"Oh, Menel, must you go? Is there no way you could stay? Just until
the child is born?"
"No, Elin, I wish I could stay. I am needed at Darthang. You know that it is important for us to reoccupy the fortresses of Mordor now that Sauron has been defeated. We must be sure that he can never return." The tall elf looked lovingly at his wife. "I must go. But when the baby is born, let me know. If it is a boy, he should be called Meneldur, for he is a gift from heaven. If it is a girl, she should be called Gil, for she is a spark and glitter of you, my star."
Elin could not hold back her tears as Menel walked away. He would be gone for a thousand years, hidden away in the heart of Mordor. Elin had every confidence in her husbands skill with the sword and the bow, but worry still plagued her. She would bear a child in less than a year, and Menel would not see his offspring until the child was almost a thousand years old.
She herself felt that she would never see him again.
Gil ran ahead of the tiny band of elves, her long hair blowing in the wind. She had never before been outside of Lothlorien, and it was a great adventure for her.
"Gil! Come back here!" Gil turned back to the sound of her mother's voice, her feet much slower to return than they had been to leave. Her young heart danced within her chest. They had been traveling for several weeks, but soon, they would be at Darthang. Soon, Gil would see her father for the first time of her young life.
Gil was only fifteen years old. She knew she was lucky to be seeing her father, for there were travelers in the band who were more than a hundred years old, going to meet some relation they had never seen. Gil's father had been one of the later groups sent out to Mordor, she knew, and she harbored no fear about what she would find there. Sauron had been gone for two hundred years now, and Mordor was fast becoming fit for habitation again.
Elin was not so carefree as her child. In the years since Menel's departure, she had not been able to shake the feeling of doom. The last Orcs had been driven north many years ago, but she shook with fear every time she heard the mournful cry of a warg. If wargs were still around, could not some remote band of Orcs stay hidden as well? Were there still those dark creatures in Mordor? Elin hoped that it was not so, but still, she preferred to keep Gil close to her.
Night seemed to fall faster in Mordor. Twilight was almost non- existent, and the darkness was black and heavy, as if it was a tarp thrown over them and not just the departure of day.
Elin tried to calm her fears by telling herself that Sauron was long gone, but she could not believe it in this dark, forsaken place. The other Elves seemed not to notice her melancholy mood. They danced before the fire, singing and telling stories as if they were home.
Perhaps this would be home. Occupation of the dark lands were encouraged. Maybe she and Gil would live here to be closer to Menel. She shivered at the thought. Could she really give up her beautiful home in the forest of Lorien for this barren place? Even for Menel? What about Gil? Her daughter should be raised in a place of beauty, not this miserable place.
Elin looked over at her daughter. Gil was dancing merrily, not seeming to care that her surroundings were dismal. Her laughter rang out with that of the other elvin babes and children. Her eyes held the spark of her name, and her hair was the golden mane of her father. Surly, her daughter rivaled Tinuviel for beauty. Was it her fate to also rival the elvin-maid of old's adventure and doom?
Baroc could see the group through the night. His eyes squinted against the light of the fire, but he shielded his face and turned to look again. These were the creatures who had run them from their homes. These were the creatures who had killed many of them, and driven the remnant away. All but his small band, of course. Hate boiled up within him, threatening to spill over at any moment, but he restrained himself. His people were not fools as the Uruk-hai had been. They had deserved to die for their stupidity. And so did these Elvin creatures.
Baroc and his group of warriors waited long into the night. They were not fools to rush in and be killed. They were the most cunning of all the Orcs, or so they thought. After all, they had not been run off like all the rest. They had remained hidden these many years, becoming more cunning and sure of themselves. They could hide before the very faces of the sharpest eyed elf, and not be seen. They had learned to control the hate breed into them by Sauron.
Baroc spat to cleanse his mouth of the name of Sauron. They were no longer the stooges of Sauron and his red eye. They bore more hate to him than any other. Now they could relive their need to kill and mutilate, their desire to hate and let anger rule, in a manner that did not make them slaves to it. Tonight, they would let hate and anger rule. Tomorrow, they would return to their home deep in the caves, and force hate to wait for the next attack. They would not destroy themselves as the Uruk-hai and the Northern Orcs had.
Baroc could wait no longer. The fire had died down to coals, and only one sleepy guard remained awake. He signaled to his people, and the Orcs jumped from their hiding places. A sickening, growling wail escaped from the throats of the Orcs they slashed at the unsuspecting elves.
Mayhem ruled. And Baroc loved every minute of it.
"No, Elin, I wish I could stay. I am needed at Darthang. You know that it is important for us to reoccupy the fortresses of Mordor now that Sauron has been defeated. We must be sure that he can never return." The tall elf looked lovingly at his wife. "I must go. But when the baby is born, let me know. If it is a boy, he should be called Meneldur, for he is a gift from heaven. If it is a girl, she should be called Gil, for she is a spark and glitter of you, my star."
Elin could not hold back her tears as Menel walked away. He would be gone for a thousand years, hidden away in the heart of Mordor. Elin had every confidence in her husbands skill with the sword and the bow, but worry still plagued her. She would bear a child in less than a year, and Menel would not see his offspring until the child was almost a thousand years old.
She herself felt that she would never see him again.
Gil ran ahead of the tiny band of elves, her long hair blowing in the wind. She had never before been outside of Lothlorien, and it was a great adventure for her.
"Gil! Come back here!" Gil turned back to the sound of her mother's voice, her feet much slower to return than they had been to leave. Her young heart danced within her chest. They had been traveling for several weeks, but soon, they would be at Darthang. Soon, Gil would see her father for the first time of her young life.
Gil was only fifteen years old. She knew she was lucky to be seeing her father, for there were travelers in the band who were more than a hundred years old, going to meet some relation they had never seen. Gil's father had been one of the later groups sent out to Mordor, she knew, and she harbored no fear about what she would find there. Sauron had been gone for two hundred years now, and Mordor was fast becoming fit for habitation again.
Elin was not so carefree as her child. In the years since Menel's departure, she had not been able to shake the feeling of doom. The last Orcs had been driven north many years ago, but she shook with fear every time she heard the mournful cry of a warg. If wargs were still around, could not some remote band of Orcs stay hidden as well? Were there still those dark creatures in Mordor? Elin hoped that it was not so, but still, she preferred to keep Gil close to her.
Night seemed to fall faster in Mordor. Twilight was almost non- existent, and the darkness was black and heavy, as if it was a tarp thrown over them and not just the departure of day.
Elin tried to calm her fears by telling herself that Sauron was long gone, but she could not believe it in this dark, forsaken place. The other Elves seemed not to notice her melancholy mood. They danced before the fire, singing and telling stories as if they were home.
Perhaps this would be home. Occupation of the dark lands were encouraged. Maybe she and Gil would live here to be closer to Menel. She shivered at the thought. Could she really give up her beautiful home in the forest of Lorien for this barren place? Even for Menel? What about Gil? Her daughter should be raised in a place of beauty, not this miserable place.
Elin looked over at her daughter. Gil was dancing merrily, not seeming to care that her surroundings were dismal. Her laughter rang out with that of the other elvin babes and children. Her eyes held the spark of her name, and her hair was the golden mane of her father. Surly, her daughter rivaled Tinuviel for beauty. Was it her fate to also rival the elvin-maid of old's adventure and doom?
Baroc could see the group through the night. His eyes squinted against the light of the fire, but he shielded his face and turned to look again. These were the creatures who had run them from their homes. These were the creatures who had killed many of them, and driven the remnant away. All but his small band, of course. Hate boiled up within him, threatening to spill over at any moment, but he restrained himself. His people were not fools as the Uruk-hai had been. They had deserved to die for their stupidity. And so did these Elvin creatures.
Baroc and his group of warriors waited long into the night. They were not fools to rush in and be killed. They were the most cunning of all the Orcs, or so they thought. After all, they had not been run off like all the rest. They had remained hidden these many years, becoming more cunning and sure of themselves. They could hide before the very faces of the sharpest eyed elf, and not be seen. They had learned to control the hate breed into them by Sauron.
Baroc spat to cleanse his mouth of the name of Sauron. They were no longer the stooges of Sauron and his red eye. They bore more hate to him than any other. Now they could relive their need to kill and mutilate, their desire to hate and let anger rule, in a manner that did not make them slaves to it. Tonight, they would let hate and anger rule. Tomorrow, they would return to their home deep in the caves, and force hate to wait for the next attack. They would not destroy themselves as the Uruk-hai and the Northern Orcs had.
Baroc could wait no longer. The fire had died down to coals, and only one sleepy guard remained awake. He signaled to his people, and the Orcs jumped from their hiding places. A sickening, growling wail escaped from the throats of the Orcs they slashed at the unsuspecting elves.
Mayhem ruled. And Baroc loved every minute of it.