1 Light Upon the Shadows of Death
Hello readers (if there are any). I am or rather I have just become a LOTR fan so I started this fanfic about well, Middle Earth. It's nothing about Frodo and the ring and how it got to Mordor and stuff like that. It's basically another side of the story, based on the strange life of Cilanthiel and her experiences with the War of the Ring and Sauron. This chapter's quite short because it's just kind of just a start and background to begin it all. The Eryn Fernathlië (WinterLost forests) is a place I made up near Mirkwood and Lorien, by the way. So, please read and review! Thanks
1.1 Misfortunes Outnumber Hopes
The loud splattering rain outside, disrupted now and then by the monstrous bolt of lightning that peirced the heavy night sky, sounded, never-tiring through the before dry but now moist, Wilderlands on this dreary moon-less eve. Two crouching figures nevertheless sprinted up the slippery rocks, over the flooding streams, and beneath the shapeless shadow of the leaf- less trees, heedless of the storm around them.
"Is Cilanthiel alright?" one of the figures whispered to the other between breathless pants, slowing down his pace to peer over the small bundle the latter carried. This voice belonged to a young man with a blaze in his gray-ish blue eyes and a kingly manner about his fair face. Danéthil, they liked to call him back in the land of Gondor, though he holds royal blood, from the long-gone Numeronean kings.
"Worry not Danéthil, she sleeps on like there is no trouble" the soft voice of a fair-haired, green-eyed lady rang out like a song from beneath the cloak that hid her beautiful face.
"That is of great comfort Jenaya, we must make haste before the Orcs are fresh on our trail." He quicked his pace once again.
"Luinnath nevalin ú estel cheb v'anim, Misfortunes outnumber the hopes I have in myself" Jenaya said sadly, falling into her own elven-tongue. She grasped the bundle of cloak tightly as she ran on with weary feet. They hurried on in the noisy yet silent darkness. The Wilderland, slowly passed in a blur of dull colors and they reached the west edge of Mirkwood.
"Ai, it is good to recognize the fresh scent of Eryn Lasgalen, even in the rain." Jenaya said, heart slightly less heavy. She suddenly paused and looked around, peering through the darkness, keen elven eyes trying to peirce the night. "It is too silent. Do the elves know not that we are come?"
Danéthil looked at the star-less sky and said, "Dark are the days, and messages are apt to be intercepted."
"But surely Galadriel knows?" his wife pressed on worridley.
"She may, she may not, but she is least likely in Lorien at this time."
Jenaya said no more and continued on their way. When midnight passed and still no moon shone out from the columbustious black clouds, the couple came suddenly to a stop by a small faded bridge over a rippling stream, where Elven-Children used to play, but now is left alone and forgotten.
"What is the matter Jenaya? Why did you stop?" Danéthil asked in an urgent but concerned voice. He studied his wife's wet and forlong face and saw that it was troubled. But which face was not troubled in those days?
"They are coming Danéthil." She replied, and her green eyes met his blue ones. "I hear them. Orcs, less than 100 leagues away, accompanied by the Riders. They have business in Rhovanion, and finding us here would only increase their pleasure."
Danéthil made no reply immediately, but took the bundle from his wife's arms and wrapped it beneath his elven-cloak. Finally, he turned to her. "Jenaya, we must hurry. We can still make it to Ford of Mirkwood." They took off once again. Shouts could now be heard behind them, and the distuishable language of the Orcs floated like a horde of unwelcome bees past Jenaya's keen ears. They ran on, darting behind the few rocks and trees, not having the time to look back to see whether they were pursued or not. But suddenly, Jenaya gave a soft cry. Her light, elven feet had given away and her left foot was wedged painfully between two roots, outgrown and branching out onto the open path. She stumbled and fell, but nevertheless trying to pry herself away—she was out in the open with no trees to hide her, only the darkness that would soon be peirced by the cursed fire light of the orcs. Danéthil stopped in his tracks and hurried back to his wife. The noises behind them grew.
"Nal'enn Danéthil!" she cried, blood gushing freely from her burdensome feet. "Go with Cilanthiel, nal'enn!"
"Vin, if we are doomed to die then it must be with the both of us." He replied, face showing no sign of fear in the dark. Yet, tears leaked slowly out of Jenaya's eyes as she unclasped from her neck a beautiful silver chain, a small, bright and carefully-carved pendant hanging from it. She hung it around the baby's neck.
"Hide her amongst the trees now Danéthil, that is where I put my trust to most." She said, wiping her wet face with a torn sleeve. Danéthil carried the bundle to a grand birch tree quickly and placed it on the damp ground beneath it, removing his cloak to shield the baby from rain. He gazed at it for a moment, as it lay there peacefully, not paying attention to the troubled world around them. Sighing sadly, he hurried back to his wife and drew out his sword along the way. The sounds drew closer, evil fire light was shimmering through the leaves. He stood up straight, valiant and tall.
"Silivren-anim, Danéthil." Jenaya whispered. "I am sorry."
"Silivren-anim yinal" Danéthil retured, eyes fixed in the direction of his doom, fate settled, death arranged.
* * *
A tall, eldery witch walked into a splendid hall in the City of Trees, carrying a basket and accompanied by two very grave-looking elves. Grendalin she was called, the forgotten sister of Gandalf Stormcrow, and she always seemed to bring about unexpected news to different lands around Middle Earth. Grendalin lived alone in the woods of Lothlorien and was only comissioned there by leave of Galadriel—and that was whom she intended to see that particular day. The Elves led her into a very high and magnificent chamber, full of beautiful elven-carvings on the pale marble walls and the great pillars. At the far end, accompanied by her elven ladies-in-waiting brushing her long, golden hair, was Galadriel Evenstar. She looked up slowly from her sheet of wavy locks, blue eyes full of the wisdom of the years.
"Good morning Grendalin." She said, and her voice rang out like a silver ripple through the chamber.
"Greetings to you, Lady Galadriel." Grendalin returned, bending her old waist slightly. "I, er, would like to speak to you alone….if I may."
"Westa limath," Galadriel said lightly to her servants and the two elves next to the witch, who gave Grendalin a bit of a warning look before departing. "Sit my friend and begin your tale."
"I thank you but I prefer to stand at this moment now."
"Very well then, begin."
Grendalin sighed before starting. "Yestereve, on my way past the borders of MirkWood, I came upon this child." She opened the basket and behold! There lay Cilanthiel, still peacefully sound-asleep. Galadriel made no comment but nodded slowly at the sight of the baby. Grendalin continued. "She was hidden away beneath a bush under a large birch tree and I would have passed save I heard gentle cries. Not many yards before her, I came upon ashes—orc ashes, torches with burned out fire and a few slewn orc bodies. On the ground beside those was this," She drew out a long and strangely bright sword, long-forgotten characters written on the beautiful silver handle. Galadriel looked at it with piercing eyes and nodded once again, in much understanding. Grendalin put it away, watching the elf-lady's face very carefully. "Also, on the baby girl, there is a silver necklace which you should recognize at first sight. That was all I found but somehow they shoud all relate to one another in some way, lest I am wrong and is come here in vain."
Galadriel made no reply immediately but held Grendalin long in her piercing gaze. She walked forward a few steps and lifted the baby out of the basket with care, caressing her in her arms.
"This is no ordinary child Grendalin, though I am certain you thought not so before." She said grimly. "I know you are guessing who it is and I see no need to rectify you. It is indeed Cilanthiel Runadenn, daughter of Danéthil and Jenaya."
"Poor child…." Grendalin murmured, eyes fixed on the baby. "But what shall we do with her? How did her parents die?" Galadriel gave a soft, sad sigh and placed her back inside the basket.
"It is unwise to keep her here in the Lothlorién. She will draw attention unecissarily and too much revealed is fatal to her. Cilanthiel should not know about anything yet. Keep the necklace and the sword and anything else. She will stay with you in the deep woods of Eryn Fernathlië (WinterLost forests) where no elves or any man who walk on Middle-earth shall pass and there you will train her everything she needs to know. I will send guards to keep watch hidden amongst the trees, so worry not on protection. Do not utter her name to anyone, address her in a new name. I hope you are willing Grendalin because you are the only person trust and see fit for this duty."
"I will be obliged to do so my Lady." Grendalin said, this time bowing deeper. Galadriel smiled a happy, yet full of sadness smile that brought both and joy into the witch's heart.
"Each in his own time Grendalin." Galadriel said softly. "She shall know one day, she shall come to understand."
Long afterwards that day, some said everything was a coincidence, most said it was simply fate the led them. But whether it was coincidence or fate, the destiny of a young girl was clearly planned out long before the witch and Cilanthiel took of together down the winding road out of the place of Galadriel and into the forests of Lothlorién.
Okay so I end the first chapter here. It's a bit sudden I know, the beginning and the end of this chap. But that's as short/long as I'd like it to be, not going TOO much into the detail (most of it I'm planning ot reveal later on in the story) and not leaving readers TOO clueless. If you're wondering why orcs were on the trail of Cilanthiel's parents, you'll find out sooner or later, though I'm still deciding whether I should continue or not. Please review and tell me! ^_^
Hello readers (if there are any). I am or rather I have just become a LOTR fan so I started this fanfic about well, Middle Earth. It's nothing about Frodo and the ring and how it got to Mordor and stuff like that. It's basically another side of the story, based on the strange life of Cilanthiel and her experiences with the War of the Ring and Sauron. This chapter's quite short because it's just kind of just a start and background to begin it all. The Eryn Fernathlië (WinterLost forests) is a place I made up near Mirkwood and Lorien, by the way. So, please read and review! Thanks
1.1 Misfortunes Outnumber Hopes
The loud splattering rain outside, disrupted now and then by the monstrous bolt of lightning that peirced the heavy night sky, sounded, never-tiring through the before dry but now moist, Wilderlands on this dreary moon-less eve. Two crouching figures nevertheless sprinted up the slippery rocks, over the flooding streams, and beneath the shapeless shadow of the leaf- less trees, heedless of the storm around them.
"Is Cilanthiel alright?" one of the figures whispered to the other between breathless pants, slowing down his pace to peer over the small bundle the latter carried. This voice belonged to a young man with a blaze in his gray-ish blue eyes and a kingly manner about his fair face. Danéthil, they liked to call him back in the land of Gondor, though he holds royal blood, from the long-gone Numeronean kings.
"Worry not Danéthil, she sleeps on like there is no trouble" the soft voice of a fair-haired, green-eyed lady rang out like a song from beneath the cloak that hid her beautiful face.
"That is of great comfort Jenaya, we must make haste before the Orcs are fresh on our trail." He quicked his pace once again.
"Luinnath nevalin ú estel cheb v'anim, Misfortunes outnumber the hopes I have in myself" Jenaya said sadly, falling into her own elven-tongue. She grasped the bundle of cloak tightly as she ran on with weary feet. They hurried on in the noisy yet silent darkness. The Wilderland, slowly passed in a blur of dull colors and they reached the west edge of Mirkwood.
"Ai, it is good to recognize the fresh scent of Eryn Lasgalen, even in the rain." Jenaya said, heart slightly less heavy. She suddenly paused and looked around, peering through the darkness, keen elven eyes trying to peirce the night. "It is too silent. Do the elves know not that we are come?"
Danéthil looked at the star-less sky and said, "Dark are the days, and messages are apt to be intercepted."
"But surely Galadriel knows?" his wife pressed on worridley.
"She may, she may not, but she is least likely in Lorien at this time."
Jenaya said no more and continued on their way. When midnight passed and still no moon shone out from the columbustious black clouds, the couple came suddenly to a stop by a small faded bridge over a rippling stream, where Elven-Children used to play, but now is left alone and forgotten.
"What is the matter Jenaya? Why did you stop?" Danéthil asked in an urgent but concerned voice. He studied his wife's wet and forlong face and saw that it was troubled. But which face was not troubled in those days?
"They are coming Danéthil." She replied, and her green eyes met his blue ones. "I hear them. Orcs, less than 100 leagues away, accompanied by the Riders. They have business in Rhovanion, and finding us here would only increase their pleasure."
Danéthil made no reply immediately, but took the bundle from his wife's arms and wrapped it beneath his elven-cloak. Finally, he turned to her. "Jenaya, we must hurry. We can still make it to Ford of Mirkwood." They took off once again. Shouts could now be heard behind them, and the distuishable language of the Orcs floated like a horde of unwelcome bees past Jenaya's keen ears. They ran on, darting behind the few rocks and trees, not having the time to look back to see whether they were pursued or not. But suddenly, Jenaya gave a soft cry. Her light, elven feet had given away and her left foot was wedged painfully between two roots, outgrown and branching out onto the open path. She stumbled and fell, but nevertheless trying to pry herself away—she was out in the open with no trees to hide her, only the darkness that would soon be peirced by the cursed fire light of the orcs. Danéthil stopped in his tracks and hurried back to his wife. The noises behind them grew.
"Nal'enn Danéthil!" she cried, blood gushing freely from her burdensome feet. "Go with Cilanthiel, nal'enn!"
"Vin, if we are doomed to die then it must be with the both of us." He replied, face showing no sign of fear in the dark. Yet, tears leaked slowly out of Jenaya's eyes as she unclasped from her neck a beautiful silver chain, a small, bright and carefully-carved pendant hanging from it. She hung it around the baby's neck.
"Hide her amongst the trees now Danéthil, that is where I put my trust to most." She said, wiping her wet face with a torn sleeve. Danéthil carried the bundle to a grand birch tree quickly and placed it on the damp ground beneath it, removing his cloak to shield the baby from rain. He gazed at it for a moment, as it lay there peacefully, not paying attention to the troubled world around them. Sighing sadly, he hurried back to his wife and drew out his sword along the way. The sounds drew closer, evil fire light was shimmering through the leaves. He stood up straight, valiant and tall.
"Silivren-anim, Danéthil." Jenaya whispered. "I am sorry."
"Silivren-anim yinal" Danéthil retured, eyes fixed in the direction of his doom, fate settled, death arranged.
* * *
A tall, eldery witch walked into a splendid hall in the City of Trees, carrying a basket and accompanied by two very grave-looking elves. Grendalin she was called, the forgotten sister of Gandalf Stormcrow, and she always seemed to bring about unexpected news to different lands around Middle Earth. Grendalin lived alone in the woods of Lothlorien and was only comissioned there by leave of Galadriel—and that was whom she intended to see that particular day. The Elves led her into a very high and magnificent chamber, full of beautiful elven-carvings on the pale marble walls and the great pillars. At the far end, accompanied by her elven ladies-in-waiting brushing her long, golden hair, was Galadriel Evenstar. She looked up slowly from her sheet of wavy locks, blue eyes full of the wisdom of the years.
"Good morning Grendalin." She said, and her voice rang out like a silver ripple through the chamber.
"Greetings to you, Lady Galadriel." Grendalin returned, bending her old waist slightly. "I, er, would like to speak to you alone….if I may."
"Westa limath," Galadriel said lightly to her servants and the two elves next to the witch, who gave Grendalin a bit of a warning look before departing. "Sit my friend and begin your tale."
"I thank you but I prefer to stand at this moment now."
"Very well then, begin."
Grendalin sighed before starting. "Yestereve, on my way past the borders of MirkWood, I came upon this child." She opened the basket and behold! There lay Cilanthiel, still peacefully sound-asleep. Galadriel made no comment but nodded slowly at the sight of the baby. Grendalin continued. "She was hidden away beneath a bush under a large birch tree and I would have passed save I heard gentle cries. Not many yards before her, I came upon ashes—orc ashes, torches with burned out fire and a few slewn orc bodies. On the ground beside those was this," She drew out a long and strangely bright sword, long-forgotten characters written on the beautiful silver handle. Galadriel looked at it with piercing eyes and nodded once again, in much understanding. Grendalin put it away, watching the elf-lady's face very carefully. "Also, on the baby girl, there is a silver necklace which you should recognize at first sight. That was all I found but somehow they shoud all relate to one another in some way, lest I am wrong and is come here in vain."
Galadriel made no reply immediately but held Grendalin long in her piercing gaze. She walked forward a few steps and lifted the baby out of the basket with care, caressing her in her arms.
"This is no ordinary child Grendalin, though I am certain you thought not so before." She said grimly. "I know you are guessing who it is and I see no need to rectify you. It is indeed Cilanthiel Runadenn, daughter of Danéthil and Jenaya."
"Poor child…." Grendalin murmured, eyes fixed on the baby. "But what shall we do with her? How did her parents die?" Galadriel gave a soft, sad sigh and placed her back inside the basket.
"It is unwise to keep her here in the Lothlorién. She will draw attention unecissarily and too much revealed is fatal to her. Cilanthiel should not know about anything yet. Keep the necklace and the sword and anything else. She will stay with you in the deep woods of Eryn Fernathlië (WinterLost forests) where no elves or any man who walk on Middle-earth shall pass and there you will train her everything she needs to know. I will send guards to keep watch hidden amongst the trees, so worry not on protection. Do not utter her name to anyone, address her in a new name. I hope you are willing Grendalin because you are the only person trust and see fit for this duty."
"I will be obliged to do so my Lady." Grendalin said, this time bowing deeper. Galadriel smiled a happy, yet full of sadness smile that brought both and joy into the witch's heart.
"Each in his own time Grendalin." Galadriel said softly. "She shall know one day, she shall come to understand."
Long afterwards that day, some said everything was a coincidence, most said it was simply fate the led them. But whether it was coincidence or fate, the destiny of a young girl was clearly planned out long before the witch and Cilanthiel took of together down the winding road out of the place of Galadriel and into the forests of Lothlorién.
Okay so I end the first chapter here. It's a bit sudden I know, the beginning and the end of this chap. But that's as short/long as I'd like it to be, not going TOO much into the detail (most of it I'm planning ot reveal later on in the story) and not leaving readers TOO clueless. If you're wondering why orcs were on the trail of Cilanthiel's parents, you'll find out sooner or later, though I'm still deciding whether I should continue or not. Please review and tell me! ^_^