Hi guys!
Before starting I want to thank Celridel for her help in this story, also I want to thank d'elfe and DuckingCute for their encouraging reviews.
So, in the last chapter we were witnesses of the moment when Death separate the lovers. We all were witnesses of the terrible end of Lord Glorfindel but what about Laura?
Waiting for your reviews, guys!
Chapter 71: Against All Odds
FA 520: The Havens of Sirion
"I wonder what will become of her?"
The King and Queen of the Lothlim stood in the white breakers, so close their shadows were like one. The sea surrounded them, invaded every sense. The sharp salty smell of the air, the vastness of the horizons bounded only by the sky, the tug of foaming water around their ankles, the endless lapping of water on the sandy shore. Dolphins sometimes swam nearby, leaping through the waves like silvery spears.
Tuor looked at Idril, and she was still beautiful, as fair as the sun and as lovely as the moon and brighter than the stars. "She has gone to find the Fate of Men, Idril," he said gently. "Beyond the circles of this world."
Flashback
They were near to the Land of the Willows now, and the river-sense was heavy in the low-land air, but so was the sense of danger.
Of the eight hundred or so that had escaped Gondolin unscathed, less than six hundred remained. Everywhere they went, the works of the Unnamed One was seen. Green things fell sick and rotted, and rivers were choked with weeds and slime, and fens were made, rank and poisonous, the breeding place of flies and fevers; and forests grew dark and perilous, the haunts of fear; and beasts became monsters of horn and ivory.
Tuor whistled softly, beckoning to Egnor, a Swallow that had survived. The dark-haired Elf was slim and sparely built but moved faster than Tuor could believe. "We are going scouting," he said.
Egnor shrugged and laid down his water-skin.
"I will go," the woman said, standing up. Her eyes were pale and blank.
Tuor shook his head. "You will stay, Laura Kinney."
"We all have to leave sometime," she answered softly.
Tuor ignored her, and followed Egnor into the underbrush, intending to circle around and come upon the Orc party from behind. They found it was far more than a hunting party. It was a cadre, handpicked by Morgoth to seek out the survivors of Gondolin: Orcs with eyes of yellow and green, who could take scents moons old and find among shingle footsteps that had passed a lifetime since.
Wisps of mist stirred around them as Egnor and Tuor lay hidden, watching the Orcs.
Then Egnor put an elbow in the man's ribs, pointing. Out of the rising mist, Laura came running, her claws drawn, slamming into the Orc cadre in a whirlwind of blood and black.
Tuor sprang to his feet, but Egnor pulled him back down, slamming him into the wet woodland floor. "She is dead. And soon we will be," he hissed. Around them, the mist thickened to an impenetrable white, cutting off all sight of Laura and their foes, although the sounds of slaughter continued. "This mist is a gift from the Deep-Lord. Now we must go!"
Tuor looked one more time and he thought he saw a curved blade fall hard and knew he heard hoarse brays of triumph.
End of flashback
"Perhaps," the Princess said.
Tuor smiled and kissed her hands. "I know when my wife is unconvinced."
Idril smiled back. "The mist was a gift from the Deep-Dweller. Perhaps it brought things other than safety. The ways of the West are not ours to question or to understand." She looked out to the beach when a golden-haired boy gathered seashells. "Who are we to reason with the gods? Will what is molded say to its molder, 'Why have you made me like this?'"
"I love you, Idril," Tuor said. "Although rarely do I understand you. But I hope whatever you are thinking comes to pass."
The Queen smiled and laid her head on her husband's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat of the man that was her life. "As do I," she whispered.
Eighteen Years Later…
The figure materialized from the dark forest, a lean shape clad and masked with black. Filtering moonlight looked down on the short struggle between her and the marauding band of Orcs.
An Orc with an axe loomed up in front of the woman, swinging with both hands as he howled in wordless fury. The woman slid under the blade, pushing close to gut him with the jetty blades that emanated from her gloved hands. She spun and slashed at the one behind her even as its rusty dirk caught her below the breast. She drove her blades home and let him drown in his own blood. A hand seized her braid from behind, but she ducked the ponderous blow and gutted the last Orc.
Then, her blades were hidden again with a sharp metallic clang. She stepped over the corpses and asked the woman huddled against the tree trunk. "Is everyone fine?"
The woman nodded mutely, holding her children close.
"There a village over there. You should go that way unless you want to find yourself in something's belly," the woman said, her voice cold and toneless. She gestured towards the North.
"Thank you," the mother whispered. "How should I repay you?"
"You can't," the woman flashed back. Her green eyes glittered in the pale moonlight.
"Then who should I thank?"
"You can thank Mortissë," the green-eyed woman said and melted into the forest night.
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