A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist

Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).

This is my first Fanfic so reviews would be greatly appreciated! Please, please, please let me know what you think...otherwise I won't know and I'd like to improve my writing. Love it or hate it, let me know! Sorry it's short!

Chapter One- Just an Ordinary Bookworm

I've always suffered from a vague restlessness. A longing for an adventure that I have rationalized comes from reading too many adventure novels as a child. Regardless of reason, my thoughts had not changed, I still wanted my adventure and I was about to meet someone who could provide me with what I wanted...I just didn't know it yet.

I had awoken early, gone for a brisk run, and had stopped for a rest around one of Rivendell's many waterfalls when he had appeared before me.

"It's time," he had said.

No explanation or introduction, just 'it's time.' I had been half tempted to turn around and see if someone was behind me even though I'd heard no one approach. He was staring directly at me and I immediately thought this obnoxiously long-bearded man was strange. Not in a bad way but just a bit weird. He seemed familiar somehow but I couldn't place how.

"Time for what?" I questioned.

"For you to learn about the prophecy," he replied while motioning for me to follow him.

I had no clue who he was or what he was talking about but decided that although I didn't trust him and had no weapons, he was only an old man and I could take him if need be. (Oh, how wrong was I.)

I conceded and began following him as he led the way through Imladris.

We exchanged names along the way and I realized he was an Istari. There I was with no weapons and he had magic. Now I felt very safe.

We eventually arrived at the library of Imladris.

As we walked inside I took a deep breath through my nose, letting my favorite smell- books- fill my lungs.

"The prophecy is written here somewhere," Gandalf said, striding towards the nearest shelf.

"I don't mean to sound immodest but I've read almost everything here. I could help you find it quicker," I quipped.

"Your parents told me you liked to read," he said, smiling a little.

"How do you know my parents?" I asked.

"I met your father many years ago when he was still a guard of Rivendell. Naturally, after befriending Dagorast, I met your mother too. Even met you. Although that was many years ago when you were still in Ashare's arms."

I relaxed a bit. If he had known my parents he couldn't be half bad.

"Found it," he said, picking up a weathered piece of paper.

We sat down at a narrow table against the wall and he handed me the page of paper.

I had seen it lying around before but had never read it. The top of the page said my name and below it was what seemed to be a poem of some kind. It read:

Narloth,

Become the tenth

And lives you will save

An evil foe brings tragedy and death

A sacrifice is the only way

The one you love most, now lost

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Gandalf replied, his face wrinkling slightly as he thought.

"What made you tell me about this now then?" I questioned, surprised I hadn't read it before.

"Just a feeling," he said. " You should probably keep this from your parents for now."

"Not a problem. I don't have any…not anymore."

"They've sailed?" he asked with concern and curiosity.

"My father sailed but my mother was killed by Haradrim," I replied, moving my hands underneath the table so they didn't shake.

"I thought she made it back with you? That you were both okay?"

"She did and we were, but then Haradrim assassin's came. My father and mother hid me and then fought them but they managed to kill my mom. That's why my father sailed. His grief nearly took him."

"Forgive me. I didn't know," he said, sighing deeply.

"There's nothing to forgive. It was a long time ago and you aren't the one who killed her," I said, trying not to remember what had happened. After all this time it still hurt. I'd never see my Mother again and my Father had left me alone. I remember understanding his decision to sail, but I also found it a bit selfish that he'd left me alone when I was dealing with the same grief and some guilt that I was the reason she'd died.

"What about you? Are the Haradrim after you?"

I shake my head, " No my mother told them I had died on the trip back from Harad."

"Ashare was a wise woman," Gandalf said smiling a little.

I nod, agreeing with him. My mother had always been the one to give me advice and liked to read to me. She had made me into the bookworm I was today. She had been Haradrim for years, wise and battle-hardened. With visible tattoos, tan skin, dark hair and dark eyes, she'd been anything but ordinary looking to my father. He had passed no judgment on her appearance and they somehow became friends and then slowly they were no longer friends, but so much more than that.

When she became pregnant with me she wanted to allow me to see her heritage and begrudgingly my father accepted her request.

When I was able, I traveled with my mother to Harad. A place very different from Imladris and I loved it. I had loved the shouting and tattoos(I earned several of my own) and became proficient in hand to hand combat and horseback riding, often racing horses across the sand dunes. I had been very reckless and would stand in the face of danger without a thought. I nearly became almost fearless. This was noticed by some of the Haradrim and although I was young (for an elf) they had come to my mother proposing that I train as an assassin. My mother refused and we fled. Somewhere along the line she'd told them I was dead and after she'd died I was left with a grieving father who eventually left. Both of them gone. Leaving me alone with my grief, pain and guilt.

"So it seems like the prophecy is saying that I'll get to go on an adventure but will lose a loved one," I said, changing the subject before I could start crying.

"That's what it seems to imply, yes."

"I'm pretty sure that last part has already happened," I admitted, trying to keep myself together. I'd never cried in front of anyone before and I was not going to start now. I blinked my eyes rapidly and snatched up the paper, putting it back where it came from. I almost wanted to rip it apart. What was the point of going on an adventure if someone I loved would die as the outcome. And who would die? I had no family left.

"Perhaps," Gandalf muttered, but I could hear him and his voice was filled with doubt.

"How will I know when it's time for the prophecy to begin?"

"I'll be sure to keep you informed," he replied, standing and putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. He gave me no more answers, no more information, but my head was burning with a million questions.