Daughter of Mirkwood
A Daughters of Middle Earth Story
Summary
The only daughter of a King who had lost his Queen and the beloved younger sister of a Prince, Aeslin had grown up in the heart of the Woodland Realm. But given her mother's death in battle when she was still but a child, very little was more important to King Thranduil and his son Legolas than her safety. Not only had she never set foot beyond the borders of the Greenwood, she'd rarely left the confines of her Father's Court. She grew up the sad child of a dark forest.
But the Greenwood was growing ever darker. Fearing for her safety should Aeslin stay within the borders of a Kingdom coming to be known as 'Mirkwood', the Elven King Thranduil found himself with a hard choice before him. Aeslin had always had a talent for healing, so he decided to send her to Rivendell to learn from Elrond as every great elven healer had done for centuries.
There she learns not only the arts of healing, but finds another family, and indeed, eventually finds love.
Follows Aeslin from before LotR through to the end of the films.
Haldir/OC
Formerly Titled Some Things are Meant to Endure
I will only post a single disclaimer, and it is this: This story is based almost solely on Peter Jackson's Film versions of LotR and The Hobbit, though I have drawn some inspiration and information (as I saw fit) from the original work of the masterful Tolkien. So if something is 'wrong', don't flame please; I am not aiming for canon, but enjoyment.
I only own my tweaks and my characters. If they weren't in the movies (or in some cases the books) I made them up.
I hope you enjoy!
Prologue
The carnage; the pure, unadulterated carnage. It was shocking and nauseating. It was horrible and repulsive and beyond anything she could have ever imagined. Nothing in her extensive training as a healer could have prepared her for this. It was an abomination. It wounded her deeply to see and feel so much death, especially when her efforts to staunch the loss of life seemed to make little difference. She couldn't think anymore, she just acted. Her slender hands flew over gaping wounds and her voice wove incessant incantations of healing. But no matter what she did, few looked like they would survive the night, and many died under her touch despite her efforts to save them. Several times over the last traumatic day and night she felt gentle yet persistent hands try to pull her away while familiar and unfamiliar voices alike urged her to rest.
However, it didn't matter anymore that her hands were stained red from the blood of dozens, even hundreds of nameless men, nor did it matter that her voice was beginning to grow hoarse from the endless stream of words coming from her lips. She didn't feel tired. She didn't even feel the horror anymore. She didn't feel anything. She was numb. This is what she had trained to do, and so she continued to fight a battle that was equally as desperate as one fought with arrows and swords. It was all she could do now.
It was all she had left to offer.
A/N : I hope you all enjoyed! If you did, please feel free to leave a review!
I'd love to hear your thoughts!