Fate's Paths

by Alenor Peredhel

REVISED and EDITED....When Elrond's adopted daughter of 16 learns a fragment of her lost heirtage and past, she soon discovers that Rivendell's walls do not hold the entire story of what was lost and she strikes out on her own to find what was forgotten.

1. Edited Prologue

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED/EDITED-Fate's Paths-Prologue-

The Past haunts me every night, teasing me with the last living memory of my mother. I can still hear her voice, speaking to me in the stifling darkness as unfamiliar woodland animals sounded their own loud voices, frightening me further. But her soft soothing words of fantasy creatures eased away my hidden tears and whimpers of fright. She sat there, in the protruding roots of a great tree, holding my tiny hands within hers. I can still clearly hear the quiet fearfulness of my voice as I questioned her stories.

I can still remember the ragged draw of breath as my mother forced her lips to move so she could speak. It was a raggedness she assured was due to her tiredness from the perilously dangerous events of the day. The innocence of my mind couldn't comprehend then that the unevenness was due to her life slowly creeping away with her lifeblood as it seeped onto the red-soaked leaves beside her.

And I can still remember, waking up the following morning, still wrapped tightly in her arms and how she would not tell me more stories when I begged her for them. She was cold, unmoving but I was insistent that she was merely asleep, and so lay there unmoving, so that I would not startle her. When evening stretched overhead and she did not awake and my hunger and thirst grew, I grew frantic. Locked in her arms, unable to free myself-unwilling to even try- I begged her to awaken; there was no answer.

The son's of Elrond found me three days later, terrified, cold, tired, soaked and confused as to why my mother was ignoring me.

I can still remember the pain of confusion, as one of the twins gently lifted my tiny body into his warm sheltering arms. I could not understand then, even when they told me she would not wake up, that she was truly gone. I refused to believe it for many months to come. I refused to understand but when I could deny it no longer, it was as if all my childish walls had collapsed around me, leaving a scared unprotected girl behind.

I can still remember it all, like it happened just moments ago, as if I am still living it over and over again. But I cannot remember, all these years later, why my mother had held me in the darkness, telling me everything was alright and whispering her stories so I would not shout out our whereabouts. And though I try to remember, it causes me only grief, as if in my last attempt at innocence, my mind shut down everything but the underlying terror and the feel of a mother's last embrace.

And one question rings in my head: If I had truly understood what was happening that night, would she still be here with me?