Kenobi
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Disclaimer:
I do not have the priviledge of owning the majority of these
characters.
Although one is mine.
And of course there are *spoilers* if
you have never read the books.
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Legolas brought up the rear of the small company as they journeyed to join a neighboring group. In his arms was Pippin who struggled to stay awake. He wondered when was the last time he, himself, had a moment of rest. Perhaps that was the reason he was so uneasy.
He eyed the noisy men with annoyance. He was uncommonly nervous about this many moving in the otherwise silent darkness. He had more than once jarred his hobbit friend awake by quickly stopping and looking over his shoulder or shifting to finger his bow.
He didn't like how everything was going so well after the doom that had befallen Middle-earth. He hadn't seen or heard any orcs or other abominable creatures of the dark one. The fact that they had all been moved to safety by the aid of these small helpers who claim to be sent from the great ones was almost too good to be true, too perfect. It was all too unnerving. He was almost anticipating the end of their good favor. Something-even something as small as a couple to orcs- was bound to happen. And if it didn't then that is what made Legolas worry.
The rest up ahead began to speak in low voices with new welcoming ones.
"Pippin," he shook his friend lightly.
"Are we there?" he asked through a yawn.
"Yes."
He approached the camp slowly and set the hobbit down in what he hoped was a safe environment. Legolas searched the faces of the ones in this new group. He longed for another familiar face among the men of Gondor. But there was no Aragorn, no Gandalf, and no Gimli whose company he missed greatly.
He turned in the direction where it came from. He was surprised to find a greatly injured man lying on a bloody blanket. For a moment he didn't recognize the soiled and beaten face of the man, but the fair eyes brought to him a small memory.
"Lord Imrahil," he fell on a knee beside the great prince. Legolas was sure not to let his pity show as he saw all the damage done to his elvish face and body.
"Tell me, has the king found us?"
Legolas shook his head, "Nay, but it is still early," He didn't let the prince in on his doubts and earlier insecurities about the whole state of things.
Imrahil closed his eyes. His breath was terribly audible. He would cough loudly from time to time after endless wheezes. Legolas lowered his eyes to see precisely where the formidable man was hurt so severely. The once white cloths around his torso where many and heavily stained with crimson. He couldn't make any assumption.
"Tell me of your kingdom, for I know that you yourself are similar to me in station."
Legolas was briefly startled by the sudden question. "Yes, I too am the son of a king, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood."
"Mirkwood, Mirkwood..," he mumbled while shuffling through his memories. "Tis a place that holds dark meaning."
"Unfortunately, you are correct. My people have struggled with darkness in our area-"
Legolas was about to continue when a loud voice demanding attention interrupted his words.
"Hear me survivors of the great battle. Another group is close, though the leaders send word not to move our company yet. They do command that any from 'the fellowship' to come with me."
Legolas quickly said: "My apologies, we must continue our talk later."
The man smiled with much effort at the elf. "Return soon to tell me what our king has said."
The elf marveled at his faith in the return of the king, and scolded his own mind for now having the same. However, the absence of faith and caution are two different things. He stood.
"I am from the fellowship, as well as this hobbit," he pointed to Pippin who was again in a discussion with the small creatures.
"Then make haste, they are engaged in a debate that could use the voices of such diverse people." The man didn't wait for a reply. He turned and dashing into the dark from where he came.
"Come, Pippin."
His steps were hindered by the small hand of the hobbit on his cloak.
"Legolas, do you think that it might be all the others?"
The elf looked down on his friend with pity in his eyes, but he didn't answer.
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"We are close, very close, my lady."
Arwen opened her eyes from a short rest and focused on Manëdur . He sat a foot away on a rock and appeared to have been watching her for a while. She looked into his perfectly shaped eyes, and a brief shiver went through her. She couldn't help but feel that there was something he was silently trying to tell her. She had been traveling with Manëdur for some time now and still she felt uncomfortable around him. Especially when he stared at her, even when she gazed back, he would not look away. Arwen concluded before that it must be some attribute of his race, though if it was then it was a disturbing one.
"Yes, of course," she replied and slowly began to get to her feet. Leaning over, she retrieved the few berries left from her last meal, and stored them in a small pouch.
"How feel you today, lady Arwen?" he asked as soon as they began again in a direction.
Arwen wondered if it was actually a different day. So far she was not able to discern day from night. "If it is another day then I can say that I feel like I've always had, except I am now a little more rested."
"Do you dream when you rest?"
"As of late, I am void of any dreams."
There was a long pause before he spoke again. "I dream. I see you in my dreams most often, lady Arwen. Always in my dreams."
Arwen was sure that he never slept in any form of the meaning. He was always alert and thoughtful when she was awake.
He would say such phrases often. They were small seemingly meaningless sentences, never ceasing to be somewhat mysterious in their content. She was grateful for his company, but there was the growing feeling inside of her that something wasn't right.
She pushed the suspicion from her mind as she had a couple times before and focused on where they were. But there too, was something that baffled her. It was always dark, but Arwen could tell that there was something odd about her surroundings. Had she traveled on foot through this area before? That bend and that tree were hauntingly familiar. The sounds even the smells spoke of the past, the recent past. There was not an area surrounding Rivendell that her foot had not touched, though this would hardly cause such an unnerving reaction in her. Arwen froze. The weight of it all on her mind was too much for her to ignore it any longer. She waited, clearing away other thoughts.
Like a flash in this never-ending darkness she was able to understand the sinking feeling that was following her.
"We're going in circles," Arwen finally concluded. "You have been leading me nowhere."
Manëdur turned and stared at her knowingly and unapologetic.
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Frodo had begun to pace slowly across the length of his room and stare at the floor while waiting for the winged woman to return. Nafeatir had been gone for while and any methods of escape would take time. He wasn't sure of what his rescuer had in mind, but as time went on he doubted she could accomplish anything if she didn't hasten. Perhaps it was a plan his mind couldn't grasp, though certainly he could not grow wings and shrink as she.
He sighed and sat on the corner of his bed, trying to purge his mind of worries and calm himself. He ran his hand over the soft designs on the bed. His mind turned to the woman who had given this and everything else in the room to him. Earlier he had finally said a few words to the sorceress. Her reply assured him of her black and confused heart. All he was to her was a possession, a pet, something new to amuse herself with. He had to keep reminding himself of this fact or else he would begin to feel almost grateful to her for all that she had done for him.
"How long has she kept you here?"
Frodo jumped at the familiar interruption. A small light soon came into his line of vision. She stopped in front of him and laughed.
"Greetings young prince," she bowed low and smiled brightly at him. "I hope I have not kept you waiting."
"I-I can't remember how long ago it was. It feels like an eternity, yet it feels like only yesterday I was home," Frodo replied to her previous question. He blinked and looked away from the small being. "Why does she keep me here? I don't understand. I-." He stopped thinking he was just babbling aloud his thoughts. If he was simply some pet to her then he wasn't a very satisfying one. How long till she grows tried of his constant resisting, and she does away with him in some way?
"Nafeatir has always been confusing. I do not wish to see you be with her any longer. She is a deceiver and a betrayer. Come, follow me."
She swiftly flew into Nafeatir's room before Frodo had a chance to even get up. He sighed and was about to get up when something stopped him. Something was warning him to be wary. Frodo looked around his room for any sign of an enemy or of Nafeatir, but there was none. He shook his head, and entered the room to find that she had changed into her human-sized form. She stood inspecting the art and other articles on the walls.
"Tell me, what are you called? And what precisely are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Frodo asked.
There was a long pause that made him nervous. All the sudden something had changed in the air between him and his mysterious rescuer.
"I am Morghue, a leader among my kind, a Queen. I have many who are gathering beneath me. I knew your mistress when all was different, when Melkor was still the Dark Lord, and when his voice planted small seeds of freedom in many."
She paused and approached a wall where there were several blades arranged in a pattern. She brushed her long fingers across their smooth sides.
"The words of Melkor affected those who heard in various ways. Some rebelled against each other, while others took it in and had it fester within themselves in silence. Those who rebelled against the great ones left for this land while the higher ones were left, doomed to be bodiless and quiet in their revelations. There were some of the bodiless who returned to their old way of thinking, finding some favor with the Highest Lords and Ladies, and then there were some who waited...till now."
She turned to face him.
"The mindless ones are helping your allies, but the ones who tasted the freedom Melkor had boasted are also wandering the lands and they care not for the children of Iluvatar, nor for the servants of Sauron who left us also."
Frodo stared with curiosity at the female called Morghue as she spoke of happenings very foreign to him. History that was long before any history he had studied. The path behind the elves he knew very little of, though he was able to grasp the basic concept of what she was saying. He guessed that this 'freedom' was probably discord and rebellion. He'd seen the creeping ways of evil. He knew of its small and quiet at first. Whoever were these 'bodiless' ones, they must have suffered by turning their ears to the dark one.
"I knew Nafeatir well. She left with the others of the first born. We never had love for each other before her departure. Nothing has changed."
A moment passed before something happened. She lunged at him without a warning, her long nails aimed at his face. Frodo was able to avert her only slightly. The pain on the side of cheek told him that she had nipped him. He didn't move quickly enough, nor did he distance himself adequately. She slammed his body back against the wall behind him. He felt her calm breath against his cold cheek. Her eyes looked down on him indifferently.
"And I hated her kind, her master, her fortune. Although how fortunate for me to be blessed with this body now."
Frodo was weak from his lack of mobility and proper nutrition, but he would not let her get the best of him. He shoved back on her, allowing him sufficient space to scramble away.
"You said you would help me? If you are her enemy then why do you attack one who is also her enemy?"
She laughed as she slowly made her way closer and closer to him.
"Because she never had any great weaknesses."
Frodo quickly dashed for the wall with the many weapons and plucked off a spear. From the increase in her laughter he must've looked as silly as he felt.
"Oh, yes, the great Nafeatir never had a weakness," she stopped inches away from the weapon he pointed in her direction. "Till now."
An instant later she was simply gone from sight. Frodo's mind blinked for a second only before he began swinging the spear around his area. A scream came from his left where he had just swung the tip. He looked over just in time to see her hand dangerously close to his face. She struck him hard, her nails digging across his face before the blow knocked him on the ground. He was surprised at her strength, she looked thin, almost wiry.
"Quite admirable," she muttered while she inspected the gash on her upper arm.
Frodo didn't wait to see what else she would do. He tried to stand, but slipped. He heard her approaching so he aimlessly scrambled back away from her footsteps.
"Oh, come, come now little prince, will you not continue the fight? I find it most entertaining." Morghue reached down and gripped the front of his tunic. She lifted him somewhat before tossing him through the doors that lead to Nafeatir's balcony. Frodo cried out in pain at the impact with the doors (doors that were locked before Morghue used him as a battering ram) and with the stone balcony. He curled up into a fetal position, his hand trying to feel the damage done to his back. He felt heat and blood.
For a moment Frodo wondered why he even tried to struggle with the female. This is what he longed for. He longed for a way out. Perhaps it was the unusual direction this was all taking. He was merely being used as a tool of vengeance or something like it-ancient competition maybe?
Frodo's thoughts were interrupted when she seized him again. She gathered his wrists in one hand as she pushed him downward. She straddled his stomach, pressing her weight against him to cease the small fight in him.
"Too quick to trust, little male. I suppose that is what she finds intriguing about you. Not only do you look naive and stainless, but you really are," she paused and stared at his face. Frodo could do nothing but look back at her unreadable eyes.
"Perhaps I should bind you and have you gradually bleed to death. Your blood staining your mistress' chambers. Or I could toss you off the edge having her look for you fruitlessly for hours till finally she finds your shattered body on the rocks below," she paused to almost gently caress his face with her fingers. "No, I believe, I'll divide you into several pieces. The witch will have to search her chambers to find all the parts. But first," she halted her talk of death to lean closer to his face. She softly touched her lips to the four open wounds on his face. She kissed the blood covering his cheek, and tasted it on her tongue. "First I'll explore the reasons why she is fascinated by you."
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Nafeatir exited her master's chambers, his words still echoing in her mind.
"The price of that halfling might increase.." he had said. It was almost completely off the subject. They were discussing way for him to experience having physical shape again. Then in the midst of this he warned her about a new cost. Would he take Frodo away from her anyway? He had the ring after all, he didn't need to keep her happy. Sauron didn't need her.
"But I need him," she said referring to Frodo. She hastened her steps to her chambers where her hobbit was. The possibility of losing him causing her to ache for him more.
She wondered how high Sauron would raise the price. How much higher can it be after the first one was the very ring of power?
She hugged the small chest in her arms closer to herself. Within it were a few more personal gifts she intended to give to Frodo. She smiled at the improvement he was making. He had spoken to her after so many days of silence. Before that he had allowed her to tell him a tale while holding him (after overcoming him a little). She hoped that the familiarity of one of the presents inside would also get a satisfactory reaction out of the passive hobbit.
By the time she was before the door to her room she could feel that something was not right within. Her pleasant thoughts of Frodo were quickly transformed to worry and horror. Through the doors she could easily hear sounds of movement or struggle.
Nafeatir dropped the box in her hands and threw open the door. She saw the evidence of a fight; an abandoned spear, and a few droplets of blood. She drew her dagger as she entered. Nafeatir then saw the balcony doors wide open.
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"You don't deny it?" Arwen asked.
Manëdur didn't answer he simply stared at her. Arwen was about to demand that he speak when he began to glow more intensly. The light grew and grew till he had again transformed into the normal size of an elf. He then seized her hand and fell on one knee.
"I cannot bear to see your beauty fade. Why waste your immortality of yours on a simple man? Come with me, Beloved Arwen, for I share in your gift of eternity, and I adore you dearly."
Before he could continue she withdrew her hand from his grasp and stepped back. "How dare you speak of my betrothed in such a manner. Have you any royal heritage? Do you have a task set out before you from your ancestors, a task that will ultimately lead to a kingdom? No, I say you have none of these, and least of all you do not have my heart. Only one man has that."
"I am of a noble race, my lady. Sent from those across the sea. I share your immort-"
"You know this, but little more do you know of your own existance." Arwen had noticed from the beginning that he would never pursue a talk about his origin with ease.
Silence fell between them. He appeared to be holding on to some hope as he searched her face for any return of his feelings.
"Very well," he said at long last, "then you refuse my affections. You assume that I am but a lowly servant, but you are mistaken. If you believe that I am not worthy to touch you then no one is," with that his face made such a dramatic shift that Arwen gasped. It went from desperate, perhaps sincere, proclamation of love to determined anger. The glow around him returned and multiplied within seconds. Arwen turned her head away to shield her eyes from the intensity of the brightness. She heard his voice cry out or yell unknown words, for a few more lingering seconds before she was thrown to the ground by something, and then she knew no more but blackness.
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A/N
This has got to be the most difficult chapter that I have written, and I really have no clue why. I apologize for the wait. As I have said before I was away with no access to a computer, and when I finally got home I came home to this chapter..Hopefully my future additions won't be so troublesome for me. I again apologize for all the inconvenience.
