A/N: Here it is- the long awaited chapter 11! :D :D :D (Which I'm not actually happy with, although I think the next chapter will be better than this one.) There will be more O.O.C. ness in this chapter, so beware. To recap the author's note that used to be here:
1. I am only going to be working on this story and The Journey of Fire's Song, so hopefully (hopefully) I won't have to go on any more long hiatuses. Updates will be approximately once a week/every other week.
2. Chapters 1-10 have been rewritten- some more than others. There is a new cover that was made on paint, and a drawn cover is coming soon.
3. Starting November 1rst, I will not be writing any fan fiction- at least until December 1rst. I have written a few chapters in addition to this one, so I can update a few times during November, but they probably won't be great quality, since I rushed them a little bit.
4. Don't trust any promises I make regarding fan fiction, because I will very likely not keep them.
5. Please don't kill me.
TWO NEW THINGS:
1. There is a poll on my profile regarding our good friend Mora the Anti-Sue.
2. I have a new website specifically for fan fiction stuff! There is a gallery with pictures of the characters on it. The web address (which can also be found on my profile) is firestormnauralagos . webs . com (without the spaces.)
3. I am making some fairly massive changes to the direction this story is going in- some of which you might not all like. I would really appreciate any constructive* criticism regarding the plot. If there is something that you really don't like, LET ME KNOW; as I said, there are some things that I am not necessarily expecting a great reaction to, so tell me what you don't like and why. Thanks in advance :3
*con·struc·tive
kənˈstrəktiv/
1. serving a useful purpose; tending to build up. (AKA not flames)
And now, please enjoy le chapter! :D
Chapter 11: The Long Expected Chapter
Nimril stared blankly at Rosspen. Rosspen stared blankly back.
"Mora wants me to kill you," the elleth finally stated with a frown. The pegasus gave a little shrug and ruffled her wings.
Do as you must, my lady, Rosspen muttered, although her heart didn't quite seem to be in it. Nimril steeled her resolve, stood up and raised her practice staff- and then lowered it with a sigh. She poked the pegasus with the end of the staff. Rosspen sat still and eyed her owner warily, but didn't move more than a few inches.
"I simply cannot do it," Nimril sighed, tossing her staff to the ground and sat down once again. "This transformation business is far more difficult than I anticipated, Rosspen. It is as though the girl expects a miracle- one that I, unfortunately, am unable to perform." She sighed again. "I suppose …perhaps if I send you elsewhere- and then I do not tell Mara, perhaps she will leave you alone," the Sue mused. "No, I gave my word … I must kill you." She picked up her staff once again, pointed it at the pegasus and shouted, "Avada kedavra*!" Nothing happened.
Er … my lady, I believe you have the wrong story, Rosspen commented.
"Oh … right." The Sue bit her lip. "I'll miss you, Rosspen. You have been good to me, and I regret that this is goodbye." She threw her arms around the mare's neck and hugged her; Rosspen responded by wrapping her wings around her owner.
It is for the greater good, Lady Nimril, she replied gloomily.
"Do not fear, mellon nin. I am sure you will be happy there."
Where?
"Nínion ne gwad lîn, Rosspen of Imladris. Drego." In a shower of pink glitter, Rosspen disappeared. Nimril had no idea where she had sent the pegasus, but hopefully she would be well cared for there. The slightest hint of guilt prodded the Sue's mind, but she ignored it. Violence was never the right answer; it was obviously best for Rosspen to live elsewhere, if she was not permitted to stay in Middle-earth.
"Why so sorrowful, my lady?" a voice purred from nearby. Nimril turned to glance at the speaker. It was that strange Gondorian warrior- Bordomir, or something like that. He was smiling sickeningly at her, and although his grin made her want to shudder, the elleth smiled politely in return.
"I had to say goodbye to a very old friend of mine," she informed him sadly.
"A pity. Such a lovely flower as yourself should never be sorrowful." He reached out to brush his hand against her face, and Nimril turned away from him. "I am sorry; have I offended you?"
"Not at all, good Bordomir, but my grief is still quite close to my heart." Nimril shrugged. "I apologize for my coldness." The man raised an eyebrow.
"Bordomir? My lady, I fear that you have mistaken me for someone else, for I am Boromir of Gondor, son of Denethor." He gave a small bow. The Sue nodded to him.
"Of course. My mistake."
"Is this man bothering you, Lady Nimril? I will defend your honor, if you desire it," Aragorn spoke up, unsheathing his sword with an overly grand flourish.
"Thank you, my Lord Eragon, but he has done nothing to insult me." The Ranger seemed confused.
"Eragon?"
"Did I call you by the wrong name, as well? Oh, dear, I seem to be a bit forgetful of late," the Sue said, flustered.
"My- my lady," Legolas murmured shyly, "...if you tire of these two foolish Men, I would be happy to escort you elsewhere." Nimril gave him a small smile.
"Thank you, Thranduilion, but I am content at the moment."
"And why should she tire of my company? No Man is better than Aragorn, son of Arathorn," the Man in question proclaimed angrily, waving his sword at Legolas, who took several steps back. Nimril frowned as she thought back on her first conversation with the Guardian …
"The Evenstar is in the dungeons! Her lover, the rightful king of Gondor, is fawning over you like you're some kind of goddess!" Aragorn was supposed to love Arwen, not Nimril. This is bad, the Sue thought, watching the Ranger argue with Boromir and Legolas. She should tell Aragorn to leave them alone, that she would never love him. She should send him back to the elleth he truly loved. Nimril stood and opened her mouth to speak. Legolas and Boromir went silent.
"What is it, my lady? I am trying to prove to these buffoons that I am the greatest!" Aragorn said, although beneath his respectful tone was underlying irritation. It would be so easy … she only had to say a few words.
I do not love you. I will never love you. I DO NOT LOVE YOU. Her lips formed the words. She stared straight at the Ranger- but nothing came out. Confused, Nimril tried once again to speak. I do not love you. I will never love you. It was as though someone had coated her tongue with sawdust … she found that it was impossible to speak.
"I … I need a moment alone," the Sue finally stammered. She turned and dashed away from the three.
"Oh, my … I believe our quarrel has upset her," she faintly heard Legolas inform the others. That wasn't it at all … why couldn't I say those five simple words?
-V-
Nimril was surprised when she was contacted by Mora that night. Usually the Guardian would refuse to speak with the Sue unless Nimril cast the spell, and so when Mora's voice cut into the air, the elleth jumped in surprise.
"Did you kill it?"
"Y-yes." The lie rolled easily off her tongue; usually Nimril preferred the truth to falsehoods, but she had always been a fast learner.
"Good." Mora sounded satisfied; perhaps she couldn't really tell that Rosspen still lived, or maybe she was just too tired to check. The Guardian sounded absolutely exhausted.
"Are you well, Miss Maria?"
"Yes, I'm fine, not that you'd care," the Guardian replied harshly. "Tomorrow, you tell your other three pets to leave and never come back again; no one can tame a damn snow leopard to let it ride her, so it needs to go." She cut the connection.
"Very well," Nimril sighed, even though Mora could no longer hear her. At least Helchien, Gwaeren and Helegion would still be in Middle-earth ...
*The author has been reading too much Harry Potter fan fiction lately, and it seems to be influencing her writing.
Elvish translations:
Nínion ne gwad lîn- I cry upon your leaving
Drego- flee/go
