After the Beginning
-Vittaria-
Before the Sailor Senshi were reborn, there were the Nine and One- that is, the Nine Princesses and One Prince. They were born into and of Middle-Earth, unknown to Eru until She reached her 160th birthday. Together they are stronger than the Ainur...
Author's Note: If you become confused with the names used throughout the story (because I've given all the sm characters Quenya names to the best of my ability), leave your email address in a review, and I will send you a list with their Japanese names and who they are in Middle-Earth. Please review even if you don't want the list! ^_^ Domo!
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, The Book of Lost Tales, nor any other piece by JRR Tolkien. I don't own Sailor Moon or any related characters either. This is a FAN fic!
~Chapter One~
The woman that stood by the Mirror was beautiful. Adopted when she was young by Galadriel, Siringnen had some of the talents of the elf queen, but many hidden ones of her own. She often wandered nearer to the sea and other bodies of water, tilting her head to the side and listening to the water roar--as if it was talking to her. Some elves whispered that she was Ulmo's child, but these were just rumours; Siringnen was as much herself as she was the water.
Siringnen gently blew on the water of the mirror, and when the ripples cleared she saw the thing she thought of. Another young woman, unique as she, was sitting by the waters in the far cold north, with the icebergs. Siringnen smiled as the picture sank back into the bowl. She had made the Mirror of Galadriel, and was proud when she presented it to her foster mother.
"Siringnen, you will miss dinner," a soft male voice said. It was Haldir, one of Lorien's best archers. He had waited in the trees while Siringnen worked her magic; that, and it was an excuse to gape at her beauty. She was not like any maiden he'd ever seen. For starters, she didn't have the pointed ears that the elves had, though she walked with the same amount of grace and was as composed as any of them. Her wavy hair that she kept at shoulder length was a green blue that was most unusual and reminded the watcher of the sea. Her eyes were the deep blue of the far off ocean. All said and done, she was different than any other creature, but just as lovely.
"Thank you, Haldir, for fetching me." Siringnen smiled and walked to the elf. "Shall we go?"
~*~
"A challenge to see which one of these men will become my guard?" Boromir repeated back at his father curiously.
"Faramir is needed elsewhere, and you two can no longer go galloping about with only each other for protection. These men are good soldiers, and have sworn an oath that if they win, they will guard you with your life. Think about it," Denethor prompted. Boromir gazed about the room, taking in the appearance of the men. Most were dark-haired, few were light, and there were even a few that were dark-skinned. But one man standing in the back, who was fairly tall, was cloaked and hooded. "Stranger, uncloak yourself," he ordered. All eyes turned toward the stranger, who reluctantly pulled his hood back. He was actually a woman! Long dark brown hair was pulled back with a green string, and leaf-green eyes danced with mirth. Whispers raced through the crowd, and Denethor's brow furrowed. "This is no place for a female, young lady."
The woman, who had been pushed to the front of the crowd by the men, bowed slightly at the waist. "I am no Lady, my lord. I am but Taurelote, a warrior wanting to test her skills." There was a collective laugh at this statement, but Taurelote's face was completely serious.
"The position as bodyguard to my son is not one for a woman. Leave--"
"Wait, Father." Boromir interrupted. He had been observing the woman, and thought that maybe, maybe, this woman could do a man's job. Besides, she gave her name in another language, maybe Elvish? "If she is foolish enough to think that she can fight like a man, let her enter the competition. She will rethink her life path when she is beaten."
Denethor gave his son a long glance. "It is to be your competition. So be it."
Taurelote's face had remained impassive as they'd talked. Now she smirked, with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
~*~
Carnellach frowned and gazed about her room. It was a small two-room apartment above an old lady's house. She had rented it just yesterday without seeing it. Now she wished she'd taken a look. First, she threw open the shutters and let the early fall breeze air out the room. Then she cleaned the fireplace and arranged the wood there neatly, like it was at her old home. Now she could go back outside and get what few possessions she had brought.
Two trunks- two trunks were all the things she took from her old home, in Corsairs. It was never really a home anyhow. Nowhere would be home without the one whom they were waiting for- the princess. Maybe She wouldn't tell Carnellach if she was actually the princess, but Carnellach thought so. Even if she acted differently than what she thought she remembered. Another thing She wouldn't tell her--had she found the Prince? Carnellach sighed, and pulled her long dark hair out of her face with a ribbon. Before unpacking, she would use the afternoon's sunlight to search the flames for the prince.
~*~
Valernole, as they had named her, stood on the edge of the abyss and smiled, watching Ea's people. The Ainur did not sense her presence; neither did Eru, which the Quenta had named Iluvatar. Soon that would change- the coming war, yes, but also, the Princess's 100th birthday. She would only know her heritage if all of her guard was present. Oh yes, Valernole was counting on that fact. She had planned carefully; two of the guard knew of her, maybe three more sensed her presence. But that was all, because she was careful. Valernole wanted nothing to go wrong so she was very cautious, maybe also because she couldn't watch Ea all the time. She still had her duty, and was seldom relieved from it.
At this moment, however, a tired yet bemused smile graced her face. She knew what was most likely to happen when all of the guard was united--and most of that would happen at a time that would be most ironic. She really hoped that Eru didn't interrupt, or the Valar. Because it was really such a fragile time, the Third Age.
~*~
Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood of Lorien paused in conversing with her husband to glance worriedly at her foster daughter, Siringnen. The maiden had been tossing an apple back and forth from hand to hand for some time now, while staring off into the distance. Her Lord Celeborn caught the direction of her glance and, being closer to Siringnen, reached over and plucked the apple out of midair. When she realized she had not caught the apple, Siringnen seemed to come out of her stupor, blinking twice and looking at her hands. When she gained enough sense to look up, and saw her 'father' holding the apple and looking at her with one raised eyebrow, she had the grace to blush. The faint pink stain on the young woman's face made Galadriel sigh. The lady took the apple from her husband and offered it back to her daughter. Siringnen smiled gratefully and took it back, but did not eat it. "Mother--"
"What troubles you, Siringnen? Haldir did not say where he found you, and you have been very quiet," Galadriel told her gently. Celeborn wished that this foster child was not different, and that his wife could perceive her thoughts. It would save many emotional struggles.
Siringnen sat the apple carefully in front of her on the table. "Mother, father, I was scrying in the Mirror. And I have now located what I sought, but now I must retrieve it."
"I see no problem in this. Where is it, what will you need, and how long will you be?" Celeborn asked.
Their daughter dropped her eyes. "What I seek shall be found at the northernmost point of the Eredluin, near the Ice Bay of Forochel."
Her parents looked at one another. "So far away," Celeborn whispered.
"You know that I would not ask it if it wasn't important!" Siringnen pleaded, looking up at them.
"We know, child, we know. I allow you to go." Galadriel stated slowly. "But people will wonder why you have left."
"Oh, mother, tell them something, please? Say that, you need something from the Grey Havens, for I do plan to stop there on my way. I have my path planned out."
Celeborn was astounded. "And, pray tell, when did you start planning?"
Siringnen looked down again. "I started searching many moons ago, but just in the past few weeks have I known that what I sought was in the north. I borrowed some of your books, the ones with the old maps."
There was silence, and then Celeborn chuckled. Siringnen tore her eyes away from her lap. Galadriel had a kind smile on her face, one that matched her husband's. "We are not upset, dear one. We will gather the clothes you will need this eve. You will be going to the Grey Havens to see how many elves still bear Middle-Earth."
"And to deliver a letter to Cirdan, from me," Celeborn added. Siringnen rose to her feet to embrace the elves that had been like parents to her.
"Thank you so much, mother and father! I would like to leave in three days' time."
~*~
Dindaelome quietly slipped in the shadows of the tree as she strained her ears to hear the elvish words. Three elves and one, the Prince, stood around a tall tree, in which the creature Smeagol perched. Dindaelome, of course, thought this extremely dumb. So she was alone. She could work more quietly by herself; yet even for her effort, one of the elves looked in her direction. As his gaze passed the spot where she hid, her heart slipped out of her throat.
"My Prince, it is nearing sunlight and we daren't leave him up there. What will you have us to do?" one of the guards asked the Prince.
The hazel-eyed prince frowned. "I will return to my father. I will have to ask him what to do. Will you all stay here and guard, or shall I send one of you?"
"No, it is best that you not be out after dark in Mirkwood! We will guard," another one of the elves told him. The prince nodded and left. Dindaelome slipped silently away after him, pale purple eyes intense. She would have to be careful while following this elf; he was very swift, and she had to keep up but keep quiet. More than once Legolas turned around as he thought he heard something behind him, but dismissed it as the wind. Both times, Dindaelome grew more cautious, eventually going home before she reached the castle. She had not come this far in the spying game to be caught this far away from Hiril and the one she guarded.
~*~
Menelmir walked under the starry sky with a small host of elves, who'd volunteered to go as far as the mountain pass near the river Ringlos. The elves were headed to the Bay of Belfalas, to Umbar. Menelmir walked among them as one of them, and they were much deceived; but it was in good intention, and Menelmir spread naught but goodwill and quick smiles. Her rich blonde hair, they told her, was like the Lady Galadriel's of the Golden Wood, only threaded with sunlight. Menelmir blushed and thanked them, lifting her voice in a song with them. But soon enough the time had come for the elves and young woman to depart, and they did so with happy voices, for goodbyes are sad things. Menelmir and her white cat, Heru, walked away to the pass at Ethring, bound for the city of Pelargir. If the weather faired the same (which it should, considering it was Urime [1]), Menelmir figured she could reach Pelargir in no more than three or four days. "I hope she is not mad, and I hope Galkemen is still where I sent him," the maiden told her cat.
He meowed in a way that sounded uncannily like, 'Why wouldn't he be?'
Menelmir sighed and marched on as the sky turned gray and the sun started to rise. Hopefully she would reach Ethring before noon, to eat and sleep.
~*~
Carnellach frowned as her fire flared up, and then went out. That was a bad omen, unless... She flew to her front window and threw open the shutters. There underneath her window, a little while down the road, was a figure outlined in the rising sun. Her golden hair, and the white ball sitting on her shoulder, gave her identity away. Carnellach ran out the door and down the stairs into the street, not caring that she'd broken her normal facade as the mysterious, serious maiden. "Menelmir!"
The golden-haired figure laughed gaily and returned the embrace given. Heru had jumped off, disgruntled, but was picked up by Carnellach and almost smothered to death. "Nice to see you also, Carnellach. Shall we go...back upstairs?" The two had attracted many early eyes. The priestess led them up the stairs and back into her apartment and started making hot tea. Menelmir sank onto a floor cushion with a grateful sigh. "Aaah, sweet bliss of Valar."
"What in Eru's name brings you this far south again? You said you were going north," Carnellach demanded, hands on her hips as she waited for the water to boil over the newly lit fire.
Menelmir yawned. "Give your mistress a break, what say ye? I've been walking for three and a half days. Just to find you! No other errand. Though we will meet one along the way."
The dark-haired girl poured the water into cups and put in the tea bags. "On our way where?" she asked suspiciously, handing the blonde a cup of tea and placing a saucer of cool water out for Heru. The cat meowed its thanks.
"Oh, nowhere important. Only Minas Tirith."
There was silence.
Then...
"WHAT?!"
"SO, let me get this straight. You tell me to come north to Pelargir, and not one month later you're back and telling me to go to Minas Tirith. I hope that I am not being used for your fancy. You promised me the prince and princess, and I haven't seen either."
Carnellach ranted as just two days later, the young woman (and feline) sat out for the White City on horseback.
Menelmir sighed. "Do I look like I would walk for a week just to move you to where my fancy pleases? I could put such mundane thought into a letter and have it delivered easier. I thought you trusted me. Besides, follow me through this and accept your duty under me, or I won't let you see the Prince."
Carnellach was more alert now. "The Prince is in the White City?"
"Yes. But let no ears hear you call him that. His name is Galkemen, and he should be waiting for us there. I sent no word."
"And what of the Princess?"
Menelmir sighed again, sadder. "I.... Heru, talk to her. I want no ears hearing."
Carnellach had discovered that in the last few days, she could understand the cat as if he was saying words, though nobody else but Menelmir could hear him. Heru leapt from Menelmir's horse to her own. 'My Lady, Menelmir, is not the Princess, as you may have thought, and she encouraged that belief. She wants no trouble from Thauron, and letting him know that we have not specifically located the Princess will give him an advantage in searching. So let us lead anyone into thinking that my Lady is princess, as they have similar traits and features. My Lady is second-in-command, so it is according the Prince's will.'
Carnellach looked over at Menelmir, who was gazing off into the distance. "I follow your lead, Menelmir-a." When the blonde looked at her, startled, Carnellach winked, and they both laughed.
~*~
The clash of steel on steel echoed throughout the stone room. The two warriors backed away and paced. The black-haired man breathed heavily, gazing in worry at his opponent--a brown-haired persona whose dancing green eyes jeered at him. Her brown hair was matted with sweat and pulled back with a tight green cord. Her clothes were simple and made for quick movements rather than defense; her name was Taurelote, and her only goal at the moment was to beat this man and become the guard of Boromir.
Taurelote lunged in and used her sword to swing upwards. The man blocked and twisted, making them both spin about. When they lunged toward another again, swords hilt to hilt, Taurelote let her free hand speed upwards, lifting the man's ribcage and sending him flying. As his sword clattered across the room, she placed the edge of her dagger against his throat. "I win."
The men along the walls whistled and cheered, some begrudgingly. They had come to admire this she-warrior who seemed to fear no death.
Boromir, the son of the Steward of Gondor, stood forth. "The battle is over, with Taurelote the victor."
As Taurelote winked and waved to the crowd, Denethor stood to whisper hastily in his son's ear. "A woman? A weak female as your guard? Will you stand for this?! I can have her replaced easily."
Boromir looked at his father seriously. "I do not think of her in terms of female or woman. The many times that she could have killed those men in this battle, that would be all the more less of the assassins that could be after me. To let such a gem escape? Besides, she is very...well-figured."
"Very well," Denethor sighed, but somewhat smiled. Taurelote had turned to face them and was waiting for the formal announcement. "Taurelote, the female warrior of unknown origin, is now a warrior under Gondor's reign. Come forth, Taurelote." She did so, right until the stairs to the dais upon which he stood. She laid her sword in front of him and repeated the words she knew she had to say. "Hear do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Taurelote daughter of No One of No Where of No Peoples."
"Do you understand that you will be living a ragged life when my son decides to travel? Days of hard riding, fighting for your life and food?"
Taurelote raised her eyes. "Sir, I joined the tournament with all these things in mind. I pay them no mind. I give my word on my life that I will protect your son, and I promise to follow him wherever he leads. I look forward to it."
"Silence." Denethor tapped her on the head with his sword. "You are now under Boromir's governing."
Boromir stood up and dismissed the crowd. "Stand, Taurelote."
She did so and brushed off her knees, grinning. "What is your first wish, Master?"
He grinned half-heartedly back, rolling his eyes towards his father. "Since you are probably weary from the competition, I will show you to your room and have a bath drawn for you. We dine in two hours."
~*~
Siringnen had reached the Tower Hills, in the Shire, when she decided she'd rest for the night. Evening had long since fallen, and she was tired still; she'd never traveled this fast this far before. But then again, she hadn't had the need to, nor the fact that she had 'parents' waiting for her safe return. Siringnen sighed as she unrolled her sleeping mat. She'd finally crossed the Brandywine nigh four days ago; now she was in between the Hills and the river-closer to the Tower Hills than she was the River Lhun.
As she was lying down, listening to a brook babbling nearby, a shadow fell over her heart. Something foul was in the water. She sat up hastily and groped in the near-moonless night for her bow. "Yrch," she said in her native tongue as she stood up clutching her weapon. But they were already there upon her, ready with spears. Even with her near-elven speed, she would not be able to draw her bow in time.
Swish thunk! The sound of an arrow hitting flesh was accompanied by the orc nearest her dropping with the arrow embedded in its skull. Its comrades stunned, the moment gave Siringnen enough time to string her bow and let loose, helped by someone outside the circle of orcs. When the last orc was finally killed, Siringnen dropped heavily onto her sleeping mat, which was surrounded by orc carcasses. A shadowed figure walked into her line of sight from the trees at the foot of the hills. "Who are you, and why do you help me?" she called instinctively in Quenya, the language she was first taught.
"Apology...you speak Quenya, I speak Sindarin," the figure replied smoothly in voice though it was broken in grammar.
"Alright, then: who are you, and why do you help me?" Siringnen asked again, only in Sindarin. The figure was now close enough for her to see it: a man or woman dressed in breeches, high boots, and a tunic, though he/she wore a leather vest, so he/she wasn't an ordinary traveler. He/she looked like a hunter. Although, Siringnen thought, it is rather feminine-figured...
"I am Ninquesul. I am the warrior who protects the Shire. Who are you, milady, to be out so late and alone?"
Siringnen stood and curtsied; glad she had worn the simple traveling skirt instead of breeches, which would've meant she'd've had to bow. "I am Siringnen, daughter of Lothlorien. I am in your debt."
"It was nothing," Ninquesul shrugged, now standing on the other side of the ring of orcs. "You have to be careful. These are deserter orcs- they travel in small groups and attack virtually anyone they see."
"It must be a dangerous job!" Siringnen exclaimed. "In thanks, do come and share my fire tonight. Surely your guard duties will allow this?"
Ninquesul hesitated. "I, I work for myself. The little people are, for the most part, blissfully unawares of what is happening around them. So...I can share your fire."
"Good. Now that that's settled...what to do with these bodies?"
The guard looked down at them. "Well.... leave them. We will camp elsewhere. They deserve no proper burial; someone will eventually burn them."
"If you say so," Siringnen replied doubtfully. With quick grace she gathered up her sleeping mat and her pack. Ninquesul helped her over the bodies, and she ended up against her chest! Siringnen felt a faint blush on her cheeks, and praised Varda that it was dark.
"I left my pack and mat just inside the woods. Would you come with me, or would you wait here?" Ninquesul asked, with a voice that did not betray the strange statacco beat of her heart.
"I-I'll wait here for you," Siringnen replied. The guard shrugged and started walking back to the woods. Siringnen waited a moment, and then easily ran to the other's side, smiling up at her. "Heh...maybe I'll walk with you, instead." Ninquesul smiled easily.
"Whatever."
~End Chapter One~
Well, I'd be much obliged if you'd leave your thoughts in a review. Domo arigato! Remember, if you want a list of names (of course, only of characters that have appeared so far) and what those names mean, just leave your email in your review! If you don't have an email address, try to catch me on AIM or MSNMessenger, k? Oh, I'm occasionally on Yahoo! Messenger as well; that name's thephantompoet213. That's all! See ya!
[1] Urime is the Quenya name of the month 'August'