Ok people, this fic is a little more serious then my other, ok, maybe a lot
more serious. I decided to write it when I woke on Saturday morning after a
strange dream, and had more then half of it already planned in my head, so
happy reading and please review!
A young girl lay unconscious upon the red sand floor of a mud hut. Her long honey-colored hair lay limp across her pale face and there were gashes in her blood stained and ragged dress. There was also a deep cut in the palm of her right hand, which oozed with blood.
People around her were screaming as arrows shot past the window. Her eyes flickered as a shadow crossed over her face from the open doorway in front. The blurred figure came towards her, lifted her off the ground and pulled the hair back from her slightly pointed ears. More figures followed and then all went dark again as she was pulled into the dark dream of yesterday.
'People were dancing around her. Dark men in colored robes and masks scratched at her clothes and chanted in a strange language she had never heard before. Then the grandest of these men walked towards her carrying a short polished knife that glinted in the cold firelight. He took her hand and drew the weapon along her palm, slicing deep into her flesh. She cringed as he squeezed the blood from her palm into a wooden bowl he had carried in his other hand. The chanting stopped.
The other dancers turned their heads towards their leader as he walked carefully to the fire and threw the sticky red liquid across it. To her surprise the fire blazed green and doubled in size, sending green ashes into the sky. A dark green, dancing figure remained silhouetted in the air for a second and then vanished as the flames went back to their previous color. The leader went back to her and whispered something dark into her ear.
Then she remembered what he had said that had seemed so evil; she was to be sacrificed at the sunrise after the full moon. That was today.'
Her eyes opened with a start and she glanced around. Twenty figures were sitting almost totally camouflaged around her. A warm blanket had been placed over her body to shield her from the cruel frost. She staggered to her feet, eyes wide with fear, and began edging away from them. Suddenly, she tripped over a bare tree root behind her and fell backwards onto the cold frostbitten ground with a crunch.
The figure closest to her turned his head when he heard the crash and leapt lightly onto his feet. This alerted the rest of them, and they all turned to look at her. She rolled over and got back up, ready to try and run, but before her foot had even left the ground she felt the firm grip of a strong hand around her arm. She pushed the arm away from her and hit its owner in the face, startling him enough for her to get a head start in the running.
But he was much faster then she and soon caught up, cornering her in the crook of an old oak tree, pressing her against the bark. She shuddered as his hands held her firm against the tree that had betrayed her, and she turned her face away.
"Leave me!" she cried as a tear glided from her cheek and steamed as it hit the ground. The man turned her face to look at him, though her eyes would not.
"Look at me," he said softly. Her green, tear-stained eyes flickered to meet his of bright blue. He smiled and his eyes twinkled; they were not like the cruel brown that she had looked into for so many nights before.
"Don't kill me," she whispered desperately. "I don't want to die."
He laughed gently and wiped a tear from her face with his finger. "I am not here to kill you. Do I look no different from the Haradrim of the South?"
His face was fair and young. There was no sign of age, though wisdom was shining clearly in his eyes. His long golden hair was braided slightly on the edges behind his pointed ears to keep it out of his face, although the rest of his hair hung below his shoulders.
"We found you near dead inside the Haradrim leader's hut. You were wounded and had lost a lot of blood. We saved you from sacrifice," said another figure with brown hair who had just appeared behind him. "Did we not, 'Prince' Legolas?"
The girl shivered. Her eyes were no longer filled with fear as they had before, and a new kind of relief showed in her face.
The one called Legolas wiped away the blood that fell from his cut lip. "Your nails are sharp, young one," he said humorously. Then a look of concern passed over his face, for she seemed weary and swayed. "Come," he whispered as he caught her and lifted her in his arms. "Now that you know we are not evil, you can rest again. We have already journeyed for four days while you were resting, but you have seen great evil and great evil has been upon you, and you have not eaten good food for some time." He then took her to the others who were sitting around the fire, gave her the blanket and then sat down next to her.
The other men were now watching her with great interest. The twenty that were there seemed to be from three different realms, judging by the clothes they wore.
"Her ears are pointed," said the man with brown hair, whom she recognized from before. "She may be an elf, like us."
"Aye, Elrohir," said another dark-haired elf, very much a like to the first. "What is your name?" he now asked as he handed the girl a piece of waybread.
"I cannot remember," she answered, "I woke one morning in pain and dark and I was there. I do not remember what happened before then."
"Well." Legolas said. "I for one shall call you Elbereth, like the lady of long ago, for never has one so fair been so far from our lands and in such darkness. Maybe El for short." He smiled warmly at her, and she returned it.
"Yes," El replied, some part of her memory remembered that name. "El."
A young girl lay unconscious upon the red sand floor of a mud hut. Her long honey-colored hair lay limp across her pale face and there were gashes in her blood stained and ragged dress. There was also a deep cut in the palm of her right hand, which oozed with blood.
People around her were screaming as arrows shot past the window. Her eyes flickered as a shadow crossed over her face from the open doorway in front. The blurred figure came towards her, lifted her off the ground and pulled the hair back from her slightly pointed ears. More figures followed and then all went dark again as she was pulled into the dark dream of yesterday.
'People were dancing around her. Dark men in colored robes and masks scratched at her clothes and chanted in a strange language she had never heard before. Then the grandest of these men walked towards her carrying a short polished knife that glinted in the cold firelight. He took her hand and drew the weapon along her palm, slicing deep into her flesh. She cringed as he squeezed the blood from her palm into a wooden bowl he had carried in his other hand. The chanting stopped.
The other dancers turned their heads towards their leader as he walked carefully to the fire and threw the sticky red liquid across it. To her surprise the fire blazed green and doubled in size, sending green ashes into the sky. A dark green, dancing figure remained silhouetted in the air for a second and then vanished as the flames went back to their previous color. The leader went back to her and whispered something dark into her ear.
Then she remembered what he had said that had seemed so evil; she was to be sacrificed at the sunrise after the full moon. That was today.'
Her eyes opened with a start and she glanced around. Twenty figures were sitting almost totally camouflaged around her. A warm blanket had been placed over her body to shield her from the cruel frost. She staggered to her feet, eyes wide with fear, and began edging away from them. Suddenly, she tripped over a bare tree root behind her and fell backwards onto the cold frostbitten ground with a crunch.
The figure closest to her turned his head when he heard the crash and leapt lightly onto his feet. This alerted the rest of them, and they all turned to look at her. She rolled over and got back up, ready to try and run, but before her foot had even left the ground she felt the firm grip of a strong hand around her arm. She pushed the arm away from her and hit its owner in the face, startling him enough for her to get a head start in the running.
But he was much faster then she and soon caught up, cornering her in the crook of an old oak tree, pressing her against the bark. She shuddered as his hands held her firm against the tree that had betrayed her, and she turned her face away.
"Leave me!" she cried as a tear glided from her cheek and steamed as it hit the ground. The man turned her face to look at him, though her eyes would not.
"Look at me," he said softly. Her green, tear-stained eyes flickered to meet his of bright blue. He smiled and his eyes twinkled; they were not like the cruel brown that she had looked into for so many nights before.
"Don't kill me," she whispered desperately. "I don't want to die."
He laughed gently and wiped a tear from her face with his finger. "I am not here to kill you. Do I look no different from the Haradrim of the South?"
His face was fair and young. There was no sign of age, though wisdom was shining clearly in his eyes. His long golden hair was braided slightly on the edges behind his pointed ears to keep it out of his face, although the rest of his hair hung below his shoulders.
"We found you near dead inside the Haradrim leader's hut. You were wounded and had lost a lot of blood. We saved you from sacrifice," said another figure with brown hair who had just appeared behind him. "Did we not, 'Prince' Legolas?"
The girl shivered. Her eyes were no longer filled with fear as they had before, and a new kind of relief showed in her face.
The one called Legolas wiped away the blood that fell from his cut lip. "Your nails are sharp, young one," he said humorously. Then a look of concern passed over his face, for she seemed weary and swayed. "Come," he whispered as he caught her and lifted her in his arms. "Now that you know we are not evil, you can rest again. We have already journeyed for four days while you were resting, but you have seen great evil and great evil has been upon you, and you have not eaten good food for some time." He then took her to the others who were sitting around the fire, gave her the blanket and then sat down next to her.
The other men were now watching her with great interest. The twenty that were there seemed to be from three different realms, judging by the clothes they wore.
"Her ears are pointed," said the man with brown hair, whom she recognized from before. "She may be an elf, like us."
"Aye, Elrohir," said another dark-haired elf, very much a like to the first. "What is your name?" he now asked as he handed the girl a piece of waybread.
"I cannot remember," she answered, "I woke one morning in pain and dark and I was there. I do not remember what happened before then."
"Well." Legolas said. "I for one shall call you Elbereth, like the lady of long ago, for never has one so fair been so far from our lands and in such darkness. Maybe El for short." He smiled warmly at her, and she returned it.
"Yes," El replied, some part of her memory remembered that name. "El."