Title: Curved Blades: Elearven's Story

Chapter: Preface

Chapter Name: Gold Tinted With Black

Setting: In a time of Lord of the Rings, approximately slightly before the making of the Fellowship and the battle for the White City.

Rating: Teenage Audience – contains death

Words: 902

Description:

They watched her flying from one spot to the next, dancing a frightening waltz of death. Quickly her eyes flashed to their motionless figures, "Run… get away from here fast…" Legalos didn't help her, he wasn't able to. How did it happen, he had lost her.

Currently everything is undergoing adjustments and is being revamped. Ideas are welcome.

Important: This chapter will be written as a futuristic vision of what is to come; the next ones will take place before this. This is because the following ones act as a lead up this event.

Pronunciation:

Elearven … Ell – Ear - Vern

Translations from the Grey Company:

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Lord of the Rings' by Tolkien nor any of the associated characters. I do, however, hold ownership and rights over any non-Tolkien characters, plots, settings and complications.

Enjoy...

. . .

Deepest dark, merest light

From the one and the same awakening

Cunning was the plan of Morgoth

Those foolish did all the work

He came and culled the harvest

Bred the fruits for his purpose

Unaware folk of the stars

Forced into wounds and dreadful scars

To raid the lands under his summons

Destroy the race that they once were…

~ 'Battlelore', a tale of the origin of Orcs

. . .

Elearven's bow snapped back by the force of the arrow, its silver tip heading straight into the back of a neighbouring Orc. A perfect shot; the creature fell forward, its blood mixing with the dirt and staining the earth black. But there was no recovery for the young female, more and more Orc's had started pouring in from the sides. The air filled with the scent of sweat, blood and death; twirling around she stuck her blade into the chest of another… There was no room to move.

Off to the side watching, two hobbits, their wrists chaffed by broken ropes lay frozen at the scene before them. Both too terrified to move, all joints of theirs had seized up. Expressions of horror crowned their faces as they watch one of the most beautiful elves fighting, fighting for their lives.

Blood drenched her body, a mix of black and silver and her bow sang its own deathly song. As if in slow motion, they followed her figure flying from one spot to the next, dancing a frightening waltz for death. Quickly her eyes flashed to their motionless figures, "Run… get away from here fast. You have your chance now so don't miss it…"

Perspiration dripped from her brow, tracing her soft features. Pieces of ebony hair clung to her face and boots stood upon the bodies of the ones she had killed. Eyes, flashing of gold and weariness watched as both little men blinked in recognition. There wasn't much time left and their gap to escape was quickly closing, they needed to move faster. "Hurry, now little ones, fly quickly. Into the forest my friends and hide; do not wait for me for I know that I shall not join you."

Panting in between breathes, she sighed in relief as they scrambled to their feet. "What do you mean?" Pippin questioned over the loud scramble of feet and clashes of swords. Slowly he took a small step towards the throngs of danger; as he did one of the fighting Orcs glanced and came hither to him. Fear blossomed across Pippin's features as he scrambled back in hope of reaching the forest.

Raising its gnarled hand, a dagger gleamed in the dusky moonlight. Pippins eyes widened with fright for what was about to happen, he wouldn't get away fast enough. Somewhere behind the Orc, a shout could barely be heard. It seemed as if the whole world had slowed down, erasing all sounds of fighting and images of his surroundings. The knife leered upward, the crude blade blinking with specks of blackened blood, both old and new. This creature was accustomed to killing.

A high pitched wailing sounded somewhere to Pippins right as the knife made its downward fall. But, hands suddenly grabbed his under the arms dragging him out of reach and into the forests edge. Merry had found him again. Both hobbits watched as the dagger made contact with the ground, the same place only milliseconds ago Pippin had lain. Quickly, the face of the Orc contorted from its cruel smirk to a grimace of pain as its lifeless body fell forward, one of Elearven's arrows embedded into his back.

Once again, the hobbits gaze slammed up to where their female elven friend was fighting. Arrows sashayed from her bow and curved daggers flashed in between slashes; surrounding her, fifty or more so Orcs screamed at the chance to down the graceful, deadly warrior. The hobbits last glance of her before hightailing off into the trunks of Fanghorn Forest was of one where serene peace, her fates acceptance cut across her face. They knew she had made her decision, she would stay allowing them time to live.

No one could stop her, she fought for their lives; no one could kill her yet, too many of her friends had already died tonight. Elearven knew the price she would pay for Merry and Pippin's freedom, a price she would all too willingly pay for them.

"Aragon… Merry, Pipping, Gimly, Gandalf… Legalos, please forgive me…" She whispered, her breath coming out in harsh gasps. Too many wounds she had suffered would prevent her from living; the Valar would welcome her into their halls.

Bodies littered the surrounding ground as she dropped both bow and sword at her feet. Everything felt cold; only elves with the taste of death on their tongue could feel it. Tears streaked down her face and Eleaven's knees gave way. Crumpling to the ground, she lay upon the soiled ground, her golden blood mingling with her enemies.

"I am sorry…"

. . .

"I am sorry…"

Eleaven's last words carried on the wind to the small party chasing the once living hoard of Orcs. Shock graced down all three spines before reality set in. "No…" Legalos' words whispered past pale lips. "No, no, no, no… No!" he screamed to the rocky hill tops.

Shudders of horror rolled through the Dwarf Master Gimli and shock froze all the limbs of Aragon, Strider and King of Man. Though none so affected as was Legalos, Prince and Future King of Mirkwood.

"She cannot be lad, she cannot be. There is no way of knowing…" Gimli muttered more to himself them the others. "We… we have to hurry and see, hurry. She cannot be…"

His voice drifted off in the wind as the party was left standing there, unsure of what to do.

. . .

"I am sorry…"

Two hobbits cuddled closer together in the branches of an old tree as their tears streaked down dirty faces. Each holding the others hand for comfort and support, grief holding the fear of the outside forest at bay.

The woods creaked and groaned around them whilst the wind whistled through the trees crumples branches above. "I am sorry…" "I am sorry…"

Everyone wept; this was not meant to happen.

"I am sorry…"

. . .

Well this is the preview/preface of my oncoming story, everything has been rewritten now and the whole story will continue to be updated.

Regards,

The Hooded Falcon