Chapter 1: The Stubborn She-Elf And The Noble Elf

Chapter Synopsis: A she-elf of the forest is out walking one morning when she overhears the tree whispering of an injured elf. She rushes to his rescue only to come across the orcs that seemingly attacked him. Though she is told to run, she stays to fight and the story unfolds.

& Key Points: First, I am not good with Elvish, any kind for that matter. I wish that I knew the beautiful language but because I don't I don't want to insult anyone and so I choose not to even try. Any words written in italics signifies that someone is speaking Elvish. Now, if anyone would like to help me translate, that would be cool too. But no worries. Second, the character Valaina is entirely mine. She was inspired by no one and she was not taken from someone else's writing. If you have any discrepancies about the way I portray Tokien's characters, great but Valaina is mine so sorry dudes, I ain't changing her. Otherwise I accept all reviews and criticism. Harsh flames will be posted and I will humiliate you. That is all for now. &

The Great River of Wilderland, the Anduin, had always been special to the she-elf. She would often hike through the forest of trees, all whispering in voices of rustling leaves and chirping birds, speaking of the dreams they held dear and of the interesting things they had seen. It was remarkable for her even now to eavesdrop on the conversations they held with each other. Often times she would join in and they would listen keenly to the tales she spun while surprising her with some of their own. She loved each and every tree and each one returned the love. They adored her for treating them with such kindness and respect as though they were elves themselves.

That morning she had taken one of her usual hikes. Her every step was graceful as she walked the route she had nearly everyday her whole life. The grass was lush and green beneath her bare feet, tickling her slightly bronzed skin and intertwining with her toes. The blades wove themselves about each and every one as if to entice her to stay put awhile. She smiled at the thought and lifted her face towards the Heavens to catch the rays of sunlight spilling through the canopy above her head. They shined upon her as if returning her smile.

The trees then began to chatter – a breeze that whistled loud enough to be heard. It was lined with distress and a longing to be heard. The she-elf could feel it piercing her core and stopped walking at once to listen further. An elf…injured…the bank…

She need not hear more. Hiking up her dress she started for the bank at once, her light footsteps unheard and still looking graceful. Her long legs carried her quickly through the forest and she did not feel tired. She knew that many treacheries waited to take advantage of her people and would do what was necessary to protect any. She was well equipped with a dagger tucked securely in her belt while a sword was at her waist. Both had belonged to her father and both protected her as he once had.

Reaching the bank she stopped in her tracks and unsheathed her sword. It freed itself with a magical and singsong sound. To the elf lying barely conscious on the rocks forming the bank lining the great Anduin, the sound was of mercy. He could barely keep his eyes open and was trying very hard to summon the strength to ignore the immense pain tearing through his skull and his shoulder. He gritted his teeth in pain while managing to lift his weary gaze to the edge of the forest to see who had pulled the sword. He was met with a she-elf standing many feet away, sword ready to attack. She was obviously very focused on him and did not hear the enemy that was storming the bank in search of his body at that very moment. Pulling himself together for her sake, his first instinct to protect those against an enemy, he was able to form one word in warning.

"Run."

With her elven ears she had heard his weak, husky voice. Immediately she focused her attention on the surrounding area rather than on the wounded elf. She snapped her head to the west and could see three monstrous orcs thundering down the bank waving crude weapons at her. Without hesitation she answered the elf before taking a protective stance in front of his fallen form.

"No."

The orcs stopped in their tracks a few feet from her. They were grunting and snarling like animals, brandishing their weapons as if they expected her to run from them. She narrowed her eyes and stood her ground, bare feet digging into the rocks on the bank. The water consumed her right foot, blood staining the water from the wounded elf she was guarding.

"Give us the elf and we'll spare you." One of the orcs spoke brusquely, baring his teeth. They were razored into sharp points, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth and dripping down the slopes. His decaying tongue slipped from his mouth to wet his lips but they continued to bubble as if he were hungry.

She knew this to be a lie. Sadly she knew of what orcs did to the women and she-elves that they came across. They would kidnap them and take them as prisoners, shackled like common thieves and dragged along for the harsh ride. They would be raped and beaten, groped and touched in ways that scarred them for the rest of their days – if they were kept alive after they had been used. She had seen this occur many times and was thoroughly disgusted with the entire race of orcs. They treated females as their property and nothing more.

"If you want him then you will have to go through me, scum." She snapped, tightly gripping the hilt of her sword. She could see that her words did not please the orcs for they hissed and glared angrily at her. And then before she could even blink, one of them was charging for her as he waved his bent sword wildly. His comrades had no time to react as she simply spun out of the way of his sword, whirling about and driving the blade of her own deep into his back. He howled in response, dropping his weapon and falling to his knees. She could hear the other two readying their attack and formulated one of her own.

While this entire exchange had taken place, the wounded elf had been desperately trying to reach for something to use to help. He had lost his bow, his quiver, and all of his daggers in the battle that had taken place before. Now he was badly hurt and without a weapon, helplessly watching as the she-elf bravely back talked the orcs who threatened the both of them.

The she-elf sheathed her sword though it seemed an idiot thing to do, spreading her hands and bowing her head as the old Nandorin words spilled forth from her lips. The spell began to take effect as the orcs charged forward, slowly being taken over by her magic. Soon they were unable to move. Stunned. They glowed a blue color, frozen in their poses with their weapons ready to strike in mid step. She lowered her hands in satisfaction and allowed herself a moment to collect herself and to rest. Using magic took its toll but luckily this was a simple spell and she was herself in no time. And she had very little time left.

She returned to the wounded elf and heaved his body over one of her shoulders and felt the strap of her dress fall loose, trailing downward as if to escape. Though she was strong, his weight and the remaining orcs merely stunned at the moment, and who would soon be chasing her added much strain. The injured elf groaned in pain and she tried very hard to quicken her pace. His wounds needed tending to before the assault to his shoulder bled his precious veins and arteries dry. Again she quickened her steps upon hearing the once stunned orcs stampeding after her into the forest.

"Leave me." His voice would have been inaudible to a human's ears. She set her jaw in response, shaking her head once from side to side. She thought him noble; she'd give him that, but quite stupid. Had he not seen her magic? The way she used her sword? In a way she was insulted but swallowed the feeling and instead decided to perceive him as the chivalrous kind. She heard him trying to suppress another groan through his heavy and husky breathing. She wondered somewhere in the back of her head if he was proud or if he was trying to be brave. Given that he had told her to run, to leave him, she opted for the second. There was just something about him that told her he was a good man and she chose to believe that.

Hearing the orcs gaining on her, she ceased her running. With the utmost care she sat the elf down against the trunk of a tree. Its whispers asked many a question and she answered every one. She could hear the elf, hanging onto consciousness, his mind racing as he fought to keep awake and to answer the trees as well. His mind was weak, his thoughts breaking as easily as a twig underneath a traveler's foot. She pitied him as his frustration and pain worsened.

She knelt down in front of him to get a better look. The blow to his head was still bleeding, as was his shoulder. His fair blonde hair was stained crimson to match the head wound. The gash looked rather deep, skin ripped away and tangled with his locks. His shoulder wasn't much better though the wound was not as messy. The blade that had committed the crime had been shoved straight through. Blood seeped through the fabric and spread at an alarming rate. And the orcs were coming ever closer. She didn't think twice, taking the end of her dress into her fingers and tearing off a majority of the bottom of it. The fabric was thin enough to rip easily. She tied it about his shoulder, wrapping rapidly as the enemies got closer. She tied it off with a knot before pulling out her sword. The sound earned a response from the blonde haired elf. His eyes opened halfway, his irises clouded in his weary state.

"Don't speak – I know you'll try to." She ran her thumb over his brow, unclear as to why she did so. She felt the need to reassure him, to comfort him. "All is well."

"Your name…lady?" He asked weakly. She smiled warmly, somehow knowing that he would disobey her as she had him.

"There will be a time for introductions later." As she spoke the last word she spun around, her sword singing as it swung threateningly. The force cut clear through the closest orc to her, slicing into him easily as if he were butter. It had not the time to even scream, its distorted face frozen in one of pain and fury. The two halves fell apart after the wave of blood spurted out, spraying across her dress. The ruby streaks dripped along the fabric.

The last orc was already descending upon the she-elf, hurling himself forward with the tip of his sword aimed at her. Throwing herself aside, she landed with a muffled thud on the blanket of grass, still clutching her sword. When she pushed herself up on her elbows and turned her head slightly her eyes grew wide as she saw the tip of the blade had buried itself into the bark of the tree just inches above the elf's head. She cursed under her breath for putting him in danger. Getting up quickly she charged forward, hoping to break the orc's sword. But alas, he freed the blade from the tree's wound and she had to catch herself. She whirled around and the two swords met in a metallic song, both holding fast.

"You cannot have him." She muttered between her teeth. Her body trembled under the strength of the orc. He was a formidable opponent and he knew that. His evil smile taunted and poked at her. His eyes danced with laughter and it angered her.

Suddenly she was losing. The orc's weight was bending her body backwards. She let out a sharp moan through her clenched teeth, still trying to force herself up. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and mixed with her hair. Strands fell loose from her braid and pasted themselves to her cheeks. She was pushed further downward and gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and still trying to take control of her body. Her back and shoulders collided with the elf slumped against the tree then. The elf that she was protecting. The one who had been valiant in telling her to leave. She no longer took it as an offense. In a way it seemed that he had thought her important enough to save. And he was important too.

"You cannot have him!" She cried. With a grunt she finally fought him off. He stumbled backward as she straightened up to her full height once more. Save but the slight ache in her back she was perfectly fine. Without another thought she flung herself forward, sword raised. The blade proceeded on through his throat and protruded out the back. She ripped it loose just as fast as it had violated his skin and watched him stagger about like a drunken fool. More blood was spilled, flowing from the fatal wound and covering his front. When he fell to the ground to join the other two before him in death, the she-elf sheathed her sword with a heavy sigh.

Turning, she returned to the blonde haired elf. She placed two slender fingers to his neck while using the other to gently tip his head to the side. His heartbeat pulsed weakly beneath his skin. She removed her fingers and resumed her position, taking his weight over her shoulder and rising to her feet. As she did so her eyes caught sight of the tree's laceration and tuned into the sobs that racked its branches. She had not the heart to leave and return later to heal the bark. She instead moved towards it, laying her hand to the assault. From her palm seeped the old Nandorin healing power and it spread through every leaf, every notch. Soon the tree was giving thanks to the she-elf: a quiet sigh in the breeze.

From there she made her way through the forest to her home. She moved even swifter than before, knowing that the elf over her shoulder needed her help and he needed it fast. She could hear his labored breathing with her keen ears and could feel the fear for him rising in her chest. She didn't want him to die, especially when she could save him.

"Hold on brave one. Please. Hear my voice and know that I may help you." She whispered the words for his comfort but also for hers. She wished that it was as easy to magically heal living flesh as it was to heal the bark of a tree. It required the highly skilled and trained to heal flesh and this she-elf had not had the proper training to do so. However, she knew how to use medicine and she could mend his wounds that way. He just had to hang on.

The house that she had lived in her entire life was located in the heart of the forest, built around the trunk of one of the mightiest trees. The one bedroom was circular, a decent shrubbery fencing in the trunk securely. If one were to climb the rope ladder hanging from the trunk, one could continue on up through the hole in the ceiling and climb all of the way up to the tree house that was settled in the highest branches of the tree. It was all very cozy. And out back was her garden and in it were the plants she would use to help her new company.

Reaching her home she opened the door and stepped inside. She and her father had made the floor by asking permission of the trees to use driftwood, sanding and smoothing the pieces down into boards and securely nailing them down. Any wood that they had used they had first asked permission and the trees had granted it to them, knowing that they were good people. But of course now it was only her.

She laid the elf down with the greatest of care on her bed, laying him down in the middle of the double bed she had once shared. Once he was on his back she tore at his tunic though she continued to be gentle. The blood was already soaking through the makeshift bandaging she had used before. She worked quickly and soon he was left in only his trousers. It was then really time to get down to business.

The she-elf went back outside and around the house to the garden. It was protected by another shrubbery, this one colored white and much craftier than the one indoors. Plants of all kinds grew in patches of varieties of shapes and colors. Each one was used for something different and nothing went to waste even if they were only used to be put into a jug of water for the table she dined at. But she had not the time to pause and admire her work, taking a fistful of athelas and swiftly pulling her dagger, cutting loose the weeds for the injuries she needed to tend to.

She went about collecting the different instruments and tools she would need: real bandages, a needle and thread, washcloths, a bowl filled with water, and of course the athelas she had brought from the garden. First she took a section of the athelas and placed it into the bowl of water, using the hilt of her dagger to crush the substances until it resembled a thick, gooey paste. It looked rather nasty and felt cold to the touch. She knew it would be unpleasant and that it would sting horribly but if it would save the elf's life then she didn't care. Dipping the corner of a rag into the paste she carefully lowered it to his shoulder and he reacted almost instantly.

She was quite sure that he would have sat up had he not been so weak. Instead his eyes flew open and his hand snapped out, clutching her wrist in a vice grip. She was slightly shocked at how strong he managed to grip her. He groaned in pain, his eyes closing once more as if to shut out the burning in his shoulder. His brow was crinkled from the effort and his jaw was clamped shut. She did not pull the cloth away but reached out her other hand, pressing her fingertips to his forehead to brush away the stray hairs that had fallen there.

"I know it hurts but it will save you. Lie down and rest." She said softly. His own fingers loosened about her wrist and she saw the white imprints they left disappear as he did so. When she returned her eyes to his face she watched as he fell back against the pillows. She set the rag down on the tray she had brought over and cupped his face in her hands. She leaned in close and could feel the same fear growing in her chest. "Hold on. Hold on to my voice."

The blonde haired elf was falling in and out of unconsciousness so often that he was forgetting which was which. He could faintly remember the she-elf who he head seen as he lay on the bank, half his body in the shallow edge of the water. He remembered telling her to run and he had remembered her being stubborn. It almost made him want to smile but the pain was so bad that he found himself wanting to just black out instead. He could also remember hearing a soothing, female voice speaking Elvish words to him as the wind blew gently through his hair though it scraped harshly against his wounds. He could hear her now.

"Hold on. Hold on to my voice." The she-elf was afraid that he was fading. She feared that he was on his way to the afterlife. But she did not want to give up so easily on him. She had remembered once reading in an old book about an old Maiar way to reach those who were on their way to death's door. She held his face dearly and leaned in even closer, so close that had she moved even an eyelash, she could have kissed his lips. "I do not know your name but I do know this: I sense that you are brave and I sense that you are noble. I pray that you hear me and return. Return. I pray that you return."

She repeated the words, pouring all of herself into them. She felt lightheaded and knew that something was happening. She knew that something she was doing was helping and so she continued to whisper to him, her voice growing quieter and quieter until even an elf would not be able to distinguish her words. It was then that all in one instant, she could almost feel his spirit return. Her eyes flickered open and she was surprised to see that his eyes were half open. She breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Your…name…lady?" His voice was still weak but she knew he would recover. With a small smile she let go of his face but did not pull away just yet. Though his half lidded eyes were hard to see she could feel them focused on her.

"Valaina Amandil. Now rest and I will take care of you." He seemed satisfied and his eyes closed completely. The very last thing he saw though his vision was blurry, was the she-elf picking up the rag and bowl again to continue her ministrations while his tired body and mind slept in the knowledge that he was being well taken care of.

Valaina continued to tenderly bathe his shoulder wound in the athelas paste she had concocted. She was relieved that he was sleeping for the stitching would be unpleasant. It was best for him to rest and regain his strength. She was glad that he would live. The feeling in her chest had gone away.

When the paste had been spread and was beginning to dry she switched gears and took a better look at his head. She took the leftover paste and poured it into the middle of a new rag. Carefully she pressed it to the gash marring the side of his head. She held the rag in place to stop the bleeding and to keep the area from infecting. While she did she studied the elf's face.

His face was a clean slate. His features were calm and peaceful, putting her mind to rest from worrying that he felt discomfort. His skin was even and perfect, his pigment a pale yet healthy color. She'd wished she'd taken time to notice the color of his eyes but had been preoccupied each time he had opened them. She guessed that they had to be beautiful to contrast his blonde hair and fair skin.

Taking her dagger from the tray she cut a decent sized square of the bandaging and pulled the rag from his head, returning it to the bowl. She then took the little athelas she had left and placed it against the gash. It had stopped bleeding and the clumps that had dried were cleaned away. The athelas leaves were spread out over the open wound and over top was the square she had cut out. The goop acted like glue and would hold the leaves and bandage in place.

By this time the paste on his shoulder had completely dried. She took the needle and unraveled the thread from the spool, easily pushing it through the tiny eye of the needle whereas a human would need better light and more time. She leaned in and positioned the needle at the side of the wound nearest to his neck. She began to stitch it closed while looking on with intent eyes. When she had first started to stitch up flesh for the injured she had nearly gagged. But over time she had made peace with it and simply sewed. But she still detested the feeling.

Sewing up the wound took much time and when she was finished she cut the end of the thread with her dagger and made sure the stitches were secure. From there she gently lifted his arm, placing it over her own shoulder while she wrapped the bandaging about the wound. She made sure that she did this at a slow pace and every so often glanced at his face to make sure that she had not hurt him. This also took time but she didn't mind. After she had bandaged up his shoulder and collected all of her materials onto the tray, she set about her other chores which consisted of cleaning all that she had soiled in helping the elf, washing his clothes, and preparing dinner. She knew not when he would wake and so she stayed close to home.