A/N: Here you are! The real sequel to "Samwise's Tale"! I advise you to read that first if you haven't already, because many of the places and characters are the same. Otherwise, enjoy, and please review! Thank you!
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Elanor's eyes opened as the early morning sun filtered red through her
eyelids. The air was warm, even for June, and she threw the covers away
to let in a cool breeze from her open window. The delicious scent of flowers
drifted in upon the breeze, permeating every inch of the room and refreshing
Elanor even though her sleep had been long and restful. All in all, a beautiful
start to her day.
She rose slowly, taking care not to disturb her sore knee. She swung
her bare feet to the rug on the floor next to her bed, relishing the feel
of soft wool under her toes, and padded sleepily to the kitchen.
She set water on to boil for tea and puttered happily about the kitchen, singing to herself as she began breakfast. Her husband, Fastred of Greenholm, was away again on yet another extended trip to visit family, and she was alone. She was happy enough on her own, however, being a most independent type of person. It was most unusual for a hobbit, indeed, but she was Samwise Gamgee's daughter, after all; what use had she for what was considered proper after the precedent her father had set?
Her sausages were done, and so was her toast. Still humming merrily, she slide the delicious-smelling food off the pans and onto the waiting plates. Her tea water was boiling moments later, and she rummaged through several jars before she found the tea bag she wanted. She poured the hot water into her mother's antique teapot, painted sweetly with roses (of course), and turned back to the table. What she saw there made her drop the teapot.
"What on Earth---"
She had no time to scream before the black thing with the pinprick
eyes and rotting flesh was upon her. It slammed her backwards into the
wall beside the fireplace, striking her head against the stones and making
her vision go black. She cried out once as she slid down the wall, wondering
vaguely what this creature was and what it was doing in her home. As she
fell to the ground, she knocked a pan off its hook, which she grabbed in
desperation and whipped around in an attempt to defend herself.
The pan caught her attacker on the side of its misshapen head, knocking loose chunks of flesh from the skull that pattered in stinking piles upon her floor. Reeling slightly, it clapped its clawed hands over her ears, making her scream against the pain and fall retching to the floor.
Gibbering darkly to itself in a foul language, it lifted the shivering hobbit in its arms and roared in triumph. Elanor moaned again, feeling blood leak slowly from her ears and the back of her head, and tried to scream for help as she realized that the beast was about to carry her into the flames. Her cries were cut off as the creature struck her across the head one last time, leaving her senseless in its grasp. Without any more resistance, it stepped into the fire and disappeared.
The kitchen remained much as it had before; sunny, quiet, and filled with the smell of toast and sausages. The fire had burned to ash by nightfall, but Elanor had not returned.
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Queen Arwen was wandering alone in her garden at sundown. Caught there, between sun and moon, she was as lovely a vision as ever was seen on Middle-Earth. Her hair was bound in braids, her throat was clasped in jewels, and she was dressed in flowing white. Even mortal, the Evenstar was still as beautiful as the songs said she was.
Her thoughts strayed to her father as she walked. How she longed to see him again! Most bitter of all partings had been the loss of her beloved father, of having to say farewell to he she most adored, beside her own dearest husband. But Aragorn was near, though closeted away with his advisors, and her father was many lifetimes away, in the Undying Lands. Her mind was troubled by the depth of her loss, and though she did not regret her choice, she still missed her father terribly.
She reached out a delicate white hand to stroke the petals of a rose. It was smooth under her fingertips, and she was lost in sensation until the voice behind her broke into her thoughts.
"Tell me, Lady Queen...now that you are mortal, will you bleed?" She whirled around, fear rising sickly in her heart, but she could not see where the voice came from. Her eyes darted back and forth like a startled bird's, but even when the beast reared at her out of the trees she still could not fasten her gaze upon it. It was upon her before she could draw breath, and it bore her away on a bed of stinking, silent wind.
It was many hours before she was missed.