Of Roses and thorns:
Writers note:
1) This universe doesn't belong to me but to the Tolkien Estate blah, blah, blah.
2) I've changed a few parts in the story to fit my writing plot, so any moaners can shut it. Tolkien said that he wanted middle earth to become a "body of more or less connected legend" so really in this he states he was fine with other writers adapting his works, so ha!
Chapter 1: Prologue part 1
(Date: TA -1st May 2999 or in Shire Reckoning 1399)
(Location: Minas Tirith)
The room was large and richly furnished. Priceless paintings and tapestries were hung around the cream walls and wooden engravings were etched into the fireplace with stunning detail. In the gloom of it all, the room kept a constant upholding of wealth. The fire crackled hungrily, munching up wood alike to a horse to it's treasured hey. Heavy drapes were pulled around the vast four poster bed featured in the center for privacy. The single, small window was slightly ajar to let in the night , the world was cold and damp. A half-moon hung in the sky like a mobile for a child and the blanket of darkness seemed to cover all.
The light in the fireplace and several candles gave the impression on of shadows across the room that looked on in silent companionship. There was the scent of lavender and damp leaves coming from a bowl of scented herbs objectively on a side table, delivering it's faint fragrence to the room's inhabitants.
The inhabitants being female, numbering in three individuals. The first was a young lady that was like a candle near extinguished on a cold winter night. She was a glass window that could break at a single touch yet featured some of the most extraordinary images that drew in the interest of any who looked apon her. She possessed a rare ability therefore, of strength not in might but in will. However even she was at natures mercy as it seemed this frightened young individual's life began to wane under the strain of her perilous and self-sacrificing duty. Accordingly, she was dressed in the colour of her purity and innocence; she wore a white shift that was swiftly drenched in crimson dye. Her sleek, raven hair had become tangled and knotted in the wakes of pain that over took her and her blue eyes were drenched in the plunging waterfall that wetted her regal face.
The second individual was a seasoned maiden that must of once been a great youthened grace given to her long ago had been squandered apon her untill she appeared debilitated somewhat. However even time, though powerful, could not hide the air of the majesty surrounding the matron. Her eyes were alike to the great eagles of lore in their stormy glare. Dressed in an ash coloured gown, she seemed to be a personification of an oncomming storm cloud about to do battle with the inevitable.
The last individual was a lowly maid, with a cotton white cap and blackened skirts.. She held her head downcast so as to acknowledge her better's position and to symbolise her lower class. She was young though, and had glowing blond hair that occasionally escaped her cap. Her silence however was thankful, as it provided an almost peaceful aura of which the young lady could see to her duty in quiet solitude.
The duty being that of all wives; to provide an heir to their husband's estates.
However this duty was more important then just an act of succession. In reality? It was far more important then even the life of the mother, for by giving the life of the child: The lady knew that it would eventually become a vital piece in the upcoming event yet to happen.
"Be strong my dear, The child will come and by your strength be born the babe that we all long for. The preparation of Asphodel, Willow and Celandines will sped the process but it is for your endurance we must place our hopes in. Now, by your will, try and push this child into the world once more!" The withered madam spoke soothingly to the young woman with a tone of reassuring trust and familiarity.
A great cry erupted from the rosy lips of the imminent mother as her body shook in effort and fatigue. Her delicate hands grasped the bed linen and pulled in order to deal with the utter magnitude of the birth. The contraction must of been a lengthy one as when it finally ended, the lady shakeningly inhaled abruptly.
"Brúnith, I can't do this! The pain is too much to bear! By the valar, Is the end near or is it yet far away from me?" The young woman looked into the eyes of the woman - who's name was indeed Brúnith - and implored for the woman to answer her desperate cry for relief. As if struck dumb by the question, Brúnith could not bring herself to break the connection to the young lady. So fragile, so young and so innocent. She struggled with herself so as not to give in to the threat of tears and reluctantly built up a dam against them as she looked away from those watery eyes in order to investigate the exact position of the child. She felt the womb of the lady and then excitedly reported her findings.
"The birth is imminent. You, girl!" She frantically glanced towards the maid, who at that moment had been idle near the wall so as not to be in the way; "Come here and bring linen for wrapping!" The girl hastened and quickly went to work while at all times heeding the instructions of Brúnith. Suddenly a healthy cry sounded and after the hurried attempt to wrap and clean the child, the maid strode over to the lady and carefully placed the new-born baby in her arms.
"It's a girl Madam!" The maid squeaked in a small yet chirpy tone that must of been bottled up since her first glance at the scene going on before her.
The new mother turned her head towards the child and smiled, instantly loving and cherishing each moment with this new being. She lifted the little bundle and kissed the child's forehead in adoration, before naming the child's virtues in a cacophony of wonder.
"Alas, I regret that I can not watch her grow into a true maiden of Gondor. The spirit's are cruel in that regard. Farewell, my sweet blossom. Farewell, my Luthien!" She called in growing pain before giving into the black shadow of Death. Her breaths become hollow and eventually stopped all together as she went to the next world.
"Talia, go to the master and tell of your mistresses' passing and of the child. I fear I do not have the strength to move!" Brúnith murmured to Talia, the maid, before taking the child into her arms and huddling her close. Talia looked towards the body of her mistress before exiting the room solemnly. The baby Luthien began to bawl and whimper as if sensing her mother's fate and Brúnith looked apon the child with such emotion that she felt the dam of tears burst open with a quiet moan of sadness.
"So, you are to be called Luthien I presume? A blessed name for such a gifted child. Do not fear Luthien for I am here to protect you. No harm will come to you while I am here I swear, for I shall honnor and guide you in such a way lady Findulas would of. She was a fair lady your mother, and all of Gondor shall mourn her loss. I swear by the forces of right and good that I shall always protect you as I would your mother. Always ..."
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Adieu.
Katherine