Inspired by a review on one of my other stories, I began typing this amazing story. Right now it is to be deemed a one-shot until I get a review or two. Or until I get so entirely bored that I decide to update it! Either one could happen quite soon or in about three or four days.
So anyway, on a lighter note, I've been acting this out for years now and decided 'why not post it?' And don't make fun of me for having fantasy acting classes! They're real! I take them with my imaginary friend, Superchick, after school everyday! Deal with my strangeness! Like everywhere else I have a character in here that is extremely important to the story. Life will go on whether you like that fact or not. My character's horse is almost the copy of Spirit, from Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or anything else that my character claims to have in here.
Liz's POV
I remember the day my parents were killed and I ran to my Uncle in Rivendell. I never knew why he was in Rivendell; he wasn't an elf.
But that's where I went and where I found my Uncle, Aragorn son of Arathorn.
Before I ran to him, I remember my parents being killed in a raid by these really strange men. They were starving; I could see their shrunken stomachs. I fought against my parent's will with the men of our camp. After downing ten of the strange men I watched with horror as my parents' were killed. I remember my mother's dying command to the strange man, "Kill me, but never put your hands on my daughter," she'd snarled. I watched in horror as my parents' lives ended that day.
I was only thirteen and my parents were gone from me forever. I remember fleeing the camp on Spirit, my beautiful stallion, and riding into Rivendell.
Aragorn was walking through the forest with a friend of his, Legolas, when he saw me. He demanded to know what happened to his brother and he'd stood in wide-eyed horror as I told him everything. He'd always told me that even though that day was hard for him to hear, he never regretted taking me in as his daughter.
He trained me for the next twenty years in everything he knew about fighting. I was a warrior from the beginning he said. I became even better than he was with a sword, even better with a bow and arrow than Legolas, I was a fighter and I liked it that way. On my birthday, September 22nd when I turned thirty-three, the coming of age, I was given a strange necklace. I have worn it ever since.
But after twenty years a very tall, older man came to see Aragorn. I recognized him as Gandalf the Gray, a very powerful wizard that became friends with Aragorn before my time. I wasn't told what they were speaking about, but when Aragorn came back, he told me that we were going solo, becoming rangers. I was confused but didn't ask why.
And so after a few months of being rangers, we stopped at an inn called The Prancing Pony. We came here quite a lot to meet with Gandalf, more meetings I wasn't allowed to listen in on, and Aragorn began his normal routine of lighting up his pipe and putting his hood over his face. I didn't smoke, so I put my hood over my face and pulled out a piece of paper with my writing utensil. I wrote songs when I got extremely bored. I was on a newer one that I called For a Pessimist I'm Pretty Optimistic (AN- By Paramore not by me, by Paramore. Comprende?) I let my eyes wander from table to table. Bunches of drunken men surrounded the premises, attempting to flirt with the women that strayed to close to them. Then I saw them.
"Aragorn," I nudged my uncle urgently, "Aragorn, I think that's him." A very small man, a hobbit, fingered a golden ring that hung around his neck.
He nodded the tiniest bit. "Well," I urged him to do something. "Leave him Liz, we will get to him in due time," His words were barely a whisper but I heard them just as well as if he'd shrieked them at me. Ah, growing up with the elves, after a while you tend to pick up their traits.
In almost five minutes the tiny man had disappeared and Aragorn grabbed where he was even though he was invisible. Dragging him up to a room that we were staying in, I followed behind the little renegade force that had formed out of the tiny man's friends. They'd just burst into the room to see Aragorn telling the guy about himself. Not really, what we'd learned to do in the time we'd spent as rangers was more like it. After a few months of searching for this Ring that hung around the small man's throat so innocently had taught us a few things when dealing with competitors.
"Oh, let him go, there's no use in scaring the poor guy to death," I laughed. The hobbits all whirled around quickly, one of them instinctively threw the candlestick he was grasping at my head. I dodged neatly and caught it out of the air. "I believe this belongs to you," I handed it back to him. The three red-headed hobbits that came together to save their friend stared at me with wide-eyed amazement. The black-haired one with the accursed Ring stared at me with an unknown emotion. Admiration didn't fit, more like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. Hobbits are so strange.
"Oh Liz, you always ruin my fun," Aragorn whined in mock sadness. We laughed together. The hobbits clustered around each other, probably freaked out by Aragorn and my happiness in such a dark hour.
How did I know it was a dark hour? Only one of two things could be after them-
Gollum, likely, but not as much as the second.
Ringwraiths, Black Riders, nine men who fell to the temptation of evil Sauron and the Ring. Call them what you will, they were my mortal enemies. Why?
They were the ones who killed my parents.
Later That Month, in Rivendell
"Liz, Aragorn, welcome back to Rivendell," Lord Elrond greeted us. He hugged Aragorn and stood in front of me. An uncomfortable silence plagued us. "Um, I'm going to go and see how Frodo's doing," I stepped away, leaving the awkward silence behind me. While I walked away to see Frodo I heard Aragorn tell Lord Elrond, "Those two have been inseparable ever since we met the four hobbits in Bree!" I rolled my eyes and kept walking.
Walking into the bright room where Frodo had been placed, I watched a scene fold out in front of me.
Sam was elated to see his best friend awake as were Merry and Pippin, and Gandalf sat beside the joyous reunion. I cleared my throat to get their attention.
"Sorry to break everyone away from Frodo and his miraculous recovery, but I'd like to speak with him… alone would be preferable," I smiled angelically. Gandalf shooed the three other hobbits out of the room and nodded to me as he shuffled out.
"Well, you're alive," I commented to Frodo, who was a virtual statue now. "Uh, Frodo, as much as I don't know about hobbits, I'm pretty sure they need to breath," I laughed at his quick intake of air after I pointed the fact out.
"Are you alright," Frodo inquired. "Frodo, seriously, you're the one that just got stabbed by a Morgul blade and you're asking me if I'm alright," He laughed at my snort. "Yes, I suppose I am," he took a deep breath and sighed. "I never stopped thinking about you," He whispered. I padded to crouch beside him. "And I, you," I breathed. We smiled at one another. I took his hand gently in mine. "Are you alright," I was very concerned. He nodded and gave me a warm and soft glance. "I am now," He told me, cradling my face in one of his hands adoringly.
I laid my head wearily on the coverlet of his bed and he lovingly stroked my copper hair. "Please don't die before we have a real chance to be together," I leaned into his palm. He chuckled but said nothing to my plea.
Please review! I want everyone to know what happens at the Council of Elrond! And I can't do that if no one will review. Actually, whether you review or not, I love this story so much that I will attempt to update with an hour or so! Just, if possible, please review.