DISCLAIMER: If you've read it in Tolkien, I do not own it. However, there
are many small characters that I do own and it would please me very much if
they were not used without my permission.
A quick introduction: I know this is yet another Legolas romance fan- fiction, but I am trying hard to make it seem less Mary-Sueish and possibly incorporate more plot and adventure than just the usual "love at first sight" deal. Please send any comments, suggestions or questions about the fiction; I greatly desire to have more knowledge of anything that involves Tolkien. Therefore, if you notice canon mistakes, notify me! I greatly appreciate constructive criticism, but please don't damper my heart with vitriolic attacks. Also, I am an extremely busy student, suffering from what many call "sleep- deprivation." If I delay slightly in updates, please understand. sometimes sleep is beneficial. Please take note that I do constantly revise previous works and as I continue to progress through the story, the beginning chapters may contain minor changes. I will put a notification if such does occur.
****
The night was dark and dangerous; the illumination of the stars and moon could not breach through the thick clouds. The coastal city was shrouded in darkness, the people peering out their windows to catch a glimpse of the fury occurring outside. Throughout the night, the wind had grown stronger and screamed louder and louder. The battered trees, mourning the loss of their leaves that were violently ripped away by the treacherous wind, accompanied the noise. However, through the gaps of the noise, the people could hear that ghastly roar, also growing louder throughout the night.
Ossë and his fury could not defend the city of Mithlond for long.
****
"Tell me more of this incident," stated the Elven-king, Thranduil, as he quickly walked down the halls in his underground city. He had heard the rushing of his guards' horses as they swept into the city and their yell for help, but for what reason he did not know.
"Elves were attacked by a band of Orcs on the western borders of the forest," the guard explained, "We heard the disturbance and rushed to the scene, but by the time we arrived two were already dead; the third was injured by an arrow to the leg. We fought off the Orcs, who quickly dispersed, and in doing so saved the survivor."
"How much do you know of these Elves?"
"They appear to be Falathrim, for they carry axes. The one who lived is poisoned and has only mumbled your name along with 'help.'"
"Why would the Falathrim be traveling to this realm? Especially at a time with Orcs running rampant throughout Middle Earth?"
Thranduil temporarily ceased his worries when they had reached the room that contained the survivor. Knocking twice, they were allowed to enter the dimly lit room. In the middle of the room was a bed: the white sheets that covered the injured Elf contained splotches of blood; on the floor in a metal pan was the arrow, soaked in blood as well. Around the bed stood an Elf, attending the wound caused by the poisoned arrow. When he noticed Thranduil, he quickly stepped aside and offered his story:
"She was not terribly injured by the arrow; it pierced only flesh, just barely missing the bone. However, the poison greatly affected her, so I had to quickly take the arrow out and apply the medicine. She fainted when the arrow was removed, but I am sure she will be in good condition by tomorrow."
Thranduil peered at the young she-Elf, immediately recognizing her although in such a horrid condition. It had been a long time since he had seen her last at Mithlond and he wondered why she had traveled such distance at such a dangerous time.
"She is indeed one of the Falathrim," declared Thranduil, "Her name is Haemerethwen, she was a warrior of Círdan the Shipwright before he left on the White Ship. However, I do not understand why she has traveled here." Thranduil knotted his brows in confusion, staring at the she-Elf as she slept in peace. "Perhaps we shall find out tomorrow." With this, he walked out of the room, leaving the guard and the other Elf to continue to wonder.
****
Haemerethwen woke the next morning with a tremendous headache. Groaning, she slowly tried to sit up, but was stopped by a sudden pain in her right thigh. Pulling the linen down, she peered at the cloth wrapped around her injury. Confused, she looked around the room, trying to understand where she was. The last she remembered was the awful breath of that goddamned Orc, Thrakdreg, when he laughed at her for being caught. So how did she end up in this room, her injury attended to, and feeling almost healed?
She slowly sank back down under the sheets, cursing her headache and the pain she had caused by moving. She began to hum to soothe her pain, and a minute afterward she heard the door being creaked open. An anxious Elf then appeared beside her bed.
"I was not expecting you to awaken so soon. I am sorry for being so inconsiderate," he confessed. She smiled up at him, glad to see an Elf beside her.
"I take it I am in Eryn Lasgalen. You were not being inconsiderate; I am extremely thankful for your care in my injury, you saved my life." At this, the Elf smiled back. He was glad to see her eyes shining compared to last night's dull glow. 'She must be in great condition to have healed so quickly,' he thought.
"Well, you are quite welcome. Are you in good enough condition to stand up? King Thranduil has asked to see you as soon as you are able."
"I doubt I can walk. I attempted to sit up beforehand without success." The healer then frowned, obviously disappointed that her story would not be told until later.
"More rest would suit you then. I shall apply more medicine and contact you later in the evening." He then unwrapped the cloth surrounding her thigh, applied the ointment, and wrapped it up in fresh cloth.
"Try to get some sleep," he said, "The ointment will help in your pain."
"Thank you, I am sure I will be able to." When the Elf left, Haemerethwen lay back on the bed and began to contemplate the incident that had happened the previous day:
Haemerethwen and her two companions sat upon their horses staring at the beauty of the countryside. It was a brilliant day, the sun was shining against her skin and, for once, she did not feel that usual coldness. Ever since the Orcs had attacked, she had felt their damned evil; slowly, she grew accustomed to its chill forcing its way into her protective soul. It was now just another daily factor, but she was determined to eradicate it for the sake of her sanity, and others'.
She assumed that the lack of the usual chill meant that the band of Orcs that had been following her group since their departure of Mithlond had probably lost their track. She questioned her other companions if they felt less burdened as well and they agreed that they could not feel the presence of the Orcs. She smiled, thankful that perhaps her group's effort to lose the Orcs had succeeded.
It was quickly pointed out that the border of Eryn Lasgalen was approaching and they should reach it by late afternoon. Haemerethwen urged them forward then, eager to breach upon Eryn Lasgalen and finally end her quest.
They traveled late into the afternoon before they entered Eryn Lasgalen; not once had they felt the presence of the Orcs. Now the thick trees shut out the sunlight and the forest floor was almost completely dark. Haemerethwen noted that her companions were not lying about the darkness of the forest. Her happiness slowly depleted in the dark and she began to feel uncomfortable in this unknown area. Her two companions, however, had been in Eryn Lasgalen numerous times and laughed at her uneasiness. She lightened up at their laughter and smiled, but she gripped onto the handle of her axe as they progressed.
Slowly, Haemerethwen began to feel a slight change within the air. It slowly became sharper with their growing steps, increasing in strength and decreasing in warmth. It appeared as if the forest was trying to dispel some hidden force within. The three Elves took notice of the moaning trees as the wind began to whip between their leaves, desperately trying to rid itself of some ailment. The storm grew and the trees cried loudly, beckoning them to aid them in their fearful disposition.
Confused, Haemerethwen looked to her companions in order to understand the situation. However, they appeared to be as fearful and confused as herself. Suddenly, she felt that familiar cold creeping into her soul, challenging her strength. Somehow, the Orcs had reached Eryn Lasgalen before the Elves and hid in the angry trees; by not stirring or speaking, they had eluded the unknowing Elves. Before Haemerethwen could cry out her realization, an arrow shot through the darkness and pierced one of her companions straight through the heart. The stunned Elf gripped the shaft of the arrow that was embedded in his chest and slowly slumped off of his horse, dead before hitting the ground.
Haemerethwen and her other companion quickly clicked their tongues and fled on their horses deeper into The wood. She hardly traveled twenty feet when she felt an intense pain in her right thigh. Shocked, she fell off her horse and hit the ground with a resounding thud. Her companion immediately spun around his horse, determined that he would not allow them to be beaten after traveling such distance. Jumping off his horse, he kneeled down to turn her face up, but before he could touch her he heard the evil cries of the Orcs, who were now jumping down from the trees. They quickly surrounded the two Elves, pointing their scimitars and laughing at their apparent defeat.
Haemerethwen heard their cries and forced herself to her hands and knees, despite the incredible pain she felt in her leg. Looking down, she realized that an arrow was lodged in her flesh and blood was pouring out of the wound. The anger that now coursed through her veins allowed her to stand next to her partner, who looked surprised to see her up. She pulled out her daggers as he pulled out his axe, both threatening the Orcs to attack them.
Immediately, they did. The two Elves were almost overwhelmed by the intensity of the attack: there were three Orcs attacking each Elf. Fighting valiantly, they held off for what seemed forever, but then she heard her companion cry out in pain. Glancing towards him, she found that an arrow had pierced his abdomen. She quickly limped to his side, attacking those that attacked him. However, almost instantly another arrow pierced him, but this time in the chest. He gasped out in his pain, trying to continue to defend himself. Haemerethwen, however, noticed where the archer was located by his last shot and quickly threw her dagger at the Orc. The dagger found its target and the Orc screamed as it fell from the branches above.
Her elven companion by this time could no longer stand, the pain had forced him to succumb and he fell to the ground, coughing up the blood that was leaking into his lungs. She knew that her companion was dying and she realized that she would be in the same position if she didn't find a way to escape. Desperate, Haemerethwen drew her axe and fought off the attacking Orcs, trying to formulate a plan. Suddenly, the Orcs stopped attacking the furious Elf. She slowly turning around, knowing that now it was too late to escape.
Frowning, she looked at the sneering Orc. It was Thrakdreg, the malicious leader of the band of Orcs that had been following her. Ignoring him, she rushed over to her companion, trying to comfort him in his dying moments. This Elf had accompanied her the entire journey from Mithlond and she was furious that she allowed this to happen. Her spite towards the Orcs allowed her to stand up temporarily, but her strength had diminished. The arrow in her leg was poisonous and already her senses were reeling; however, she could not allow herself to surrender.
The Orcs began whooping out in delight at this sight, they desired to see their leader finally annihilate the infuriating Elf. They could tell by her wincing and slouching that the poison had decreased her ability to defend herself and they celebrated the thought of success.
Thrakdreg stepped toward Haemerethwen, who was shivering from the pain that had taken over her body. Again he snickered, realizing that the Elf was now defeated. Haemerethwen raised her axe as she heard him creep closer to her, but she could no longer see where he was. As he placed his face in front of hers, she buckled to her knees, dropping her axe. She lost all sense of consciousness when her body began to fall towards the ground, leaving her in the hands of the Orcs.
A quick introduction: I know this is yet another Legolas romance fan- fiction, but I am trying hard to make it seem less Mary-Sueish and possibly incorporate more plot and adventure than just the usual "love at first sight" deal. Please send any comments, suggestions or questions about the fiction; I greatly desire to have more knowledge of anything that involves Tolkien. Therefore, if you notice canon mistakes, notify me! I greatly appreciate constructive criticism, but please don't damper my heart with vitriolic attacks. Also, I am an extremely busy student, suffering from what many call "sleep- deprivation." If I delay slightly in updates, please understand. sometimes sleep is beneficial. Please take note that I do constantly revise previous works and as I continue to progress through the story, the beginning chapters may contain minor changes. I will put a notification if such does occur.
****
The night was dark and dangerous; the illumination of the stars and moon could not breach through the thick clouds. The coastal city was shrouded in darkness, the people peering out their windows to catch a glimpse of the fury occurring outside. Throughout the night, the wind had grown stronger and screamed louder and louder. The battered trees, mourning the loss of their leaves that were violently ripped away by the treacherous wind, accompanied the noise. However, through the gaps of the noise, the people could hear that ghastly roar, also growing louder throughout the night.
Ossë and his fury could not defend the city of Mithlond for long.
****
"Tell me more of this incident," stated the Elven-king, Thranduil, as he quickly walked down the halls in his underground city. He had heard the rushing of his guards' horses as they swept into the city and their yell for help, but for what reason he did not know.
"Elves were attacked by a band of Orcs on the western borders of the forest," the guard explained, "We heard the disturbance and rushed to the scene, but by the time we arrived two were already dead; the third was injured by an arrow to the leg. We fought off the Orcs, who quickly dispersed, and in doing so saved the survivor."
"How much do you know of these Elves?"
"They appear to be Falathrim, for they carry axes. The one who lived is poisoned and has only mumbled your name along with 'help.'"
"Why would the Falathrim be traveling to this realm? Especially at a time with Orcs running rampant throughout Middle Earth?"
Thranduil temporarily ceased his worries when they had reached the room that contained the survivor. Knocking twice, they were allowed to enter the dimly lit room. In the middle of the room was a bed: the white sheets that covered the injured Elf contained splotches of blood; on the floor in a metal pan was the arrow, soaked in blood as well. Around the bed stood an Elf, attending the wound caused by the poisoned arrow. When he noticed Thranduil, he quickly stepped aside and offered his story:
"She was not terribly injured by the arrow; it pierced only flesh, just barely missing the bone. However, the poison greatly affected her, so I had to quickly take the arrow out and apply the medicine. She fainted when the arrow was removed, but I am sure she will be in good condition by tomorrow."
Thranduil peered at the young she-Elf, immediately recognizing her although in such a horrid condition. It had been a long time since he had seen her last at Mithlond and he wondered why she had traveled such distance at such a dangerous time.
"She is indeed one of the Falathrim," declared Thranduil, "Her name is Haemerethwen, she was a warrior of Círdan the Shipwright before he left on the White Ship. However, I do not understand why she has traveled here." Thranduil knotted his brows in confusion, staring at the she-Elf as she slept in peace. "Perhaps we shall find out tomorrow." With this, he walked out of the room, leaving the guard and the other Elf to continue to wonder.
****
Haemerethwen woke the next morning with a tremendous headache. Groaning, she slowly tried to sit up, but was stopped by a sudden pain in her right thigh. Pulling the linen down, she peered at the cloth wrapped around her injury. Confused, she looked around the room, trying to understand where she was. The last she remembered was the awful breath of that goddamned Orc, Thrakdreg, when he laughed at her for being caught. So how did she end up in this room, her injury attended to, and feeling almost healed?
She slowly sank back down under the sheets, cursing her headache and the pain she had caused by moving. She began to hum to soothe her pain, and a minute afterward she heard the door being creaked open. An anxious Elf then appeared beside her bed.
"I was not expecting you to awaken so soon. I am sorry for being so inconsiderate," he confessed. She smiled up at him, glad to see an Elf beside her.
"I take it I am in Eryn Lasgalen. You were not being inconsiderate; I am extremely thankful for your care in my injury, you saved my life." At this, the Elf smiled back. He was glad to see her eyes shining compared to last night's dull glow. 'She must be in great condition to have healed so quickly,' he thought.
"Well, you are quite welcome. Are you in good enough condition to stand up? King Thranduil has asked to see you as soon as you are able."
"I doubt I can walk. I attempted to sit up beforehand without success." The healer then frowned, obviously disappointed that her story would not be told until later.
"More rest would suit you then. I shall apply more medicine and contact you later in the evening." He then unwrapped the cloth surrounding her thigh, applied the ointment, and wrapped it up in fresh cloth.
"Try to get some sleep," he said, "The ointment will help in your pain."
"Thank you, I am sure I will be able to." When the Elf left, Haemerethwen lay back on the bed and began to contemplate the incident that had happened the previous day:
Haemerethwen and her two companions sat upon their horses staring at the beauty of the countryside. It was a brilliant day, the sun was shining against her skin and, for once, she did not feel that usual coldness. Ever since the Orcs had attacked, she had felt their damned evil; slowly, she grew accustomed to its chill forcing its way into her protective soul. It was now just another daily factor, but she was determined to eradicate it for the sake of her sanity, and others'.
She assumed that the lack of the usual chill meant that the band of Orcs that had been following her group since their departure of Mithlond had probably lost their track. She questioned her other companions if they felt less burdened as well and they agreed that they could not feel the presence of the Orcs. She smiled, thankful that perhaps her group's effort to lose the Orcs had succeeded.
It was quickly pointed out that the border of Eryn Lasgalen was approaching and they should reach it by late afternoon. Haemerethwen urged them forward then, eager to breach upon Eryn Lasgalen and finally end her quest.
They traveled late into the afternoon before they entered Eryn Lasgalen; not once had they felt the presence of the Orcs. Now the thick trees shut out the sunlight and the forest floor was almost completely dark. Haemerethwen noted that her companions were not lying about the darkness of the forest. Her happiness slowly depleted in the dark and she began to feel uncomfortable in this unknown area. Her two companions, however, had been in Eryn Lasgalen numerous times and laughed at her uneasiness. She lightened up at their laughter and smiled, but she gripped onto the handle of her axe as they progressed.
Slowly, Haemerethwen began to feel a slight change within the air. It slowly became sharper with their growing steps, increasing in strength and decreasing in warmth. It appeared as if the forest was trying to dispel some hidden force within. The three Elves took notice of the moaning trees as the wind began to whip between their leaves, desperately trying to rid itself of some ailment. The storm grew and the trees cried loudly, beckoning them to aid them in their fearful disposition.
Confused, Haemerethwen looked to her companions in order to understand the situation. However, they appeared to be as fearful and confused as herself. Suddenly, she felt that familiar cold creeping into her soul, challenging her strength. Somehow, the Orcs had reached Eryn Lasgalen before the Elves and hid in the angry trees; by not stirring or speaking, they had eluded the unknowing Elves. Before Haemerethwen could cry out her realization, an arrow shot through the darkness and pierced one of her companions straight through the heart. The stunned Elf gripped the shaft of the arrow that was embedded in his chest and slowly slumped off of his horse, dead before hitting the ground.
Haemerethwen and her other companion quickly clicked their tongues and fled on their horses deeper into The wood. She hardly traveled twenty feet when she felt an intense pain in her right thigh. Shocked, she fell off her horse and hit the ground with a resounding thud. Her companion immediately spun around his horse, determined that he would not allow them to be beaten after traveling such distance. Jumping off his horse, he kneeled down to turn her face up, but before he could touch her he heard the evil cries of the Orcs, who were now jumping down from the trees. They quickly surrounded the two Elves, pointing their scimitars and laughing at their apparent defeat.
Haemerethwen heard their cries and forced herself to her hands and knees, despite the incredible pain she felt in her leg. Looking down, she realized that an arrow was lodged in her flesh and blood was pouring out of the wound. The anger that now coursed through her veins allowed her to stand next to her partner, who looked surprised to see her up. She pulled out her daggers as he pulled out his axe, both threatening the Orcs to attack them.
Immediately, they did. The two Elves were almost overwhelmed by the intensity of the attack: there were three Orcs attacking each Elf. Fighting valiantly, they held off for what seemed forever, but then she heard her companion cry out in pain. Glancing towards him, she found that an arrow had pierced his abdomen. She quickly limped to his side, attacking those that attacked him. However, almost instantly another arrow pierced him, but this time in the chest. He gasped out in his pain, trying to continue to defend himself. Haemerethwen, however, noticed where the archer was located by his last shot and quickly threw her dagger at the Orc. The dagger found its target and the Orc screamed as it fell from the branches above.
Her elven companion by this time could no longer stand, the pain had forced him to succumb and he fell to the ground, coughing up the blood that was leaking into his lungs. She knew that her companion was dying and she realized that she would be in the same position if she didn't find a way to escape. Desperate, Haemerethwen drew her axe and fought off the attacking Orcs, trying to formulate a plan. Suddenly, the Orcs stopped attacking the furious Elf. She slowly turning around, knowing that now it was too late to escape.
Frowning, she looked at the sneering Orc. It was Thrakdreg, the malicious leader of the band of Orcs that had been following her. Ignoring him, she rushed over to her companion, trying to comfort him in his dying moments. This Elf had accompanied her the entire journey from Mithlond and she was furious that she allowed this to happen. Her spite towards the Orcs allowed her to stand up temporarily, but her strength had diminished. The arrow in her leg was poisonous and already her senses were reeling; however, she could not allow herself to surrender.
The Orcs began whooping out in delight at this sight, they desired to see their leader finally annihilate the infuriating Elf. They could tell by her wincing and slouching that the poison had decreased her ability to defend herself and they celebrated the thought of success.
Thrakdreg stepped toward Haemerethwen, who was shivering from the pain that had taken over her body. Again he snickered, realizing that the Elf was now defeated. Haemerethwen raised her axe as she heard him creep closer to her, but she could no longer see where he was. As he placed his face in front of hers, she buckled to her knees, dropping her axe. She lost all sense of consciousness when her body began to fall towards the ground, leaving her in the hands of the Orcs.