A/N: Tada! Nice new chapter. Kinda depressing (sorry!) but things will cheer up soon, promise. And I wish to say thank you to all the kind people who have reviewed! =o) Oh! And let me take a moment to explain the time.
I already said it was pre-LotR, but now I have a set date. This is all happening in the year 3017, Shire Reckoning. The council of Elrond is in the year 3018, and the Ring is destroyed in the year 3019, for those who don't know they're timelines.
And one more thing - In this chapter Luingil calls Aiwë 'Gil-iell' which means Star-daughter in Sindarin. This is another of Aiwë's nicknames, but this one was from her father, because Aiwë would always stare at the stars when she was little. (Actually, she still does that.) Okay, I know that was long, but here's the story! **AS**
~*Love Never Loses Hope*~
Chapter 9: Shadow
"We need a boat."
Aiwë rolled her eyes. "Do you enjoy stating the obvious?"
"Perhaps," Luingil grinned.
Aiwë sighed and turned her attention back to their problem. They had reached the feet of the Emyn Muil and were searching for a way to cross the River. The Emyn Muil was a chain of trackless mountains that led to a vast marsh, rightly named the Dead Marshes. It was true you could reach Minas Tirith this way, but it required a lot of skill and even more luck. Aiwë sighed and glanced to the West bank. There green hills rolled on, providing soft, easy going. But how to reach them was another matter.
"We really need a boat."
Aiwë tried not to throw her brother in the River. Suddenly she stiffened, a sound reaching her ears.
"Rusc, do you hear that?" she hissed.
Luingil cocked his head and thought he could hear snuffling and muttering, interspersed with a strange gollum noise. "Whatever it is, it draws near," he whispered, lifting his bow.
"Come, let us see what it is," Aiwë whispered. She had no weapons, but she somehow felt she would not need any.
The two Elves crept forward noiselessly until their quarry came into view. A man dressed in travel-stained clothes was striding towards them, a strange creature hobbling beside him, a rope collar around its neck. The creature was obviously the man's prisoner and kept muttering and making noises. If it had not been for the creature, the Elves probably would not have heard the man passing. Which gives him something to his credit, Luingil thought, drawing his bow, arrow ready.
The man was about to walk by the Elves, who were concealed behind a rock, when Luingil rose to his feet. "Halt! Who are you and what is your business?"
The man spun to face them, a hand on his sword hilt. Seeing Luingil, the man relaxed. "Come, Luingil, have I changed that much?"
The Elf squinted. "Strider?" he said incredulously.
The man grinned. "Well met, Luingil."
Luingil leapt off the rock and ran to the man, and Aiwë saw that the creature shrank away from her brother.
"Strider! It has indeed been a long time!" Luingil laughed, slapping his friend on the shoulder. "What are you doing out here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Strider laughed. "As for me, Mithrandir sent me to catch this miserable creature and take him to Thranduil. The Elven-king is supposed to keep this creature as his prisoner."
Luingil looked at the creature and it hissed and shrank back even more. "Nasssty Elf! Nasssty Elf with bright eyess! Gollum!"
Strider jerked the rope slightly. "Hold your tongue, Gollum," he said fiercely. "I am in no mood to deal with you!"
"Seems like you have your hands full," Luingil chuckled.
"You have no idea," Strider replied with a wry grin. "But what are you doing out here?"
"Mostly being a nuisance."
Strider looked up in surprise and saw an Elf maiden standing on the rock, a mischievous smile on her face. Luingil grimaced. "I believe it is you who are being a nuisance, Gwath!" he responded with a mocking frown.
Aiwë gave a short laugh. "It is not I who goes by the name Rusc!"
Strider raised an eyebrow and glanced back and forth between the two Elves. Having been raised by Elves, he knew well the meaning of the Elven words. Luingil saw his confusion and laughed. "Strider, this is my -"
"Friend," Aiwë cut in. "My name is Gwath, but you can just call me Shadow."
Strider bowed slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Shadow."
Luingil eyed his sister curiously. Why did she not tell him she was my sister? he wondered. She knows he is a friend, then why-
"My question has still not truly been answered," said Strider, cutting across his thoughts.
"We are on our way to the White City," Aiwë said, not moving from the rock.
Strider looked at Luingil, mystified. "Minas Tirith? Why?"
Luingil shrugged. "No reason, it is just that we had nothing better to do."
"Then perhaps you would like to come with me?" Strider asked. "I would be grateful for any help, this creature is difficult to handle."
Luingil glanced at Aiwë and she shook her head slightly. "Just a moment," Luingil said to Strider, going to join his sister on the rock. "Why do you not wish to go back?" he whispered. "It is our home!"
"Was our home," Aiwë said dejectedly. "I will not, can not, go back there."
"But why?" Luingil insisted.
Aiwë looked up at him, her sapphire eyes shimmering with tears. "Everyone I have ever loved has died in those woods, with the exception of you," she said softly. "Those woods hold nothing but death for me."
"But you do not know for sure that Legolas is dead," he said anxiously. "Perhaps he has survived -"
"Stop," Aiwë said firmly, her tears threatening to spill over. "I saw him fall, saw his wound. How could he have lived? No, I will not go back."
Luingil looked at his sister closely. "You do not believe he is dead, do you?"
Aiwë looked away to the West. The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky gold and red. "I do not know what I believe," she murmured.
Luingil put a kind hand on her shoulder. "You do not believe he is dead, or you would be dead yourself," he said quietly. "What did our mother always say?"
Aiwë closed her eyes, trying to remember her mother's saying. Suddenly she could see her mother, raven-black hair teased by the wind, sky blue eyes full of light. It was almost as if she could hear her mother's voice calling to her. "Love never loses hope," Aiwë whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.
"Precisely," Luingil said gently. "Come back to the wood, at least you will know for sure."
Aiwë looked up at her brother, sadness in her eyes. "I... cannot," she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. "Not yet, I cannot face them, not yet."
Luingil sighed and bowed his head. "As you wish, Gil-iell. I am going with Strider to Mirkwood, for I miss my home, and I long to return there. I do not know where you will now go, but I wish you well on your journey."
Luingil turned to go, but Aiwë placed her hand on his arm and stopped him. "Rusc," her voice wavered, and she took a moment to compose herself. "Do not tell them about me, that I am alive. I do not want them to know, not yet."
Luingil opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. "As you wish, Gil-iell. Do not do anything foolish, and do not give up hope. Till we meet again, namarië."
Luingil jumped off the rock, and this time Aiwë did not stop him. Luingil walked over to Strider, his fair face somber. "I will accompany you to Mirkwood," he said quietly.
Strider frowned. "What about Lady Shadow?" He had heard none of the siblings' whispered conversation.
Luingil looked at his sister who still stood on the rock, framed by the setting sun. "She must find her own path," he said, almost to himself. "Come, the night gathers swiftly, let us continue."
Aiwë watched as Luingil and Strider jogged lightly across the Brown Lands, Gollum in tow. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she did not bother to brush it away. A coldness had been growing inside of her ever since that fateful day the Orcs had attacked, and now it asserted itself painfully. Her fair face grew hard, and her eyes no longer held any light. Her heart had been wounded deeply and her brother's love had been the only thing keeping her from depression. But now that he had left she was not the creature she had been. She was alone, a creature of darkness and shadow who had chosen to forsake her land and her people. She felt no love or joy, only coldness and hate, hate for the creatures that had taken everything she loved from her. Pulling the hood over her face, she leapt off the rock and headed for the Emyn Muil, appearing to be no more than a shadow flitting across the rocks. She had become Shadow.
**offers cookies** Review, please?
I already said it was pre-LotR, but now I have a set date. This is all happening in the year 3017, Shire Reckoning. The council of Elrond is in the year 3018, and the Ring is destroyed in the year 3019, for those who don't know they're timelines.
And one more thing - In this chapter Luingil calls Aiwë 'Gil-iell' which means Star-daughter in Sindarin. This is another of Aiwë's nicknames, but this one was from her father, because Aiwë would always stare at the stars when she was little. (Actually, she still does that.) Okay, I know that was long, but here's the story! **AS**
Chapter 9: Shadow
Aiwë rolled her eyes. "Do you enjoy stating the obvious?"
"Perhaps," Luingil grinned.
Aiwë sighed and turned her attention back to their problem. They had reached the feet of the Emyn Muil and were searching for a way to cross the River. The Emyn Muil was a chain of trackless mountains that led to a vast marsh, rightly named the Dead Marshes. It was true you could reach Minas Tirith this way, but it required a lot of skill and even more luck. Aiwë sighed and glanced to the West bank. There green hills rolled on, providing soft, easy going. But how to reach them was another matter.
"We really need a boat."
Aiwë tried not to throw her brother in the River. Suddenly she stiffened, a sound reaching her ears.
"Rusc, do you hear that?" she hissed.
Luingil cocked his head and thought he could hear snuffling and muttering, interspersed with a strange gollum noise. "Whatever it is, it draws near," he whispered, lifting his bow.
"Come, let us see what it is," Aiwë whispered. She had no weapons, but she somehow felt she would not need any.
The two Elves crept forward noiselessly until their quarry came into view. A man dressed in travel-stained clothes was striding towards them, a strange creature hobbling beside him, a rope collar around its neck. The creature was obviously the man's prisoner and kept muttering and making noises. If it had not been for the creature, the Elves probably would not have heard the man passing. Which gives him something to his credit, Luingil thought, drawing his bow, arrow ready.
The man was about to walk by the Elves, who were concealed behind a rock, when Luingil rose to his feet. "Halt! Who are you and what is your business?"
The man spun to face them, a hand on his sword hilt. Seeing Luingil, the man relaxed. "Come, Luingil, have I changed that much?"
The Elf squinted. "Strider?" he said incredulously.
The man grinned. "Well met, Luingil."
Luingil leapt off the rock and ran to the man, and Aiwë saw that the creature shrank away from her brother.
"Strider! It has indeed been a long time!" Luingil laughed, slapping his friend on the shoulder. "What are you doing out here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Strider laughed. "As for me, Mithrandir sent me to catch this miserable creature and take him to Thranduil. The Elven-king is supposed to keep this creature as his prisoner."
Luingil looked at the creature and it hissed and shrank back even more. "Nasssty Elf! Nasssty Elf with bright eyess! Gollum!"
Strider jerked the rope slightly. "Hold your tongue, Gollum," he said fiercely. "I am in no mood to deal with you!"
"Seems like you have your hands full," Luingil chuckled.
"You have no idea," Strider replied with a wry grin. "But what are you doing out here?"
"Mostly being a nuisance."
Strider looked up in surprise and saw an Elf maiden standing on the rock, a mischievous smile on her face. Luingil grimaced. "I believe it is you who are being a nuisance, Gwath!" he responded with a mocking frown.
Aiwë gave a short laugh. "It is not I who goes by the name Rusc!"
Strider raised an eyebrow and glanced back and forth between the two Elves. Having been raised by Elves, he knew well the meaning of the Elven words. Luingil saw his confusion and laughed. "Strider, this is my -"
"Friend," Aiwë cut in. "My name is Gwath, but you can just call me Shadow."
Strider bowed slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Shadow."
Luingil eyed his sister curiously. Why did she not tell him she was my sister? he wondered. She knows he is a friend, then why-
"My question has still not truly been answered," said Strider, cutting across his thoughts.
"We are on our way to the White City," Aiwë said, not moving from the rock.
Strider looked at Luingil, mystified. "Minas Tirith? Why?"
Luingil shrugged. "No reason, it is just that we had nothing better to do."
"Then perhaps you would like to come with me?" Strider asked. "I would be grateful for any help, this creature is difficult to handle."
Luingil glanced at Aiwë and she shook her head slightly. "Just a moment," Luingil said to Strider, going to join his sister on the rock. "Why do you not wish to go back?" he whispered. "It is our home!"
"Was our home," Aiwë said dejectedly. "I will not, can not, go back there."
"But why?" Luingil insisted.
Aiwë looked up at him, her sapphire eyes shimmering with tears. "Everyone I have ever loved has died in those woods, with the exception of you," she said softly. "Those woods hold nothing but death for me."
"But you do not know for sure that Legolas is dead," he said anxiously. "Perhaps he has survived -"
"Stop," Aiwë said firmly, her tears threatening to spill over. "I saw him fall, saw his wound. How could he have lived? No, I will not go back."
Luingil looked at his sister closely. "You do not believe he is dead, do you?"
Aiwë looked away to the West. The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky gold and red. "I do not know what I believe," she murmured.
Luingil put a kind hand on her shoulder. "You do not believe he is dead, or you would be dead yourself," he said quietly. "What did our mother always say?"
Aiwë closed her eyes, trying to remember her mother's saying. Suddenly she could see her mother, raven-black hair teased by the wind, sky blue eyes full of light. It was almost as if she could hear her mother's voice calling to her. "Love never loses hope," Aiwë whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.
"Precisely," Luingil said gently. "Come back to the wood, at least you will know for sure."
Aiwë looked up at her brother, sadness in her eyes. "I... cannot," she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. "Not yet, I cannot face them, not yet."
Luingil sighed and bowed his head. "As you wish, Gil-iell. I am going with Strider to Mirkwood, for I miss my home, and I long to return there. I do not know where you will now go, but I wish you well on your journey."
Luingil turned to go, but Aiwë placed her hand on his arm and stopped him. "Rusc," her voice wavered, and she took a moment to compose herself. "Do not tell them about me, that I am alive. I do not want them to know, not yet."
Luingil opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. "As you wish, Gil-iell. Do not do anything foolish, and do not give up hope. Till we meet again, namarië."
Luingil jumped off the rock, and this time Aiwë did not stop him. Luingil walked over to Strider, his fair face somber. "I will accompany you to Mirkwood," he said quietly.
Strider frowned. "What about Lady Shadow?" He had heard none of the siblings' whispered conversation.
Luingil looked at his sister who still stood on the rock, framed by the setting sun. "She must find her own path," he said, almost to himself. "Come, the night gathers swiftly, let us continue."
Aiwë watched as Luingil and Strider jogged lightly across the Brown Lands, Gollum in tow. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she did not bother to brush it away. A coldness had been growing inside of her ever since that fateful day the Orcs had attacked, and now it asserted itself painfully. Her fair face grew hard, and her eyes no longer held any light. Her heart had been wounded deeply and her brother's love had been the only thing keeping her from depression. But now that he had left she was not the creature she had been. She was alone, a creature of darkness and shadow who had chosen to forsake her land and her people. She felt no love or joy, only coldness and hate, hate for the creatures that had taken everything she loved from her. Pulling the hood over her face, she leapt off the rock and headed for the Emyn Muil, appearing to be no more than a shadow flitting across the rocks. She had become Shadow.
**offers cookies** Review, please?