Hi people!

So, here's the last chapter of this story as well as the end of Laura's adventures during the First Age.

What will become of her?

I want to thank Celridel for her immense help in editing this whole story as well as thanking the encouraging reviews I've received.

And now... let's go for the epilogue!


Chapter 8: Epilogue

She stood alone on the stony cliff, muscles shocked into stillness, staring out at the sea. White breakers plumed out in foam, and she could taste the salt spray on her lips. The lonely crag she stood on was all that was left off once-great Beleriand. Gondolin was drowned beneath the waves. So was the Echoriath, Ossiriand, Brethil, Dorthonion. Now all that remained was Lindon, a few scattered island, and a boundless ocean that stretched in front of her, racing onwards to meet the horizon.

Shock and shame hammered through Laura's heart. She had wanted to go back to Gondolin, try to rediscover herself, find the woman that Glorfindel had loved. She had felt herself changing over the years, a devolution whose bitter denouement had been when she had tried to kill Maglor. The Elf had escaped, but it seemed X-23 had also escaped whatever cell Glorfindel had placed her in. The bloodlust, the vicious way she fought, how she had wanted to kill Maglor...no, torture him until he screamed for death. He had been the instrument, if not the orchestrator of the kiddos' orphaning, but that did not excuse her bellicose desires.

Glorfindel had called her a 'kind woman', once upon a time. Now she was not kind. Maybe not even a woman. She was an abomination, standing madder than Fëanor.

Laura began to scream into the empty air, wordless primal screams full of despair and helpless anger. As if the water had washed away the last part of her, and now she drowned in an ocean of fury and fear.

She screamed into she was hoarse, and her voice splintered, and then she fell to her knees, her tears flooding the lichen-splotched granite.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, holding her head in both hands. "I can't do this anymore!" she repeated, sitting up and shouting out at the sea. "I can't do this! I'm not going to be an assassin again! I'm not a fucking killer puppet!"

The sea crashed and rolled, calm with the assurance of complete power. Laura felt that the last of her strength had been expended. She leaned down until her forehead touched the rock. It felt good against her feverish skin and she breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.

Something cool landed on the back of her neck. She reached around to feel what it was, hissing through her teeth, "If one of your gulls shit on me, I'm done."

It was rain though. It reached down for her with cool, silver fingers and all the ocean seemed to dance. It was gentle, silent, almost like an elegy, and she thought it fit her mood. It arranged a sweet pattern on her skin, brought a steadiness to her soul. Hot rage and despair pulsed out of her joined the sacred rain that puddled in the crannies and crevasses. With it came a resigned understanding. She had to keep going. Her duty was not yet done, for there were other evils. Morgoth's lieutenant, for one. Mairon Gorthaur, who had adopted a fair form to charm Eönwë. It was hard to believe he had returned docilely to Valinor to receive judgment. The Bat, whose true name she had never heard, but had seen her during the War of Wrath, a woman in ragged white, beating the air with leathery wings, swooping down to snatch up foes like a hawk pounces on a rabbit. Morgoth had fostered dark spawn in his strongholds and destroying Angband had only unleashed it onto the world.

The rain streamed down her cheeks like tears, beating a quiet percussion on rock and wave. It glinted on the bracelet Elrond had given her, magnifying the pebbles he had studded it with, river-rolled smooth, greens and whites and pale pinks. She began to cry again, loneliness clutching at her heart like a hand squeezing a grape.

Something nuzzled at her head, chewing thoughtfully on her braid. Laura reached around, trying to shoo it away, and her hand found soft fur. She turned and her breath caught in her throat.

Black eyes gazed back at her. Viento Nocturno stood there, spirited and splendid, her mane and coat the rich velvet of a summer night, as strong and healthy as when Laura had last seen her.

She sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms around the mare's neck, sobbing into the ebony pelt.

"Thank you," she whispered to the ocean. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

The mare nuzzled her and Laura ran her hands over Viento Nocturno's back, noticing the thin saddle and bridle. That was good. She could ride bareback but was better with tack.

A weathered piece of parchment peered from the saddlebags. She slipped it out and read it through a mist of tears, recognizing the handwriting. The ink was old and fading, the edges of the parchment burned, but it was still readable. She read it out loud, the sea and the rain and her mare the only audience.

"'Remember that night,

White steps in the moonlight

They walked here too,

Through empty playground

This ghost town.

Children again,

On rusting swings getting higher,

Sharing a dream,

On an island, it felt right.

We lay side by side,

Between the Moon and the tide,

Mapping the stars for a while.

Let the night surround you,

We're halfway through the stars

Ebb and flow, let it go,

Feel her warmth beside you.

Remember that night,

The warmth and the laughter,

Candles burnt,

Though the place was deserted

At dawn, we went down

Through empty streets through the harbor,

Dreamers may leave but they are here ever after.

Let the night surround you,

We're halfway through the stars

Ebb and flow, let it go,

Feel her warmth beside you.'"

Pain filled her heart, the aching emptiness of loss, but there was something in those words, that a golden heart had written, that alleviated the anguish, like a tender hand laying a cold cloth on her fevered brow. She closed her eyes, swallowed, and then turned to Viento Nocturno.

"Let's go, amigo," she said. "Like the say, too much to do, not enough time. But we're going to pay the kiddos a visit anyway. You'll really like them, I promise."

The rain parted for them like a silver curtain as they went East, towards Lindon.


Thanks to all the readers of this story as well as thanks to all the people who left their reviews which they were always welcomed as well as encouraging.

This is the first book of Laura's adventures througout the Three Ages and the first years of the Fourth Age. I'm already working in the second book of this story which name is: 'The story never told before. Book 2: Tempering of the Blade'.

Also I'm going to post an old story that I wrote with the help of Celridel's editions which name is 'Hope in the strangest places'. It's related with another story I posted named 'An unsimple tale' which is about the adventures of Kitty Pryde AKA Shadowcat during the War of the Ring.

Waiting for your reviews, guys! And again thanks to all the readers and reviewers! See you soon in the story 'Hope in the strangest places' and 'The story never told before. Book 2: Tempering of the Blade'.