Thorin-3 Fili-3 Kili-1 Dwalin-1, that's how the votes stand at the mo. Thank you to guest for suggesting Thorin and Zedzie for saying Fili-no matter what you say, you know me too well… ;) I am SO sorry for not updating in a while, but instead of begging your forgiveness as I know I should, I will just get on with the chapter, sorry if it's a bit jumpy, but I was a bit impatient and this was the best way I could think of doing this. I really AM sorry though… :\
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Kalira had been accepted by the citizens of Minas Tirith within a matter of months, if not before then. She was now adored by everyone, much to her advantage; she couldn't go anywhere without being given food or at the very least, a warm hug from every other person. Also, no one ever suspected her to have been the executer of her many pranks. Hmm… their loss.
6 months passed- she turned 7, much to the excitement of seemingly everyone, and was introduced to her 'grandparents' on her 'mother's' side. She had gone to Rohan for 3 weeks, met Eomer, Theodred and, Theoden and charmed them all instantly, much to their annoyance; they found it impossible to say no to her. TeeHeeHee…
1 year went by- the winter festival in the fortress city was a force to be reckoned with. Lights decked every shop and inn, lanterns decorated the wall walkways, Kalira decided that it was her new favourite time of the year, it was just so happy. There had been a few official visits, one from the men of Harondor and another from the men of Minhiriath, but they had left after not very long. That was fine by her, she still had one of each of their arrows in her quiver…
3 years gone- she was now 9, the age where boys her age started basic weapons training. Seeing as she had already practised for years, she was eventually allowed to attend the training sessions instead of learning how to sew, apparently, she took after Eowyn like that… She excelled in these lessons and could soon have even the toughest of the lads pinned to the floor by his sleeves in a matter of moments, an achievement that she was much talked about for. She even had a boy… ask-her-out. She had said no, that she was too young. Jiam -the boy- looked so heart broken that she promised that it was nothing to do with him, she just wasn't old enough yet. Mmm… Mistake made.
Now 5 years had passed- it seemed like only a few months to the now 11-year-old Kalira. She was quite beautiful, with stunning green and purple eyes and waist length loosely curly red hair (it grew very quickly, and she adamantly refused to have it cut). It wasn't only Jiam who was asking her out now, it seemed to be half of the training academy. She was the only girl there, but still… yeesh. After what she had said to Jaim all of those years ago, it now seemed a game of timing among the boys to see when she considered herself old enough. And so it continued all the way up until her 17th birthday…
It had been a week since she had turned 17 and she was (in the boys' eyes) exceptionally pretty, even though she was at least a foot shorter than them and still looked about 12. She could fight, had the temper of a wet fox with a head cold, sass enough to make her as endearing as she was infuriating, and was 'a lady with the vocabulary of a well-educated sailor'. She was perfect… She had managed to hands down become the youngest and first female Citadel High-Warden, a title fairly-and-squarely won in front of the entire existing guard. Until she also revealed that he had no interest in men. Bummer. Not that that put the boys off asking. It was getting really quite irritating for Kalira, who seemed to constantly have a small entourage following her everywhere.
She decided to let nature take its natural course and let the boys marry and the like… she knew that she would live for much longer than them. And she was right. At 68, she also became the oldest Citadel High-Warden, and she was as good as she had ever been. Seemingly, she had the perfect life- she looked 25, was still the most stunning woman in the city (Arwen wasn't there yet, and neither was Aragorn), could fight her way out of anything that she couldn't simply talk her way out of… but there was one problem. One MAJOR problem.
Eowyn was dying.
She was 83, a magnificent age for anyone to reach. But Kalira didn't want to lose anyone else. Denathor had died when she was 46, Boromir had died only a couple of years ago, and although she wasn't so close to them, Theoden had died when she was 51, Theodred when she was 18 (he had been slain in battle), Eomer when she was 63… And she couldn't stand the idea of losing her mother too, it would all just be too much. Not only that, but that would also make her the Queen of Rohan, Eowyn had named Kalira her successor. And she was definitely not ready for that responsibility. She would give the responsibility to Eomer's son, Eowor. He was only a child when Eomer had died, but he was 19 now, young, but not oddly so.
Eowyn had been diagnosed with a liver infection in the May, but they had been unable to cure it. It pained Kalira to see her mother like this, frail and sunken, pale even against the starched white sheets.
It was the September now. September 14th to be exact. It was the day that Eowyn died.
Kalira had been there with her to the end, she had been there when Eowyn had taken her final breath, when she had closed her eyes for the last time. Silent tears were streaming down her face continuously, even hours afterwards. She hadn't had the strength or the will to return to her post at the Citadel. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to see anyone. She did want her mother back. She longed for it to be like old times.
She didn't want anyone to see her like this.
She had always worked so hard to maintain an aura of calm, of wisdom, of strength. She had stayed strong and seemingly impassive for all of her 'adult' life. She had built her walls high and strong; as impassable as the city's. But now they crumbled. They came tumbling down as her tears did; constant and seemingly from an endless supply. So she crouched, cowering and broken in the forgotten corner of the Nightingale Tower where the scrolls were kept, and wept tears of pure sorrow and loss and bitterness until night fell and the tears would come no more. So instead, she sat, and she stared at the window, and she watched the flecks of dust pass in and out of the moon's rays, unsure of what to do with herself, dreaming of happier times, longing for them to still be there, rather than this cold emptiness that she felt, deep in her stomach and her heart.
There was no feeling now. No sadness. No anger. No joy. Nothing. Nothing apart from the darkness and the emptiness in her soul. And so, this shadow of the once happy, jovial, and bouncy Kalira, drifted into an uneasy and restless sleep as the dead Queen was laid to rest…
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Oops… I guess. :C :/ :S Okay. Sorry sorry! But hey! Be proud of me! That was my first ever death scene right there (Not including when Tiala has a dead replicate made of her in I didn't mean to come here, I didn't mean to stay… because she doesn't actually die). I hope that it was satisfactory and please take it as an apology. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I had to kill SOMEONE OK? Not my fault. Well… maybe it is but who cares… Right? BYE