And here's the start to my long thought of Lord of the Rings story. This has been in the back of my mind for a long time. I don't know why it's taken so long to get down, probably my fear of flames, since I've gotten some pretty rude ones on other stories. I swear if you don't like a story then don't read it and say that it's horrible and that it shouldn't have even been written. There are other people that appreciate the story greatly and if they like it then who is ranked enough to say that it shouldn't have been written. I'll stop before I get into one of my philosophizing moods.
I'm a huge lover of 10th walker fics and legomances, and I'm not actually sure if this will be completely either. Most LotR fans know that the first orcs were tortured elves. I found myself wondering what one would be like if it was never fully tortured or, shall we say, finished. So this is my story about a female elf that wasn't completed in her transformation to becoming an orc.
I accept constructive criticism, but please no flames. And reviewers please don't say it's constructive if it's a really long review that just explains how much someone doesn't agree with my idea or that it wouldn't be possible for some of the events to happen. In writing anything can happen and remember that this is my story to play around and have fun with. Now instead of sounding all stuck up I'll get to writing and, yes, this will have my personal touch of making it seem like there is humor in everything, no matter how serious something should be.
Signing off, Tora Delerium!
Chapter One
The sky was so clear that no one would even stop to think that it was possible for it to be dark in other places. Water was flowing, sparkling, and clean through the cracks of Middle Earth with the peace that was precious to so many. For a moment the dark hawk let a small rabbit be, simply because it did not feel the need to prey upon the clueless creature. The grass waved gently as the wind blew against it in an unseen caress. Moments like these are so lost that it is rare for anyone besides Mother Nature to witness them anymore.
Some thing happen, then, that Mother Nature does not intend, ruining all chance of pause during dark times. The harshness of reality beats down the doorway and stops the peace to remind all that there is no peace while He is still there, while the decay of humanity still flaunts, while the circle of life is still turning.
Maybe that is why during the moment that the grass waved and the water flowed swiftly, and the sky was clear and the hawk didn't kill that one thin arrow with adorned with dark green feathers chose to imbed itself in the heart of the same rabbit that had just been left by the hawk. Perhaps that is just the way of things.
Only a hundred yards away a lithe figure rose from the cover of foliage surrounding the river to collect its prize. From a distance one could not tell if the figure was male or female, but from the way it glided towards the fallen rabbit it was easy enough to tell that it was one of the Eldar; an elf. When it neared the carcass certain features gave away the gender.
She smiled at the small rabbit and slung it over shoulder, careful to keep any of its blood from getting in her dark hair, though, her hair was nearly the shade of dried blood. It had been stained that color, but not from any animal that she hunted.
They had come with fire and crude weapons that had been mangled by time with rust. Thalithien remembered it well, mostly because it was the last time she was wholly and purely an elf. She had been in the company of other Lorien elves when a band of orcs had ambushed them and the ones that were not killed were brought back to Mordor for a fate worse than death. Some died in the process, others were forced to change against their will. Malice for their ow kind grew as they became deformities of elves and only carried visions of what their perfections used to be. Rage over the fact that no one came to get them. It didn't matter that it took time for their home lands to receive news of their capture, only that there was no attempt to save them, that they knew of. A steady hate and jealousy of their own kind grew with every passing day that they lost a bit of their grace.
By some fate, whether cruel or kind, Thalithien escaped the torture that had been taking part on her. She wasn't even sure how it had all happened; she only remembered that it was loud and they were fighting about something. Her bonds had been undone and they were moving her, but they never reached the chamber they left the other elves in. They weren't even elves now. They were elves that were slowly transforming into orcs. Through screams their voices changed into ragged harsh sounds and animalistic screeches and growls, the foods they once enjoyed grew to be a disdainful mouthful on their tongues, and teeth that were once straight and white turned grey and the two canines sharpened in painful points. The hair had been the most drastic change for her. It had been a flaxen blonde that fell to her waist in waves and now it was stained so dark from her torture that it appeared black and hewed off to her chin. The golden flecks she had in her blue eyes took on the dark bloody color also. She and the rest of the elves grew thin from lack of food and parched from little water.
The slow decay of time made their minds fill with the darkness of the land and the hatred that orcs had against men and elves. She was alone when she escaped, alone when they fought and lost her, and alone when she traveled. The orcs in their foulness kept the elves near the bottom of the tower of Barad-dur, never thinking that they could escape. Thalithien had only to walk away from her torturers, as they fought among themselves, and escape into the ravines that surrounded the place she had been kept for years. Time had become unimportant at that point. She just kept walking towards the caves. The skills of the elves came back naturally when she found herself in the wild, but once the shadow that hid the sun from her lifted she knew that she was no longer a true elf. Her hair was dark, her two canines sharp, her nails sharp, and her eyes no longer held their light gold flecks.
She had stared into her reflection in a river one night and all she could do was cry. Her ears were pierced many times by rusted metal and her body was covered in wounds that even she could not remember receiving. She was not an orc, but she was not and elf. She was something caught in between and she was alone.
It was hard to continue on once she realized how much she had changed, but in her gut something was telling her to get to Lothlorien. Food and water came at the same amounts it had while she was still within Mordor, but when she ate the things that she would commonly be fond of were dry and hard to chew and swallow. When she did arrive under the trees of the Golden Wood it was not as beautiful as she wished to find it. It was bright to her eyes and threatening instead of welcoming.
The Marchwarden, with the company of elves that stopped her once she entered, was hesitant to let her continue until the Lady of the Wood told him to let her pass and receive care from the healers. Thalithien cried. Haldir, the Marchwarden had been a dear friend to her before she left and he could not recognize her any longer. None of the elves could. The only one that did not treat her like a stranger was the Lady Galadriel. While Thalithien was no longer herself on the outside she had traces of what she once was on the inside.
Both realized that she couldn't stay within the woods because of the evil that dwelled within her spirit. While she stayed for a long period to heal noting could return her to the state she had been in before she left. He wounds healed and she became accustomed to the light once more, but her teeth remained sharp and her hair grew out only to remain it's dark color. The taste of clean food slowly came back to her, but only to an extent. She couldn't eat fully cooked meat, the elvish bread tasted stale, and Eldar wines and juices only made her thirst for more, as if she couldn't hydrate herself.
Galadriel had been kind longer than the elves of Lorien liked. She spent the time she could helping Thalithien as much as she could. Even though her mirror told her that the elleth would never heal fully she tried harder. It was evident that Thalithien wouldn't die of grief and despair from her capture, but if the elves continued to refuse her she eventually would from lack of ties to Middle Earth. Thalithien decided that it was her time to leave Lothlorien to find her own ground to live upon. The elves wouldn't accept her as one of their own and even her passage was denied to the West. Though, she had healed and returned to the light her hair proved that she was once guided by the Dark Lord.
As custom in the elves, upon her departure she received farewell gifts. Celeborn granted her weapons; a bow with a quiver of arrows and a sword. Haldir found guilt in not remember her and he gave her cloak with a mallorn leaf broach. The most precious gift came from Galadriel. She gifted Thalithien with a name. She was no longer Thalithien, a fair maiden of Lothlorien, but Estelwen, Maiden of Hope. it took her a few moments to realize why Galadriel would name her such. The torture that she endured was something that elves would commonly fade from after going through, but she managed to hold on to the hope that the elves could heal her. She was a sign of hope in Galadriel's eyes; one that she knew would be a beacon to those in need of faith.
And so she became Estelwen, half elven.
This is where I shall end this chapter, for it is way late in the night and I need sleep and I also lost track of what I was writing. Hopefully I will update soon. I have other fics that need to be updated too and school is a major bump on my back. As always I love all my reviewers, but if I get a flame on how this is impossible I really want that person to thik of the fact that this is my imagination and that I'm writing this for a different twist on things and also that it is my story to screw with as I please. Thank you again. And I love Dreamstrifer!