As this is my third work to be posted on ff.net, I see very little reason
to continue writing disclaimers, but as I do wish to avoid costly and time
consuming lawsuits, I will state for the inane third time…I own nothing of
Tolkien's! This story is completed, although not all parts will be posted
at once, but over the span of a few weeks, like a serial. If you are going
to review, please think through what you say before you send…realize that I
will never be offended by anything written to me on an internet review
board, but realize as well that I hold flamers in very low regard and those
people who can't even spell correctly when they are flaming me even lower.
With that having been said, there is one very important thing about this story that is worth noting…the title will give it away for some of you, for others I will have to say that this story is based upon an idea that came to me while listening to "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica. For those of you who do not know the song, look up the lyrics, or better still, listen to the song, it is well worth your time. For the rest I leave this story, because I truly believe that when it comes to love and trust, Nothing Else Matters.
Prologue
"I cannot understand why you are doing this. You are throwing everything beautiful in your life away with both hands and reaching out for something that isn't there." Leomë reached out to touch his sister as she shied away from his hand and continued to pull objects off a small table that had sat in what was once her bedchamber. Her hands skipped over tiny jewel cases and bottles of perfume, intricate woodcarvings and delicate boxes filled with various bits she had collected over the years she had spent in Lorien. Everything was swept into a large sack that was destined for the fires; all of her memories and ties to the past were tossed into forgetfulness as she unemotionally threw them away.
There was however, one small trinket she did not toss so quickly into the sack. She picked up the tiny object and cupped it in her hands, allowing it to roll across her palm as Leomë tried see what it was that had given pause to her motions.
"What is it Ëmara?" His voice was tentative, knowing his sister's often violent mood swings at the drop of the most inoffensive comment. She closed her hand over the object and placed it inside the leather pouch she always wore around her neck. Without missing a beat she continued to shuffle everything else off of the table and into the sack.
"I want you to listen to me Ëmara…"
"No! I want you to listen to me!" Leomë was cut off by the first words his sister had spoken towards him in nearly three days. The anger in her voice dissipated almost instantly and was replaced by the submissive sadness that had come about after the death of her husband, Dîniath, during the final battle in the Wars of the Ring. Even Leomë could see that her entire countenance, once commanding and strong, had dwindled visibly into what he was now staring at…the wasted form of Ëmara.
"I…" she began again, much quieter and now filled with immeasurable sadness, "I want you to forget about me Leomë. I want you to let me go." At this he set his shoulders firmly and picked her chin up, bringing her dark gray eyes up to his own hazel irises. In them he could see nothing of the sister he had once known, they were as empty and emotionless as a vast expanse of thick mist.
"You are not leaving like this, I shall not let you depart with so much sadness still dwelling in your heart. It is not your fault Dîniath was killed, there was nothing you could have done to stop him from going." Leomë instantly regretted mentioning Dîniath's name; it was like a physical blow to Ëmara, who crumpled with her hands covering her face.
"He would not have gone if I had asked him not to. If he had known how much I loved him…why couldn't I tell him? He would not have gone…" She spoke through bitter tears, the memories of her husband crowding her mind and replacing the emptiness in her heart with hatred for herself.
"No…no…he would have gone anyway." Leomë leaned downward and wrapped his arm around her, noticing how much she had wasted away under the burden of her sorrow. Her shoulders flinched slightly and before Leomë had time to react, his body had been thrown violently across the room.
"Oh Leomë! Leave me!" Ëmara turned away as he stared wildly up at her, his confusion at her outburst startling him greatly.
"Why did you do that to me?" He demanded, rubbing his elbow and wincing slightly as he struggled to stand after the force of her throw. It was evident to him that Ëmara's powers had grown considerably since the last time he had seen her. She looked at him intently, her eyes revealing that she had read his thoughts.
"Yes…I have known for some time now that my powers have grown stronger. Don't you see now? I must leave…there is nothing for me here, I bring nothing but sadness into these woods." She averted her eyes as she stood and made her way to the door.
"Where would you go Ëmara? There is no place in this world where sorrow does not live. You cannot carry the weight of all Arda's troubles on your shoulders…you will collapse." She stopped at the door, her hand resting on the knob as she breathed out in a long sigh. Leomë watched her shoulders sink as her voice fell to almost a whisper:
"It does not matter any more."
With that having been said, there is one very important thing about this story that is worth noting…the title will give it away for some of you, for others I will have to say that this story is based upon an idea that came to me while listening to "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica. For those of you who do not know the song, look up the lyrics, or better still, listen to the song, it is well worth your time. For the rest I leave this story, because I truly believe that when it comes to love and trust, Nothing Else Matters.
Prologue
"I cannot understand why you are doing this. You are throwing everything beautiful in your life away with both hands and reaching out for something that isn't there." Leomë reached out to touch his sister as she shied away from his hand and continued to pull objects off a small table that had sat in what was once her bedchamber. Her hands skipped over tiny jewel cases and bottles of perfume, intricate woodcarvings and delicate boxes filled with various bits she had collected over the years she had spent in Lorien. Everything was swept into a large sack that was destined for the fires; all of her memories and ties to the past were tossed into forgetfulness as she unemotionally threw them away.
There was however, one small trinket she did not toss so quickly into the sack. She picked up the tiny object and cupped it in her hands, allowing it to roll across her palm as Leomë tried see what it was that had given pause to her motions.
"What is it Ëmara?" His voice was tentative, knowing his sister's often violent mood swings at the drop of the most inoffensive comment. She closed her hand over the object and placed it inside the leather pouch she always wore around her neck. Without missing a beat she continued to shuffle everything else off of the table and into the sack.
"I want you to listen to me Ëmara…"
"No! I want you to listen to me!" Leomë was cut off by the first words his sister had spoken towards him in nearly three days. The anger in her voice dissipated almost instantly and was replaced by the submissive sadness that had come about after the death of her husband, Dîniath, during the final battle in the Wars of the Ring. Even Leomë could see that her entire countenance, once commanding and strong, had dwindled visibly into what he was now staring at…the wasted form of Ëmara.
"I…" she began again, much quieter and now filled with immeasurable sadness, "I want you to forget about me Leomë. I want you to let me go." At this he set his shoulders firmly and picked her chin up, bringing her dark gray eyes up to his own hazel irises. In them he could see nothing of the sister he had once known, they were as empty and emotionless as a vast expanse of thick mist.
"You are not leaving like this, I shall not let you depart with so much sadness still dwelling in your heart. It is not your fault Dîniath was killed, there was nothing you could have done to stop him from going." Leomë instantly regretted mentioning Dîniath's name; it was like a physical blow to Ëmara, who crumpled with her hands covering her face.
"He would not have gone if I had asked him not to. If he had known how much I loved him…why couldn't I tell him? He would not have gone…" She spoke through bitter tears, the memories of her husband crowding her mind and replacing the emptiness in her heart with hatred for herself.
"No…no…he would have gone anyway." Leomë leaned downward and wrapped his arm around her, noticing how much she had wasted away under the burden of her sorrow. Her shoulders flinched slightly and before Leomë had time to react, his body had been thrown violently across the room.
"Oh Leomë! Leave me!" Ëmara turned away as he stared wildly up at her, his confusion at her outburst startling him greatly.
"Why did you do that to me?" He demanded, rubbing his elbow and wincing slightly as he struggled to stand after the force of her throw. It was evident to him that Ëmara's powers had grown considerably since the last time he had seen her. She looked at him intently, her eyes revealing that she had read his thoughts.
"Yes…I have known for some time now that my powers have grown stronger. Don't you see now? I must leave…there is nothing for me here, I bring nothing but sadness into these woods." She averted her eyes as she stood and made her way to the door.
"Where would you go Ëmara? There is no place in this world where sorrow does not live. You cannot carry the weight of all Arda's troubles on your shoulders…you will collapse." She stopped at the door, her hand resting on the knob as she breathed out in a long sigh. Leomë watched her shoulders sink as her voice fell to almost a whisper:
"It does not matter any more."