Disclaimer: Tolkein is amazing, and I only wish to be half the writer that he is. However, all of these characters, sans a few O/C's which have come up and will come up, are his and his alone. Thank you and I hope that you enjoy!
Prologue: It has come undone
"…Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us - if at all - not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men."
Chaos. Fire spread across the sky and land, the flames dancing sensuously as they consumed everything in their wake. She could hear the moaning and screaming of lost souls that were trapped among the flames. Galadriel found herself running. Where to, she did not know. Up and down melted together with time like molten gold. A perverse red haze lay in every direction, and her only understanding of time coincided with the burning of her muscles. Exhaustion began to cloud her brain. 'Must…find…Finrod.' She thought with a tear. Her brother had disappeared among the flames, along with her Celeborn, Elrond, and Gil-Galad. Lost in her thoughts, she did not see the break in the ground before her. With a cry, Galadriel fell violently to the ground. 'This must be the end.' She thought as she struggled to stand. Flames licked at her golden hair and robes, threatening to overtake her. She could feel the burning heat on her face and body, the acrid smoke choking her as she struggled to orient herself. A blinding pain flashed through her, and fear begin to kick in.
'It shouldn't end like this!'
With that, she gathered all of the strength that she possessed. Sitting up, Galadriel attempted to put weight on her ankle, but the mottled bruising was proof of at least a bad sprain. With a choked cry, she leveled her eyes on the devastation before her. A feeling of overwhelming grief hit the she-elf, and a tear slid down her cheek.
"Aman." The Lady of Lorien choked out. 'I never thought that I'd see the day where Valinor burned like the hellfire of Angband.'
Bitterness washed over her in cruel waves. Lifting her eyes to the heavens, Galadriel started to sing a song of woe. Her beautiful soprano rose above the roar of the fire, its silver tones desperately trying to quell her heartache. As the smoke threatened to smother her, her sensitive elven ears picked up something foreign. It sounded like…a voice? Ignoring the smoke and flames, she craned her head, in search of the mysterious voice. It appeared to be approaching.
"Help!" cried Galadriel, her voice hoarse and dry. She could discern a shadowy figure approaching. Straining her eyes, Galadriel could make out the gleam of silver armor, the flashing of a jewel encrusted sword, and the strength with which the figure approached her. Fire lapped at her feet, and Galadriel gasped. Pain coursed through her body. Still, she remained transfixed on the being.
"Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer –
Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom."
Raven hair flowed like rivers of silk amongst the flames, impervious to the desolation. Flashes of alabaster skin, the High King's crest, and glowing black eyes filled her Galadriel's vision. An icy weight began to fill her body as she heard the voice pick up her song. Rich and powerful, the voice seemed to beat back the fire that surrounded her. 'I know that voice…Elbereth!' Her blue eyes flashed with dread realization. 'It can't be…' The figure stood in front of her, shining brilliantly even amongst the flames. His face was beautiful, even among elven standards. His ebony hair whipped about him like a crown of shadow, and the elf smirked. His eyes bore into her, onyx gems set into an impossibly breathtaking visage. Withdrawing his sword, the elf continued her song of woe.
"Through the mists we are departing, fallen corpses on the ground. Our bodies surrender naught control, our souls will still be bound…my Galadriel, this isn't a very welcoming tune." He purred while running his finger along the edge of his razor sharp blade. It glittered obscenely in the light of the fire. The she-elf narrowed her eyes in defiance.
"Kinslayer!" she growled.
The elf chuckled ominously. "My, how quick you are to judge. I thought that the memory of elves was ageless…you seem to have forgotten your own part in this."
Galadriel stiffened. "I had never cleaned the blood of my kin from my weapon. You have no right to lay blame, son of Finwë."
The elf bristled at this; gliding towards her, he crouched down on one knee, and grasped her chin. Onyx clashed with sapphire.
"Do not say his name in my presence." He hissed. Galadriel remained impassive, except for the fear and anger burning in her eyes.
"Then do not shame it." A deadly whisper escaped from her lips.
The elf wrenched away from her as if she had burnt him. With a cry of anguish, he brandished his sword.
"Foolhardy words, Artanis!" he cried as he swung his blade overhead. His eyes had taken on a hellish light.
"Fëanor, no!" she cried, attempting to shield herself from his strike, but to no avail. The last thing Galadriel remembered was the burning hatred in his eyes as the blade pierced her heart.
"The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men."
xxxxxxxxx
Galadriel awoke with a start, her hand clasped to her chest. She was burning from within, and her skin was damp against the cool night air. Breathing heavily, she pushed off her covers and stepped out of bed. The Lady of Lorien was deeply disturbed. 'What a horrible vision…' she thought as she made her way over to the window. Looking upon her kingdom, the soft lights and beautiful foliage normally calmed her. However, there would be no piece for her tonight. The maddened gaze of Feanor was forever etched into her psyche.
"Melamin…?" Celeborn asked from the bed, sleep creeping into his tired voice. Galadriel turned to face him, worry plaguing her exquisite features.
"It was nothing…just a vision." she murmured.
Celeborn, seeing the distress of his wife, moved quietly over to her. Enfolding her in his arms, he rested his forehead against hers, giving her strength and calming her soul. "It doesn't appear to be nothing." He whispered. Galadriel pulled him closer.
"It matters not, melamin." She murmured.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, causing both elves to stare out of the window. Something was coming; Galadriel could feel it in her bones. 'I must speak to Elrond.' She thought as she gazed upon the clouds forming in the east.
xxxxxxxxxx
At that moment, a child came into Middle-Earth with a great yell. Its mother, weakened from the birth, teetered on the edge of doom. The babe was taken away from its mother with the hope that time alone would allow the Lady to rest. However, after a few minutes of screaming for her child, the baby was returned to the sickly mother. It cooed as it nestled to its mother's bosom. The lady sighed, her strength was nearly gone. She felt death beckoning her like the caress of a loved one. 'Let it be.' she thought somberly.
"…Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone..."
"Goodness Calawen, look at her eyes!" Ingmar, the head midwife, exclaimed.
To the surprise of Calawen and the other midwives, the child's eyes were already open. Fringed by a dusting of thick black lashes, they were deep, dark, and lively, glowing with vigor and intelligence.
"She is so beautiful…" whispered Calawen.
Suddenly, her body was wracked with an unbelievable amount of pain. She coughed, drops of blood spraying with every cough. It was time.
"Call her Noriel!" she gasped with wild eyes as Ingmar took her away. Another sharp pain and Calawen screamed, her cries tearing all those who heard it apart. A red haze filled her vision, and she was lost.
Even after Ingmar shut door to Calawen's bedroom, the pained screams of the new mother echoed throughout the hall. Tears poured down Ignmar's wrinkled face as she rocked the distraught baby. The little girl's distress was palpable as she cried.
"Motherless, you poor little thing." Ingmar murmured.
Soon, the cries from Calawen's room ceased, and the baby wailed louder. Her mother had passed, and all was undone. It was the beginning of the end.
"This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper".
xxxxxxxxxx
Wow, first chapter out of the way! What do you think? It's my first fic, so please be kind. I love constructive criticism of any kind, but I do not consider 'flames' to be constructive. More often than not, they are hurtful. If you really hate it that much, then don't read it.
Post scriptum…the poetry excerpts are from T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men."