This is a new Lord of the Rings story that I started writing a while back. It's slow going, since I demand more from myself than last time. I hope it is to your liking, because I mashed some Shadow of Mordor into this.
The moss gives off a calming fresh scent. The rain has only just ceased and the sky has cleared to give a full view of the waning moon. It is slightly windy, causing the large leaves of the young Mallorn trees to rustle loudly as they dance in the wind.
Between the rocking and groaning trees, a pale figure stands, waiting quietly. Their hair dances along with the leaves, but other than that, they remain motionless.
It is not before the sound of hoof falls reaches their keen ears that they move at all, looking up to see into the distance to behold a dark horse fast approaching. It goes nearly unseen in the pitch-blackness of its surroundings.
It is carrying a tall rider, but it isn't until they came closer, that the pale figure can distinct another smaller figure seated before the rider, wrapped up tightly in a dark cloak.
As the rider comes to a halt, the pale-one steps out from the tree line and into the moonlight to reveal a woman of significant beauty. Her long blonde hair catches the moonlight, making it shine eerily. Her night blue colored eyes seem to be full of stars while they look worriedly towards the small figure in front of the rider.
"Na he negr? (Is she hurt?)" the woman asks while she watches the figure closely as they are taken down from the horse by the rider.
"Baw nin híril. (No, my Lady.)" they reply as they set the figure down on their small feel. Their legs seem to tremble from weariness and fear.
The woman crouches down before them and reaches out to unveil the cloaked face. A pale girlish face is revealed. Her rosy cheeks covered in shed tears as they continue to fall from the round crystalline blue eyes. "Ceri ú nifred. (Do not fear.)" the woman tells the youngling before her in a comforting manner. "Im nidh deli cin eithel. (I intend to hide you well.)"
The woman looks to her new ward in surprise when the child unfolds herself from her large cloak and holds out her hand, holding out something within her small curled fingers.
Curious, the lady holds out her hand to receive whatever it may be that this child holds. She can't help but gasp as the child lays a ring in her delicate hand. "O adar. (From father)" the girl hiccups.
The lady looks at the delicate ring in her hand carefully, sensing the power held by it. It is most precious, with its stone shining like a star as it is held with its Mithril grasp.
"Hen est na Nenya. (Her name is Nenya.)" the girl reveals as the lady slides the ring carefully on her finger, eyes wide in awe.
…..
Many eyes are on Arwen Undomiel as she dashes into Imladris on her light mare. Her stormy grey blue eyes are large in fright, afraid for the live of which she has been entrusted to carry to safety. Because she is not alone; she carries with her on her horse the figure of one of the smaller folk of Middle-Earth; a Hobbit. He looks to be in ill health and must be close to death, judged by the lack of color in his face and the pained look he carries.
Calling for her father, her voice resonating through the halls; Lord Elrond is quick to greet her and takes the young hobbit from his daughter before hurrying to the House of healing, where he will without a doubt use all his resources to make sure that his patient doesn't succumb to his injury. It is this hobbit's only chance of survival.
Now alone, Arwen hangs tightly unto her horse, completely out of breath from her ordeal. It took a great deal out of her to rid the both of them from those deadly horsemen. She knows they are likely to return, but for now she's home, safe and has accomplished her goal.
Once she has calmed down, she senses a particular pair of eyes on her. The feeling makes her spine tingle uncomfortably and thus, she turns to face whoever stares at her so boldly.
Her eyes lock with a pair of sharp grey ones, making her almost step back at the intensity of them. Even from her place in the courtyard, Arwen can still clearly distinct the elleth watching her person carefully from all the way by the guest quarters. Hidden away in one of the rooms.
Those eyes make Arwen's heart feel so heavy that she has to look away before she is sucked into them and drowns in the pain that lies behind them. When she dares to glance towards the elleth once more, she is no longer in sight. Sucking in a final deep shaky breath, Arwen shakes herself of the feeling before briskly walking her sweating horse to the stables.
…..
"Ennas ha na. (There it is.)" a voice whispers through the still autumn air. It is so quiet, it could be mistaken for a gust of wind, but there is no wind today and the only one there to acknowledge it, is already very familiar with this disembodied voice. She knows very well the source of it.
"Yallume. (At last.)" she sighs, leaning heavily against the wall. "Soon it begins."
…..
Someone is moving through the room, Frodo can hear them. If only he could have the strength to open his eyes so he can properly face the one who he can feel has their eyes trained onto him. But it is so hard for him to do, so hard to focus on one task… Why is it so hot? He is feeling so hot. Smoldering like he is being incinerated by dragon flame.
A sigh of relief escapes him as the heat is replaced by a cool touch on his head. It warms gradually as he radiates heat, but still… Even a little relief is welcome. It gives him some strength.
His lashes part only slightly, but it's enough to see the outlines of a figure hovering over him. They halt their movements once they notice eyes are staring back at them.
"Sleep youngling. It will do you good." an airy voice soothes him like a cool summer's evening breeze. It's impossible for his weakened mind to resist and he soon is back into the world of dreams, though now, they seem a little more peaceful.
…..
She closes the door quietly behind her, leaving the patient to his rest, only to turn around and come face to face with an amused looking wizard. He leans on his staff tiredly though looks pretty well mended, considering the state he arrived in. She remembers the tattered clothes and deep bruises well.
"Good evening." he tries casually, only for her to narrow her sharp eyes and tilt her head lightly. Gandalf can't help but comparing her to an owl; assessing whether a prey is worth having a go at.
"Mithrandir." she states quietly before trying to dodge him. He however was already anticipating her move and quickly falls into step with her.
After a minute of walking around aimlessly in an effort to lose the old wizard, she finally grinds to a halt at a casual pronounced: "Nice evening is it not?"
"What is it you want?" she asks, her tone leaving no guessing that she is annoyed.
"What I want? Were we not simply having a stroll?" he asks innocently, vexing her further.
"You know we were not. You are following me. Now state you business with me Gandalf, and hurry. I do not like to be toyed with." she warns him. It seems to have an effect as his face grows severe.
"What are you doing here Ithilae? Last time we spoke you were trying to keep away from it as far a physically possible, quite happy that it's location was unknown. Now, I find you nearly on top of it." he states, eying her carefully.
"You know why Gandalf. Do not ask the obvious questions." she simply states in reply.
"You have finally had enough?" he more states than asks, making her look him in the eye, a crystal blue clashing with blue-grey.
"Sometimes…" she starts, her jaw clenching and her forehead creasing. "Sometimes I feel like an outcast of my own mind. He seems to occupy more of it than myself."
Gandalf sighs sympathetically, earning a glare. He cares none however. "You hate him for it?" he questions, driving to the core of the problem this time.
"At times I think I do." she breathes, casting her eyes downward in shame. "But then he saves my life…again, and I grow uncertain on what to feel."
"It is nothing odd to be wanting control of yourself. He knows this and wishes this for you as well." the wizard consoles.
"But not before fulfilling his own selfish wishes." Ithilae nearly snarls.
"You don't mean that." he tuts, only for her to huff.
"He drove my mother to madness and now he haunts me until he gets what he wants. If only he could see him. But he won't show himself unless he wishes. He can only imagine the pained face he must carry at the tongue lashes of his own descendant.
Gandalf pretends to yawn in order to give himself an excuse to make a hasty departure. "I'll leave you to yourselves." he mutters before doing just that.
He doesn't even think she noticed his absence as she starts a heated discussion with what seems the air itself. Anyone who doesn't know of her situation would think the elven maiden a bit mad if they should see her now.
Please let me know your thoughts.