Disclaimer: I bow down to Tolkien and his genius, but Anwanárë is mine.
Loving You from Afar
By crazeebabee
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
The woodcutter was working deep in the woods, splitting log after log to sell in the village nearby. A light rain had just started to come down, gently settling on the leaves and the grassy woodland floor. The man paused to wipe the sweat from his brow when he heard a distressed thrashing in the underbrush. Leaving his ax and drawing the dagger at his belt, he carefully advanced towards the sound.
Before he could get to the edge of the clearing, a woman appeared from the foliage. Her belly swollen with child, she staggered forward towards the man, breathing hard, her dark eyes desperate and clouded with pain. Her clothes were once of the highest quality and made with the greatest skill, but now they were stained and torn, barely hanging on the woman's bony shoulders. The woodcutter dropped his dagger and strode swiftly forward, just in time to catch the woman as she fainted.
Gently lowering the woman onto some soft leaves, the woodcutter felt her extended belly. He felt the faint contractions of childbirth. With a soft curse, the man gathered the woman in his arms once again. Standing, he strode quickly in the direction of the village.
As he approached the village, the women looked up from their work. Anxiously leaving their doorways, the women gathered around the worried woodcutter, who continued to stride into the heart of the village. He stopped before the hut of the old Wise Woman.
"What is it, Iomann?" The Wise Woman appeared to be extremely old, shrunken and with many wrinkles. However, her voice was still clear and sharp. Her keen blue eyes examined the unconscious woman.
"She is in labor, Wise One," the woodcutter said gruffly.
"I can see that," snapped the Wise Woman.
Unperturbed, the woodcutter added, "You must help her."
"Iomann." Exasperatedly, the Wise Woman pushed away the woman's blond hair to reveal pointed ears. "She is an elf."
One of the village women spoke up. "She still deserves your help, Wise One."
Another one joined in, "Please, Wise One, you must save her baby at the least."
Choruses of "Yes!" and "Please!" came from the other women. Finally, the Wise Woman threw up her hands in defeat.
"Ya, ya. Fine, I will see what I can do." The women broke into smiles. "But we must move quickly, the mother is fading fast and there is not much time to save the babe."
Immediately, the women scurried away to begin boiling water and construct a makeshift bed. Iomann gently laid the still unconscious elf on the bed. In all of the commotion, none noticed the Wise Woman give a quick but fervent prayer to the overcast skies.
"Please, Valar, hear my prayer on behalf of one of your own. Spare the life of the child; it deserves a chance." Turning to face her hut, the Wise Woman rolled her sleeves up and furrowed her brow. She sighed, "This will be a long night," before charging in to direct the women.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
The rain poured down in earnest now. Relentlessly, it pounded on the roof of the small hut. Inside, the fire was roaring and women were scrambling about with clean sheets and hot water. The Wise Woman, sweat matting her brow, was hunched over the belly of the newly conscious elf.
Wide green eyes glazed over with pain, the elf protectively held her belly. The contractions were becoming less frequent and weaker.
"What is your name?" the Wise Woman asked her gently while monitoring the contractions.
"Oirasírë. It means 'eternal river.'" Her voice was soft and lilting, beautiful and smooth even after so much suffering.
"Oirasírë, can I be honest with you?" When she nodded, the Wise Woman went on. "I don't think you're going to make it through the birth." Stunned, the elf gazed blankly at the pillow, trying to absorb the information. "You are far too thin and you have lost much of your strength. Added to that, you have been in labor for too long. The contractions are coming less frequently."
Finally, Oirasírë's eyes focused. Setting her mouth bravely, she looked up into the Wise Woman's eyes. Her determined green eyes shone in the firelight. "You must save the baby."
"But if I pull it from the womb, you will surely perish."
"But if you do not, both of us will die. My death does not matter. I would gladly give my life for that of my child's."
"If that is your wish . . ."
"It is."
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Hours later . . .
The Wise Woman triumphantly pulled the squalling babe up. Slapping it smartly on the bottom, she then cut the cord quickly and wrapped the babe in warm cloths. Gently, she laid the babe on the bed next to the mother. Oirasírë was perspiring heavily and gasping with pain, but she looked upon her child with loving eyes.
"'Tis a girl, my lady," exclaimed one of the village women.
Oirasírë smiled radiantly. Gathering the child in her arms, she carefully examined it from head to toe, marveling at each perfect feature. All this time, the Wise Woman was desperately trying to staunch the blood flow.
Shedding silent tears of joy and wonderment, Oirasírë traced her daughter's delicate, elven ears with a trembling fingertip. Then she placed a soft kiss on the child's black hair. The babe yawned and opened her eyes, revealing large amber-colored orbs. She smiled and grasped her mother's finger in a strong grip. Unfortunately, Oirasírë's laugh turned quickly into a fierce, wracking cough.
The Wise Woman quickly hurried to her side to feel her forehead. "By the Valar, you're burning up!" Oirasírë looked up with knowing eyes.
"Her name is Anwanárë," she whispered. "It means 'true flame.'" Another cough took over her, leaving her eyes fainter and her breath shallower. Desperately, she tried to pass the sleeping babe to the Wise Woman. "Promise me you will care for her as your own."
The Wise Woman blindly shook her head. "I cannot take your place. You must hold on, you must live."
The elf smiled sadly. "It was not meant to be. Do not worry for me, I will pass to a better place." Her next words were cut off by yet another cough, by far the worst. The Wise Woman took the babe from the suffering mother lest either should be hurt.
"You must promise me. Please, oh please," Oirasírë managed to gasp out. The Wise Woman looked down on the peacefully sleeping child.
"I promise." Content, Oirasírë gave her daughter one last kiss before lying back and closing her eyes. Her chest rose and fell erratically, the only indication of life. Soon even that ceased to move.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Review, pretty please!
Loving You from Afar
By crazeebabee
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
The woodcutter was working deep in the woods, splitting log after log to sell in the village nearby. A light rain had just started to come down, gently settling on the leaves and the grassy woodland floor. The man paused to wipe the sweat from his brow when he heard a distressed thrashing in the underbrush. Leaving his ax and drawing the dagger at his belt, he carefully advanced towards the sound.
Before he could get to the edge of the clearing, a woman appeared from the foliage. Her belly swollen with child, she staggered forward towards the man, breathing hard, her dark eyes desperate and clouded with pain. Her clothes were once of the highest quality and made with the greatest skill, but now they were stained and torn, barely hanging on the woman's bony shoulders. The woodcutter dropped his dagger and strode swiftly forward, just in time to catch the woman as she fainted.
Gently lowering the woman onto some soft leaves, the woodcutter felt her extended belly. He felt the faint contractions of childbirth. With a soft curse, the man gathered the woman in his arms once again. Standing, he strode quickly in the direction of the village.
As he approached the village, the women looked up from their work. Anxiously leaving their doorways, the women gathered around the worried woodcutter, who continued to stride into the heart of the village. He stopped before the hut of the old Wise Woman.
"What is it, Iomann?" The Wise Woman appeared to be extremely old, shrunken and with many wrinkles. However, her voice was still clear and sharp. Her keen blue eyes examined the unconscious woman.
"She is in labor, Wise One," the woodcutter said gruffly.
"I can see that," snapped the Wise Woman.
Unperturbed, the woodcutter added, "You must help her."
"Iomann." Exasperatedly, the Wise Woman pushed away the woman's blond hair to reveal pointed ears. "She is an elf."
One of the village women spoke up. "She still deserves your help, Wise One."
Another one joined in, "Please, Wise One, you must save her baby at the least."
Choruses of "Yes!" and "Please!" came from the other women. Finally, the Wise Woman threw up her hands in defeat.
"Ya, ya. Fine, I will see what I can do." The women broke into smiles. "But we must move quickly, the mother is fading fast and there is not much time to save the babe."
Immediately, the women scurried away to begin boiling water and construct a makeshift bed. Iomann gently laid the still unconscious elf on the bed. In all of the commotion, none noticed the Wise Woman give a quick but fervent prayer to the overcast skies.
"Please, Valar, hear my prayer on behalf of one of your own. Spare the life of the child; it deserves a chance." Turning to face her hut, the Wise Woman rolled her sleeves up and furrowed her brow. She sighed, "This will be a long night," before charging in to direct the women.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
The rain poured down in earnest now. Relentlessly, it pounded on the roof of the small hut. Inside, the fire was roaring and women were scrambling about with clean sheets and hot water. The Wise Woman, sweat matting her brow, was hunched over the belly of the newly conscious elf.
Wide green eyes glazed over with pain, the elf protectively held her belly. The contractions were becoming less frequent and weaker.
"What is your name?" the Wise Woman asked her gently while monitoring the contractions.
"Oirasírë. It means 'eternal river.'" Her voice was soft and lilting, beautiful and smooth even after so much suffering.
"Oirasírë, can I be honest with you?" When she nodded, the Wise Woman went on. "I don't think you're going to make it through the birth." Stunned, the elf gazed blankly at the pillow, trying to absorb the information. "You are far too thin and you have lost much of your strength. Added to that, you have been in labor for too long. The contractions are coming less frequently."
Finally, Oirasírë's eyes focused. Setting her mouth bravely, she looked up into the Wise Woman's eyes. Her determined green eyes shone in the firelight. "You must save the baby."
"But if I pull it from the womb, you will surely perish."
"But if you do not, both of us will die. My death does not matter. I would gladly give my life for that of my child's."
"If that is your wish . . ."
"It is."
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Hours later . . .
The Wise Woman triumphantly pulled the squalling babe up. Slapping it smartly on the bottom, she then cut the cord quickly and wrapped the babe in warm cloths. Gently, she laid the babe on the bed next to the mother. Oirasírë was perspiring heavily and gasping with pain, but she looked upon her child with loving eyes.
"'Tis a girl, my lady," exclaimed one of the village women.
Oirasírë smiled radiantly. Gathering the child in her arms, she carefully examined it from head to toe, marveling at each perfect feature. All this time, the Wise Woman was desperately trying to staunch the blood flow.
Shedding silent tears of joy and wonderment, Oirasírë traced her daughter's delicate, elven ears with a trembling fingertip. Then she placed a soft kiss on the child's black hair. The babe yawned and opened her eyes, revealing large amber-colored orbs. She smiled and grasped her mother's finger in a strong grip. Unfortunately, Oirasírë's laugh turned quickly into a fierce, wracking cough.
The Wise Woman quickly hurried to her side to feel her forehead. "By the Valar, you're burning up!" Oirasírë looked up with knowing eyes.
"Her name is Anwanárë," she whispered. "It means 'true flame.'" Another cough took over her, leaving her eyes fainter and her breath shallower. Desperately, she tried to pass the sleeping babe to the Wise Woman. "Promise me you will care for her as your own."
The Wise Woman blindly shook her head. "I cannot take your place. You must hold on, you must live."
The elf smiled sadly. "It was not meant to be. Do not worry for me, I will pass to a better place." Her next words were cut off by yet another cough, by far the worst. The Wise Woman took the babe from the suffering mother lest either should be hurt.
"You must promise me. Please, oh please," Oirasírë managed to gasp out. The Wise Woman looked down on the peacefully sleeping child.
"I promise." Content, Oirasírë gave her daughter one last kiss before lying back and closing her eyes. Her chest rose and fell erratically, the only indication of life. Soon even that ceased to move.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Review, pretty please!