And here's the other story I've been meaning to post for a while. This is another one I have a fair amount of prewritten, so that means steady updates!
This also happens to be my first Lord of the Rings fanfic. I'm excited and I'm also a little nervous, simply because there was SO MUCH research and I'm crossing my fingers I got it right.
The disclaimer: I just own my OC, not LOTR.
One last thing! If you've read any of my previous stuff you know how much I love hearing from my readers. If you haven't, well now you know! So drop by and let me know what you think of this in a review (or PM, if that's your style).
Enjoy!
Prologue
Fire. Fire and smoke and the ashes of corpses and the stench of rotting flesh. These were the things Celine remembered. She lay awake, gazing at the stars as the night dragged on. She had been traveling on foot for many weeks now, and was nearing the Gap of Rohan. Sleepless nights were no stranger to her, and tonight was no different.
'I have not slept through the night in years,' she thinks to herself.
She would have lain there for many hours more, until the sun broke over the horizon, were it not for the pounding of a horse's hooves that startle her from her sleepless rest. In an instant, she is on her feet with her hand on the hilt of her sword. And she waits.
The galloping animal draws closer to her by the second, and she crouches with all the patience of a hunter. Nine riders in black had passed her by not a day ago, and she had held her breath at the stale stench of death that they left in their wake. They had ridden on as if they'd not seen her, but she has been on her guard ever since. Their evil is familiar to her. A Nazgul and its rider had been the ruin of her home, long ago.
Celine shakes off the memories and draws her sword with the stealth of a cat. The silver blade glints in the light of the midday sun, and the sight stills her into the calm focus that comes just before battle.
She's more than surprised to see the Grey Pilgrim riding toward her when she peeks out from the underbrush that hides her. He rides with a desperation she has yet to see from him in all the years she's known him.
Celine stands and makes her presence known.
"Mithrandir!"
The wizard slows his horse and skids to a stop right next to her.
"Celine! You have traveled far since last I saw you." His greeting is distracted, and she stuffs formalities.
"What has you riding like the very devil is on your heels?"
"The fire that consumed your home is poised to take all of Middle Earth," he answers, his horse prancing with impatience.
His gaze sweeps over her, appraising her, and instantly she knows there is something he wishes her to do.
"What would you have me do?"
"Travel to the Shire with all haste, to the Brandywine River. Find the two hobbits Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee. See that they arrive at the Inn of the Prancing Pony safely."
Celine takes in the frantic worry creased on Gandalf's brow, the urgency of his tone, and the impatience that makes him shift in the saddle. But there's more, she can see the shadow of fear in his old eyes.
"What follows them?"
"The Nine."
Celine's breath catches in her throat. The hobbits stand no chance; their race was one of innocence and smiles and earthy comforts, not of stealth and war.
"I will get them to Bree, and if they have need of me after I will aid them as far as necessary."
"Thank you, Celine," Gandalf sighs, as if the weight of the darkening world is on his shoulders. And perhaps it is.
"Forgive me, Mithrandir, but why do the Nine hunt them?"
"You have heard the tales of Isildur's Bane?"
"I have," she answers cautiously. "The ring?"
Gandalf looks so old, so tired. She remembers when he told her of his battle at Dol Guldur not so long ago, how just telling the tale exhausted him. He looks much the same now.
"Mordor has awoken, and the One Ring with it."
Celine distracts herself from her fear by pulling up her hood and readying herself to leave.
"Mordor has been awake many years now, Mithrandir." Memories of her home set ablaze, overrun by foul beasts that craved the flesh of man push at her mind as she speaks, turning her voice bitter and hard.
"The ring must be kept from the Nine at all costs. The hobbits are brave and hardy, but I fear for them."
Celine swallows her anger and slings her bag onto her back.
"They will not have the ring, nor the one who carries it. You have my word."
"Thank you, my dear." The wizard spares a moment to smile at her before urging his mount back into a gallop.
Celine watches him go until he disappears over the hill. Then she whistles to her own horse and rewards its prompt arrival with a pat on the nose. She vaults onto its back as soon as it's beside her, thankful she never bothers with saddles, and takes off for the Shire with all the speed she can muster.
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