Okay, so I really wanted to put this one up as well. You know the drill by
now, these don't belong to me, but to Tolkien. This could be considered an
AU in some ways. Anyways, only thing that belongs to me is the ghost and
the idea.
Even Angels Can Fall
The young woman ran through the deep woods. To any who would have seen her, she would have appeared as if a ghost, in which she was, to a point. Her pale white skin reflected the beams of moonlight that filtered down through the trees. Her fine hair was a rich brown, and her eyes were large and filled with liquid green. She was clothed in thin silk snow-white dress. She seemed as if a maiden on a midnight run, but upon closer examination, you could see the red scars lining her arms and legs and the torn strips of her dress fluttering behind her in the wind. You could see the tears falling down her delicate face. But what was truly unnerving about her was that she some faintly of unearthly light, and the shadows of the land beside her showed through her.
She slowed as she approached a lighted clearing. Walking into the campsite, she slipped past the dwarf that sat on watch. She glided past the others to the old wizard. Beside the old mage slept a halfling, whose sleep was troubled in itself, and seemed to sense her presence for he whimpered ever so slightly.
"Olórin," she whispered.
The wizard did not wake, but seemed to slip into an even deeper sleep as she approached. She smiled sadly through her tears at him, and then turned to the halfling. She knelt beside him, sensing his restlessness.
She stroked his curly brown hair with a pale hand, and then moved to his eyes and check. Wherever she touched skin, it chilled and became icy blue. The halfling's breath slowed and his restless movements stopped as he relaxed under her gentle cold hand. He shivered only once, and the ring that was held upon a chain around his neck glowed softly then turned dark. His breath slowed even more and his body chilled. Gently kissing his cold lips, she let her hands fall from his face.
She pulled away from him, and stood slowly. She then turned and looked out across the group, and then walked silently toward the golden hair elf. His eyes were wide open even in sleep, but he sensed her presence like a whisper of a dream. He shivered at her cold approach, but did not wake. She knelt before him as well, and repeated her actions as she had done with the halfling. She then delicately brushed his lips as well with her's then stood.
She took one last glance at the wizard.
"Remember me, Olórin," she whispered then was gone, as mist vanishes in morning light.
Even Angels Can Fall
The young woman ran through the deep woods. To any who would have seen her, she would have appeared as if a ghost, in which she was, to a point. Her pale white skin reflected the beams of moonlight that filtered down through the trees. Her fine hair was a rich brown, and her eyes were large and filled with liquid green. She was clothed in thin silk snow-white dress. She seemed as if a maiden on a midnight run, but upon closer examination, you could see the red scars lining her arms and legs and the torn strips of her dress fluttering behind her in the wind. You could see the tears falling down her delicate face. But what was truly unnerving about her was that she some faintly of unearthly light, and the shadows of the land beside her showed through her.
She slowed as she approached a lighted clearing. Walking into the campsite, she slipped past the dwarf that sat on watch. She glided past the others to the old wizard. Beside the old mage slept a halfling, whose sleep was troubled in itself, and seemed to sense her presence for he whimpered ever so slightly.
"Olórin," she whispered.
The wizard did not wake, but seemed to slip into an even deeper sleep as she approached. She smiled sadly through her tears at him, and then turned to the halfling. She knelt beside him, sensing his restlessness.
She stroked his curly brown hair with a pale hand, and then moved to his eyes and check. Wherever she touched skin, it chilled and became icy blue. The halfling's breath slowed and his restless movements stopped as he relaxed under her gentle cold hand. He shivered only once, and the ring that was held upon a chain around his neck glowed softly then turned dark. His breath slowed even more and his body chilled. Gently kissing his cold lips, she let her hands fall from his face.
She pulled away from him, and stood slowly. She then turned and looked out across the group, and then walked silently toward the golden hair elf. His eyes were wide open even in sleep, but he sensed her presence like a whisper of a dream. He shivered at her cold approach, but did not wake. She knelt before him as well, and repeated her actions as she had done with the halfling. She then delicately brushed his lips as well with her's then stood.
She took one last glance at the wizard.
"Remember me, Olórin," she whispered then was gone, as mist vanishes in morning light.