding of her pursuers feet was not just the pounding of her own heart. However, the once distant shrieks of the Nazgûl sounded closer than ever before, frightening close. Moreover, such a thing meant one of two things, some had by some form of luck managed to find a way around Túrion, if not that, then he had fallen to them. Though she prayed, with all that she had and the little hope that remained within her heart, that it was not the latter for she could not bear it. Such a life, a life without Túrion was no life at all, at least not for her. Such a future was a dark one, for he had brought such a light into it, and her path in this life was forever lit to her as long as he had walked it with her. But more than that he had gave her the greatest gift that he could have given her, one that she never imagined that she would have ever have or even wanted. Yet from the moment Hûreth had placed her babe into her weary arms, the mother overcame the warrior, as if there was nothing more natural to her than this. As much as the grief wished to consumer her now, she could not allow it, strength was all she had to aid her in her flight now.
The sudden rustling from the eves above her head seemed to tighten and harden every muscle in her body, she she readied herself for the yet unseen threat which loomed over head. With her heat hammering even harder in her chest, as her eyes strained to see beyond the darkness which shrouded her. All she wanted to run faster, put as much distance as she could from the danger behind her and now above her, yet being unable to was almost to much to bare. It did not however mean that she was completely unprepared for any foolish enough to attempt to attack her, child or not, she was still a Ranger, a very maternal one as Halbarad had spoken that such a combination did not bode well for anyone who she felt was a threat to her child. Slipping a sleeping Calien into one arm, allowing her now free hand to slip down to free the dagger from her belt, the feel of the cool metal in her palm was almost as comforting to her as the warm body which her other hand held securely cradled upon her shoulder. The dagger was not much, but at least it was some measure of protection for them from whatever danger lurked in the dark forest. A danger which had just fallen from the lofty treetops in a move which would have had any normal Man laying upon the ground withering in broken pain, if not already being welcomed within the Halls of Mandos.
Instinct ran through her, only sensing a threat looming inches from her child, Niriel let her hand snap forward, she had only one shot at this, and she was determined to make to count. Aimed for the heart which lay level with her raised arm, yet her strike was stopped by a steely grip, freezing the blade as it nicked the material over the still beating heart. She rose her gaze then, refusing not to meet the gaze of her murderer, only to look into a set of very familiar eyes, recognition flashed through her, loosening the tight knot which seemed to have taken residence in her chest for the first time since she had began to run. "Túrion – I thought- by the Valar I thought the worst" her words stumbled over one another before she threw herself into her husband equally as desperate grasp, words were not needed to describe what she had feared as she fled from the battle, leaving him to stand alone. Sooner than either would have liked Túrion gently began to untangle them from their embrace, yet his touch lingered.
"Nîriel, we cannot linger here. They are closing in on us even now. They shall be upon us soon if we do not continue to move" before either could speak or decide upon another plan of escape from beneath the pressing dark of the forest, another voice came from the darkness, the voice seeming to be instilled within the very air around them. "In that you are wrong Túrion, Prince of the Aratar. They are upon you now" and as if bled from the darkness, a figure in white came towards them, the sight of the man standing before them, brought neither the sense of relief that it once had done, at it had done for Nîriel. "Curunir, traitor of the Maiar. Tell me, what does has he offered you that the Aratar and Eru do not? Have we not taught you all that you know and is He not the one who gave you life and purpose?" demanded Túrion, his voice turning as cold and unforgiving as the icy tops of Caladhras, yet the Maiar still stood arrogantly before him with neither guilt nor pardon in his expression as he regarded the godly Prince before him. The White Wizard replied with only a laugh, leaning upon his staff that he had no need of aid from, as his dark gaze regarded the burning blue gaze of Turion, before finally answering. "The Dark Lord has the power not even The Holy Ones possess, taught by the strongest who stood among them and in that power we shall share, when we rule this Middle Earth".
"That is because they choose not to use them, as you well know" Túrion thundered "Maiar, it is not for you or Mairon to rule the World which Eru created or to continue the discord which Melkor began. Would you gladly share in his fate in the Void?" but Saurman laughed once more at these words, a cold, cruel sound, and Nîriel felt Túrion stiffen beside her, though she doubted it was from the same shiver of fear which raced through her own body at the terrible sound. The White Wizard was not one she would be able to fight even as skilled as she was, she was no match against his power, as had been proven before when she had questioned his judgement long ago, the power of the Maiar was more powerful than that of the Dúnedain, but Túrion's power was something entirely different, if he chose to use it.
"The right of control is there for those strong enough to take it, there is none able enough to stop us. The Aratar will do nought but sit upon their godly thrones and watch" yet here his dark eyes narrowed as he regarded the golden haired Valar before him. The regal air, which surrounded him, and the light of Eru shone brightly from within, as did the light which shone from within all The Holy Ones, much brighter than those of the Maiar and the First Born and much brighter than that of the Second Born, no one could doubt the Prince's heritage nor his thinly veiled powers. But the bright blue gaze of Túrion did not falter once from the dark corrupted glare of the Maiar both believing in their own words and their own purpose, and neither willing to submit to will of the other.
"The Rings of the Elven Lords are fading, Galadriel and Elrond cannot hold against the might of Isengard and Mordor if joint. And Gandalf pah! He has blinded himself with the love he feels for lesser creatures and his faith in me is unshakable, he would doubt those against me sooner than he would turn his back away from me. Going as far as not even heeding your warnings concerning me. You in whom he stands in uttermost regard, Prince" he gave a smile which was no more than a bearing of teeth "The only one now who could stop us in our plans is you. Son of Manwe and Varda, the only Valar who still dares to walk openly within Arda".
As he had been speaking, from the shadows came the Nazgûl's and behind them, the orcs, with bared teeth and their clanking, crude weapons. They were surrounded and had no clear way out, escaping such a situation seemed bleak, and near hopeless to Nîriel, no plan that raced through her head seemed to have the slightest chance of working in their favour. Yet she could not so easily give up and merely wait for death. However, Nîriel saw from the corner of her searching gaze, that Túrion had his eyes set on only one thing. Standing to the left of Saurman, and closest to them, was the Witch King of Angmar, Túrion hated remarkably few in his long years upon this earth, yet the Lord of the Nazgûl and Sauron the Deceiver where two that he did. 'I have seen deep within them, and have found nothing. There is nothing left within them that could be saved as no good remains. Their hearts are so consumed with their own greed and the Shadow, no humanity is left within them now'. Túrion had told her as such on one long night when she had first saw the mild tempered Valar strike out against the Witch-King for the first time, it was also the first time in which she saw Túrion as he should be.
"Your death will finally set the plans of throwing this world into evolution, as the Valar should have done years ago. Yet" hear the White Wizard stopped himself, and seemingly finding himself deep within his own thoughts before seeming to shaking himself from his thoughts and beginning to speak once more. "The Dark Lord, however, wishes to have one thing from you, something he finds of great importance, which he feels, could throw this war in whomever's side this – power is set within. Your daughter" At his final words Nîriel felt her blood suddenly freeze and her breath catch in her throat, yet her heart hammered still, heavily in her breast, she was barely aware of the sudden jerk from the body beside her, and from small still funtioning place in her mind she could believe that the Wizards words were as horrifying to Túrion as they were to her. Nîriel knew that she would gladly give her life on this night, to kill these servants of Sauron, to hold his coming for just a while longer, to her there was no nobler way to die than defending what you believed in and held dearest to your heart. That was what every Chieftain and member of the Dúnedain did without thought or question, each and every single one of them including her father and brother had sacrificed just that to keep their lands and their people safe from Sauron's constant threat of Shadow. It took them away from their families, never seeing their children grow and learn, and took them to soon into the welcoming embrace of death. Death, Nîriel could understand such a fate and not fear it, as it was the fate of all Men as the Second Born, their gift and their burden to carry. Yet for Túrion and Calien, death should never have a place in their immortal lives, and that was what kept Nîriel contented, knowing that they would, when the world became to tiresome and weary for them, they would go and sit within the great palace upon Ilmarin, thrones beside Manwe and Varda waiting for their homecoming. Yet even more so than death, Nîriel would give her very soul, so that her child, her beautiful Calien. Who's light came from her brighter than any other soul who walked upon this earth, even that of Túrion, who had sworn that the light, which shone from his daughter's eyes, could only be found within his own mother's gentle gaze, he had in jest said that Eru had made his daughter in Varda's earthy form. So for, that child to be handed into the dark shadow of Sauron, to have her light shrouded by such darkness, she could not stand such a thing, not for her daughter.
"I vow here that your Lord will not lay a hand upon my child today nor any day!" once more it was Túrion's voice, which rang throughout the clearing, and though the moon could still not break through the eves of the trees no longer mattered as the light which burst forth from Túrion was enough for all to see well by. And he was terrible, and resplendent in his wrath, she had rarely seen him so consumed in fury, and she wished that she would never see such a thing again. The power came from him in great waves, sending an unwanted shiver down her spine and cold fingers of dread seemed to wrap themselves around her heart and for the second moment she truly saw him for what he truly, was for in that moment he could not pass for any man or even as one of the Firstborn. So bright was he, even the orcs drew back with fright and painful shrieks at the sudden flare of light and shifting themselves from the fury which had so suddenly washed over the small clearing. "Darkness has no claim upon her, she is a child of the Dúnedain, descendant of Elendil and granddaughter to Manwe and Varda, a Princess, by right, of the Aratar. Everything, which is Light, and Good in this world has made her, your shadow has no claim to her Saurman" Nîriel finally found her voice once more, the fear and anger finally giving her back her voice which rang clear and strong within the clearing, she made to move forward but Túrion's body blocked both her way and her view of the White Wizard. Though this it did not stop his voice from reaching out to her.
"Light Star of the West you name her, have you not? And what a pretty speech you speak for her but it is only words you can not stop the shadow from what it seeks. Yet now here my words Nîriel daughter of Arador. Even the purest light within the world can be tainted by shadow, none can escape it, none can run from it, shadows must follow the light, as true as the day wanes the night must follow in its wake. Now give me the babe cradled in your arms, you need not have to suffer a painful death. Just hand me the child!" The words held such a compelling power to them, and a small part of her willed her body to do as he asked to just pass over the insignificant bundle in her arms to him, she need not suffer over nothing. It felt as if a butterfly had suddenly taken a perch upon her cheekbone, and it was as if a veil had suddenly been lifted from her mind, Nîriel stared down as if for the first time once more at the face of Calien, who tiny hand was pressed against her cheek. A unholy fury rose within her at the Wizards deception, but more onto herself in forgetting the power in which was held in The White Wizard's voice. A soft hand upon her elbow stilled Nîriel's tongue before she could once more lash out towards Saurman, and her grey gaze locked upon Túrion's clear blue ones. Before as if it were nothing more than a gentle whisp of the wind, his voice rang within her mind.
'Nîriel, heed me Meleth. We will not survive to see the sunrise, you have seen this vision before' feeling her eyes widen slightly, and her throat tighten, this gift of her lineage was both a blessing and a curse, to see what was to be was a painful one yet such a gift was one she was chosen to bear. Though such a thought held no comfort for her, especially in this. She had hoped, had prayed that she could change the events which were now unfolding before her very eyes, but hope was as uplifting as it was painful to those brave enough to believe in it as it was now proving to her. As her gaze flicked down upon a set of now fully awake grey eyes which stared up at her with that trust and love only a child can gave to their parent. She could not bare the thought of Calien's death, it was to painful a thought even to consider. Calien had yet to see this beautiful world which she was born into, to experience everything which lay at the feet she had not yet learnt to walk upon, as they shaped her into the woman that she was born to be.
'Meleth, our time within this world is over. Yet I can spare our daughter life, by my powers I can send her from this place, a place far from the Shadow reach where she can live freely and without fear. But we must act now, if we wish to cling to that hope' nodding her head in the slightest movement, showing her understanding, though it did not lessen the pain. Nîriel could not help the sudden film of tears which covered her eyes, impairing her sight as she lowered her head to place a lingering kiss upon Calien's soft forehead, as tiny fingers curled themselves within the loosen tendrils of her hair. As if Calien too wished for to hold her there for a little while longer, or maybe that was her own wishful thinking at play. Oh! To gain such an unexpected blessing in her life, only to lose it so soon, like the fickle flicker of the teasing flame on a windy night before it is snuffed out leaving nothing but its memory in its wake. It did not seem fair, yet much within her life was not fair, like it were within many lives. She supposed that was why her mother cursed her with such a name, Weeping Maiden, she had been named and throughout her life too much weeping had she borne witness to, and how much as had done herself in her short 35 years of life. A selfish piece of her did not want to let her child go, for how then can she protect her, as was her duty, if she did not remain in her sight? Reason returned soon enough to her. "Naneth loves you Calien, even when you doubt it , let it carry you where-ever your path shall lead you, and I shall walk with you then. Namárië, my darling. Be safe" bestowing one last kiss she passed her into Túrion's waiting arms. Unable to keep watch on her daughter in fear that she would give into the rising urge to just snatch her back into her protective embrace and keep her there; instead she turned her gaze upon Saurman, who was speaking in low, harsh tones to the Nazgûl Lord. So Nîriel found her gaze returning slowly once more to her husband and daughter, just as Túrion had slipped something under the soft blankets which were wrapped safely around Calien, a blanket that Nîriel herself had made her daughter in the long hours of the night during her confinement, her fingers still bore the scars of her labour.
"Melin chen, Taurelen" he murmured before kissing her forehead as gently as she had done moments before, his golden hair creating a protective curtain around them. 'Varda please, watch over her in my stead. Light her path, and sooth her fears, as I can no longer walk beside her within this life' she prayed silently to the still unseen skies as a blinding flash over came the clearing. Sending the servants of Sauron scattering with loud shrieks and angry curses, and though Saurman's thunders yells were heard, his words were lost within the din of noise. And in one swift, smooth movement Nîriel had her sword with her hand, taking the moment of panic within the woods to ready herself before the coming attack and it would come, the bright light would have only served to anger the orcs. However, just because she would die this night did not mean that she would not take as many as she could with her. A brief flash of gold from the edge of her eyes, she saw a now Calien-less Túrion beside her, his own sword with his hands, just as ready as she was for the coming battle, seeing the same set jaw and fierce expression she too felt. However, he suddenly turned towards her, cradling her face in his free and captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring so many unspoken words, emotions and moments they were never to have in this life into that single action. Nîriel could not help but cling to him almost desperately even after they had pulled apart, each breathing heavily, Túrion's thumb ran over her cheekbone is a soothing sweep. "Melin Chen, Tinweniel. Until we reunite once more in the Halls of Mandos" as quickly as it had happened, as the calm before the storm finally broke free, as their enemies recovered from their shock, with renewed fury for the ones standing before them, and then the wave of orcs and Nazgûl were upon them.
Just as Túrion and Nîriel drew their last breaths, just as the sun began its slow ascension into the sky, the bodies of their dead foes surrounding them. Both praying for the safe-keeping of their child, hoping that where ever she was, she was safe. Hope and Jacob Sullivan were running to where they had heard the cries of their young son, only to find him standing over a small bundle laying upon the cold, soiled ground in the forest park they had decided to go to for a lazy Sunday walk when the weather was mild, a rare change for Ireland. Hope bent over her son taking a closer look at the small, dark bundle, left on the ground, not expecting not find anything but the blanket. She however, found her breath catching in her throat at the sight of a silently wriggling baby, wrapped snugly within a thick black knitted blanket, with a silver star sewn on with the palest silver thread and the words 'Calien Elennúmien', stitched beside it in the same shimmering silver thread. A beautiful shimmering necklace lay beside her, tucked carefully into the blanket folds, yet still managing to catch the bright light of the sun. It was her son's voice, which broke Hope from the captivating silvery grey gaze that seemed to have held her within their tiny grasp as if they had some strange power over her. "Can we keep her mummy? Please I'll walk it every day!"
Elvish
Namárië – Farewell
Melin chen – I love you
Taurelen – My Princess
Names: (Pardon if the meanings are wrong! Feel free to correct.)
Calien – (Q) Light
Elennúmien – (Q) Star of the West
Nîriel - (S) Weeping Maiden
Tinweniel – (Q) Maiden Crowned with Stars
Túrion – (Q) Son of the Great One
(AN - Re-edited – 20/07/2011. I thought I would dabble in the wonderful works of J.R.R Tolkien for a bit of fun, adding in some of my own OCs and a few wee twists to the legendary tales of Arda of my own devious (or not) making. I am slowly re-editing my first 9 chapters as my mistakes are crippling to the story. Only 8 more to go before I can continue on with the adventure :).