Summary: Alternate Universe. A legend of five guardians created by Sauron arises in Rivendell. One of the guardians brings her tale and must return to Mordor to do what's needed to be done but to what sacrifice, she doesn't know. Set after the Council of Elrond but before the fellowship leaves to their journey.
Rating: PG now but PG-13 to R in later chapters
Comments: I never get enough comments, good or bad. Review please. It helps to know what sucks and what sucks less. Lol
Author's Note: I'm starting to have huge jumps in these parts. My apologies if you get confused, but most of the time, it's pretty self explanatory on where it's at in the movie and/or books.
Final Note: This is only undergoing a few drafts, so don't freak about errors.
Five of Five: A Guardian's Tale
Chapter 5: Echoes of the Past
The winter winds whirled and whipped around the fellowship sending the already uncomfortable group into further discomfort. After searching through the endless branches and winter-dead shrubbery, Meriadoc sighed and looked at the fellowship. He already missed being in the company of Bilbo and the Elves. Pippin seem to adjust better being intrigued by every new place they went to and talking to the various company; then again, Pippin seemed to go through life as if it were a new experience oblivious to the fact if he had done it before. Merry liked to speak with the company but never searched anyone out; shyness overcame curiosity most of the time.
He shared in the same curiosity that Frodo did for the guardian, or the nightwalker as Boromir and Gimli often called her, but never had the courage to talk to her even though questions of her life filled his mind with a slight wonder. The nightwalker name seemed so crude, but he guessed, it was fitting for her and she didn't seem bothered by it. Then again, nothing seem to bother her which brought up why nothing seemed to bother her. During the few days, he had seen her eat next to nothing and still travel quickly with the leaders, Gandalf and Aragorn.
Merry didn't notice that the sun was dipping into the horizon pouring out deep red and violet hues into the sky that faded into a deep navy as it reached Middle Earth again. The young hobbit gripped his cloak looking around. The surroundings grew darker with shadows creating holes for creatures to crawl into, and soon, Merry wasn't focusing on the road but the ever increasingly daunting surroundings. Merry's lack of attention caused him to trip over a branch rolling slightly to the side of the road and down a steep hill. Through the spinning he thought he heard his named called by Pippin. The images of grass, dirt and limbs blurred together along with voices as he continued to tumble.
After what seemed an eternity of tumbling, Merry opened his eyes and saw the nightwalker sliding down carefully then crouch over him offering a hand up. He gazed around seeing he was now about 50 or more feet below the group, who stood on the edges watching now. Aragorn slide down grasping limbs and trees to steady himself just as Merry had grasped the hand of the guardian, who pulled him up with great ease.
"Are you all right, Merry?" the ranger asked looking him over thoroughly.
"I think I'm fine," the hobbit responded slightly shaky. Above he saw Gandalf instruct the group to watch the edge then Merry started to walk but now felt a slight bit of pain in his ankle. The more he tried to climb and walk the greater the pain became till his ankle was throbbing with the pain now feeling like fire churning beneath his skin. He yelped and sat down again. Strider walked over quickly and examined his ankle.
"You might have twisted it, my friend, or worse broken it," Strider said with a look that meant Merry wasn't able to climb up the side.
"I'll carry him on my back till at least we get up this steep ground. You can fix his ankle up there, Aragorn." the guardian suggested still kneeled down at Merry's level.
"Can you make it up there with an extra weight?" Strider asked looking at her curiously. She nodded then examined the hill again. It was basically a landslide of dirt with a few roots protruding out and curled back into the soil in some places.
"Lead me, and I can carry Merry up," she said at last. Merry hesitated at climbing onto her back; he still felt uneasy around her and was sure he would not know how to pass the moments of silence if he were to stay with her that long. She turned around and gave him a concerned look. He jumped onto her back grabbing onto her shoulders first then encircling his hands around her neck.
She slowly got up and let Strider start climbing then followed slowly not to jolt Merry or to bounce him. The pain in his ankle started to grow again shooting up his shin and calf. Once again, he yelped causing the Elf to stop and turn her head slightly.
"You'll be fine, little one; I won't drop you. You'll be past the hill and waking again in no time," she said and resumed her climbing. Something in her voice relaxed him and the pain seemed to become tolerable. On the last small climb, Strider helped her up then she once again kneeled down to let Merry down carefully.
Aragorn began to look at Merry's ankle that had swollen up quite a bit. All the time Strider was bathing, setting and wrapping his ankle the Elf female remained crouched to the ground watching over him as evening progressed into night. When Strider finished, Merry's hobbit companions stood near him ready to help him walk.
"I don't think you'll be able to walk easily, little one. Let me carry you again." the nightwalker offered. Merry had started to feel sick from the pain and hopped on again wrapping his hands around her neck. Once again, she raised up slowly and placed both hand under his butt forming a seat creating a chair. Merry tried to balance his weight so she wouldn't feel such a tug. Frodo stayed beside the guardian while Sam and Pippin followed behind as the group once again traveled.
Merry put his head on her shoulder still feeling his ankle throb. It gave him no comfort but holding his head up was making him more dizzy, and he had altogether given up on balancing his weight. She didn't seem to notice and felt is if she carried him with great ease. Merry noticed that her hair and clothing smelled like smoke--almost a clean scent of ashes which reminded him of Gandalf and Bilbo. The scent calmed him a bit as he watched ahead the road growing darker. His mind felt light with the idea of him moving without him moving himself. His ankle still plagued him though.
Night was practically over them revealing a blanket of stars. The forest was now a sanctuary for creatures of evil that wanted to hide and watch the fellowship travel. Merry gripped the Elf's neck unknowingly more. The group kept traveling with Gandalf providing a small bit of light to guide them. The light didn't give the wounded hobbit much comfort.
It occurred to him that he had done exactly what he said he wouldn't do: let the silence be the only thing that is mention while he traveled with the guardian. Merry had pondered something that had nagged his thoughts since Pip knocked over the drawing book, and now, Merry decided to finally ask.
"Who is the drawing of the male Elf?" he asked her in the darkness. Only a faint hint of her face could be seen in the darkness. She kept her eyes forward but answered him quietly.
"That was my father; that drawing was the first I ever did." Merry now became suddenly fascinated with the idea of an artist being among the group.
"Was that before you became a guardian?" Merry asked not considering his manners. Frodo gave him a "shhh." The hobbit now wished he hadn't asked such a offensive sounding question now feeling embarrassed.
"Your question is valid, Merry, and yes, it was before I was made into a nightwalker. There was still war going on, and throughout it I drew what I could, and even after I was a guardian, I drew." she answered and slowed her pace as the group stopped. Merry was relieved when they had stopped for the night even though this darkness was more unsettling to him than the pain.
The Elf let him down easily and began to walk to a different area when Merry grabbed her long cloak. She turned around and looked down slightly concerned mixed with curiosity. The hobbit once again built up his courage and asked her to sit down and tell him stories of her past.
"What do you want hear?" she asked sitting down. A small fire was built in the center with the fellowship around it.
"Everything," the hobbit simply said. Around him the companions seemed to wait for the stories as well maybe just as curious or just interested.
"You mentioned my father earlier so, I'll speak about him. His skill in blacksmithing allowed him to be chosen as one of the original Elven smiths that forged the three rings just before Sauron created the One Ring. He was the one who created the Elven weapons I carry," she began and pulled out on of the three bladed weapons than resumed, "the weapons were created for my hands and were practiced by me, but during the war between Sauron and the Men and Elves, his life was lost and so were his plans for this weapon." Gandalf looked captivated.
"Does the weapon contain any power?" Gimli asked fingering his ax handle idly.
"It doesn't, nor did it make me the creature I am." she answered. Merry felt like a teenage hobbit sitting around a camp fire telling scary stories on clear cool night, but this night was not cool but very cold with the fire giving out next to no warmth with stories containing more cold sting than the winter air..
"What my father didn't see was my assimilation into a nightwalker," she said looking into the fire. Her eyes carried a look of hurt or guilt, Merry couldn't tell. Her face was as marble stone showing no sign of emotion, but her eyes told a different story.
"Why you?" Boromir asked staring at her which made Merry slightly glare at the man for sounding slightly hatful. The nightwalker kept her gaze at the fire.
"I'm not sure. Three Elves and two Men were made into nightwalkers; the other two Elves were the sons and daughters of the blacksmiths, like I was," she said her voice more deadpan than usual. Merry shifted his weight uneasily. He had heard of orcs being made from Elves, but Merry had no idea how. That thought seemed fearful to him.
"And the two Men?" the ranger asked.
"One was a woman whose husband was a general, and the other, I'm not sure. Whatever trace of humanity they had was erased when we were converted." The guardian now broke her fix on the fire and looked at the fellowship. Merry saw most were uneasy at the thought of how she was "created".
The nightwalker got to a crouching position and began another tale "Whenever we were chosen, it didn't take long to gather us. In the darkest night, we were stolen from our homes and families and brought to the fires of Mordor" The Elf's eyes were focused back on the fire watching it dance in the wind remembering the past that seemed imbedded into the darkness of her soul. She continued "The first part wasn't that bad. We were thrown into pits to fight for our lives. With the "test" over, we were tortured night after night for weeks and weeks. After a while I and the others became numb from the experience. At one point we were to turn into orcs, but Sauron had devised another plan." Now, all eyes were transfixed on the nightwalker's tale.
"We were cut open," she said ever so quietly then moved her arm to the light rolling up the sleeve to reveal a vertically scar that started at her wrist and went to her elbow. Merry felt a tremor of pain just looking at the scar forgetting his own pain for a brief moment. The scar looked like it was unevenly cut and crudely done by a dull blade leaving a raised mark. She continued with her voice just as calm as when she spoke to Frodo "Our blood was drained from our bodies almost killing us and replaced with orc blood. At first none of our bodies wanted to adjust to the blood, and we spent years trying to fight back the now poison within our bodies. When things looked better, Sauron allowed him to be bled slightly so we could have his blood course in our veins. This too met with resistance and ended in submission."
Merry felt sick now thinking of the images the Elf described and leaned back trying to keep from fainting. How anyone could go through that and have the kindness that was bestowed upon him was beyond his belief. "Or is this an act?" his mind argued. The hobbit came to the conclusion that it couldn't be possible for such a vile creature to be kind unless there was some kindness there to begin with.
"That's impossible; you'd be dead now." Boromir said slightly rattled by the information. The Elf didn't move or say anything. The hobbit watched the guardian stare queerly at the fire again then open her mouth slightly to speak again.
"We were dead but not dead; we felt alive but were not. After the darkness had runs it's course, we were tortured more with the pain now coming as a wanted pain, and our bodies were scorched with fire marked for all to see what we were," she finished.
Gimli scoffed "I don't believe that either." The guardian removed the glove she wore on her left hand and showed a burn scar on the top of her hand of Elven script. Gandalf reached over and pulled her hand to him reading. Merry shuddered thinking of the pain that must have accompanied the scars. His mind felt over whelmed by the information. The whole thing sounded like a fairy tale told to warn people or frighten children from wandering out into the darkness.
But here and now, he looked upon someone who had been wronged greatly, denied the fruits of life he and the rest of his companions had tasted. He pitied her and felt better about being around her knowing that dark past.
"Five of five," Gandalf announced to the group and gave the nightwalker's hand back to her in which she promptly gloved again, as if ashamed or hiding the fact she was a dark creation.
Most the faces looked grave, and those that didn't were skeptical and looked down upon her for even considering to say such. He knew of the Gondorian's loath of her and saw a look of doubt upon Boromir's face. The night's wind seem to send a chill warning the group that it was too late for this discussion. Aragorn and Legolas took a place to guard half the night while everyone else laid down as the final fridge wind brushed coarsely again their faces.
***
Morning came sooner than Merry expected and much to the hobbit's surprise he was the first one up besides the watchers Gimli and Boromir. Beside him was the nightwalker's things and under a compulsion, he looked through the items to find the book of drawings. "Your getting as bad as Pippin!" a voice said protesting. The hobbit sighed and put the book back. "I'll just ask to see it," his mind made up.
Merry stood up and realized in flash that his ankle was nowhere near ameliorated and sat down again trying to regain the breath that caught in his throat from the sudden pain. Pippin walked to him concerned.
"You still aren't able to walk yet, Merry?" he asked. Merry shook his head and got up again this time with the aid of Pippin. Aragorn came to check on him and seeing that the ankle looked slightly better he began to gather the group. Wounded, Merry felt like dead weight just slowing the group down. The nightwalker walked to him after gathering her things and crouched down in front of him.
"I can see by the way you strain to balance that you haven't fully recovered. Hop on; I'll let you rest on me again," she offered once again kindly. Merry nodded.
"I'd like to see you drawing book the next time we rest if that's fine," he requested. Merry jumped on her back as best he could, and she lifted him once again using her arms as a chair.
"You may see my work," she said simply and joined the now forming fellowship line behind Legolas.