Deep in thought I cling to the branches of a lofty tree, it sways and keeps me close to the trunk. I love sitting in the branches listening to the secrets of the trees, the sad voice of the wind, and the sound of the waves crashing onto the surf. Even though I am miles from the sea I can still hear her. The sea sings me songs of a land faraway from Middle Earth. It speaks of an everlasting land and of my kin. I hear everything from my tree tops. Feeling oddly courageous I jump out of my tree and set off for the stairs of Lóthlorien. I dwell in the golden trees of Lóthlorien which has now been long abandoned. It is over grown now, but is still beautiful. I tread down the silent steps and approach a mirror of water and a small fountain.

I fill the silver pitcher with the clear water and pour it into the mirror. I look excitedly into the water. I find myself always excited when I look into the mirror even though it has shown nothing every time I look. The mirror shows my image and I instantly dishearten but the picture swirls.

It erupts into color of dark blues and light grays. It carries me deep into Moria into the dwellings of orcs and I see one of the palantír one of the three lost Seeing Stones of Númenor an orc sits upon the throne of the dwarf kings and holds the stone in its hands. The picture of the seeing stone changes quickly. It reveals a light face with sea green eyes. It is a women her hair is long and a shade of dark brunette. I cry out, that face is mine. I jerk back and the picture disappears into a cloud of steam.

Lóthlorien is no longer safe. I waste no time and I flee to my trees. They whisper and chant of danger. I grab my few possessions and jump from my tree and land softly. I turn to Gondor and set off at good pace.

I run all day and into the early night. I shiver and stop I am not used to nights out of the trees. I scan the surrounding area and spot a stream. I trot over to the stream and use my hands to scoop up the water. Greedily I swallow until my stomach is full enough to burst of water.

I dig up two cattails off the bank and clean the roots off in the stream. I use my dagger to cut off the cattail. I gather dry wood and two green forked branches and one straight one. I build a small fire and a spit and skewer the roots and cook them slowly.

The stars are veiled and the night grows cold. The wind rustles and murmurs of a gathering storm. It will be a wet night. The cattail roots spit and hiss and turn a golden brown. I pull them out of the fire and daintily nibble on one. It tastes a lot like a potato and are really hot. I put it aside to cool and look for a place where I might escape the rain. I walk along the creek and find an old lean-to. Actually a more accurate description would be, a few logs against a tree. There was only room enough for a child, but it would have to do. I walk over to my fire and gather my roots.

A light drizzle forms and I can see lightening jump from cloud to cloud. I put out my fire and turn for the lean-to. The rain begins to become heavy. I break into a run and slide into the lean-to. The sky rolls with turmoil and lightning flashes. The roots from the cattail are now cool and I take a large bite. The rich nutrients and warmth floods my body. The lean-to is cramped but dry. I soon drift into a heavy slumber.

I awake in the middle of the night to a particularly lard clap of thunder and lightning streaks the sky. I look at myself and I am caked with mud and dirt. I touch my face and find it encrusted with mud and pieces of the cattail root. I laugh at myself quietly and fall back into a lighter sleep. There I see the orc king. He is scouring the seeing stone. He is looking for my face and then he is interrupted.

Author note Hope you like it. Got a little slow but it will get better as the story goes! Please Please review!