A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I appreciate the constructive
criticism, and I'd like to announce (in big bold letters) THIS IS NOT A
MARY SUE. I'm taking pains to make sure this is not, because everyone is
saying--- be careful, starting to sound like a Mary sue--- and it's not,
really. I know most people take the first two chapters to set up the
character, but I've done it differently. I went to put the new character
into the plot first, show how she and Aragorn were close and related, and
then in this next chapter and a few after, work on the group dynamics.
Figured I'd let you in on it...
A/N: I just read over my second chapter, and I was like---wow. I have to not write when I'm tired.--- Sorry about the crazy spelling and punctuation. I don't have a beta, so you're going to have to put up with me for a while. I'll tell you what though, I will promise not to write when I'm tired.
The light of the fire danced on the faces of my two companions. We sat in silence, though it seemed rather strained. I wondered if it was me. I suddenly felt as if I needed to get out of there, and quick.
They were probably wondering about the fact that Aragorn had a sister that wasn't even human, and the elf, who I had been absently admiring from time to time; he was probably thinking how much better he was as a full elf.
Sure, it was probably unfounded, but I'd found during my life, when it came to the wise and peace loving elves, they could be very cruel if they didn't think you were as good as them. I remember going to meet my Great Aunt for the first time, down in the golden woods of Lothlorien. I couldn't remember ever seeing an elf so beautiful as her.
She had long blond hair, like most of the Lorien elves, an aquiline nose and eyes the color of irises in the morning. She walked very regally towards me, descending from steps weaved of tree branches. I wanted to run to her, and I told my mother so.
"Mother, can I give her a hug? Please Mother?" I begged. The only thing holding me back was her firm hand on my shoulder.
"No, Iverwan. That's not how an elf behaves." I stopped fidgeting that moment. All I ever wanted when I was small was to be a real elf, not the quarter elf that I was. I was so dazzled by the soft elegance in which they seemed to move, surrounded by a world of beauty and love.
I had grown up travelling from one place to another; I knew the dregs of society, and I had no wish to live in such squalor. I wanted to be a regal elf, life steeped in tradition and family, ancient learning and wisdom.
My Aunt stepped down onto the forest floor, and I noticed that something was wrong. Her face was full of contempt, hatred. I looked behind me to see if some one was walking past, surely that look couldn't be for me, her niece, but I was wrong, as we all are when we are children.
"Lairea is that child-"She paused, as if thinking how to word what she was about to say, without offending my mother if she was wrong, "Not of the blood?"
"No, Aunt. Her father is Human." A look of utter disgust came upon her features, shattering the illusion of beauty into some twisted, hateful thing. I grasped for my mother's hand, hoping to find comfort in the warmth of her, wanting to cry.
"Just like your mother, Lairea, filth. That child is a disgrace! She's not even half-elven! That would have been bad enough, but you've seen fit to drag our family name through the mud and filth only to ease your sexual desires! You disgust me! That child disgusts me!" and with that, my aunt turned gracefully resuming her climb, leaving a shell-shocked child in her wake.
I could feel my mother shaking with rage. Her hand squeezed mine so tight I was afraid it would break. I felt like I wasn't good enough to be an elf. And I wasn't. I had dishonoured my family just by being alive. My eyes misted, but I fought back the tears. I decided, then and there, even if I had done something so bad as be born, maybe I could make up for it eventually, become a hero or something, and heroes did not cry.
I stepped back from the fire, feeling eyes boring into my back as I moved to sit by my brother. He had always loved me.
"Aragorn?" I asked softly, waiting for a reply.
There was none. I felt the tears once again. They always seemed to be just below the surface, like each time I held them back, it filled twice as much, until one day I wouldn't be able to hold them back anymore, and I'd just cry and cry and cry. That was not a comforting thought.
"Are you mad at me?" I asked, tilting my head to look at his face.
He put his pipe down, and gazed at me, as if trying to decide.
"Not really," He finally said. "You just never think is all. You have one of your dreams, and then rush in head long to save everyone, and I'm afraid one day, your not going to be able to save yourself..I just want you to be safe and happy.." He trailed off, looking pointedly at my face.
"What's wrong?" He asked. It always began like this, this game we played.
"Nothing." I muttered, my part done.
"There's something wrong, I can tell, I always have," he stated, raising his voice a bit.
"There's nothing wrong! Just leave me alone!" I shouted at him, getting up and walking down through the path to the river. I heard the dwarf give a gruff laugh, and I decided I rather liked him, why I didn't know, he made me think he was an uncle to a brood of children or some thing of the sort, just by the laugh, like it was something familiar and reminiscent of better days.
"Those two are definitely siblings Legolas, no use doubting it." He said. The elf looked confused.
"I suppose. But I always thought Arathorn was faithful," He mentioned. The Dwarf gave a loud guffaw.
"You go have yourself enough pints to drown a horse, and you tell me, if you woke up in a strange room with a strange woman, not remembering anything, would you claim to be faithful?"
""Well, I suppose, I would have no knowledge of the night-"
The sound of the stream cut of their friendly banter, and Aragorn pulled me to a stop.
"What is wrong?" he questioned again, softer this time.
I shook my head, "It's complicated."
"Nothing is ever simple with you, Iverwan, dear sister." He stated playfully, trying to lighten my mood.
"I was just remembering Great Aunt Murlitheul. Your elf friend Legolas seems to strike me as being of the same character," I told him defiantly. He didn't glare like I thought he would, nor did he yell. He pulled me close in a hug, and I wound my arms about him.
"You aren't any worse than anyone because you're a quarter elf, and I assure you, Legolas, who you have been making doe-eyes at over the fire no less, is nothing like that old wind bag Murlitheul." I hugged him tight, and then pulled away.
"I was not making doe-eyes at him, you and Arwen make doe-eyes at each other, I do not make doe-eyes, thank you very much."
"You do too. If you didn't you wouldn't be denying it so much." I glared at him, and then threw my hands in the air.
"What if I did make doe-eyes at him? What are you going to do about it?" I wasn't mad, only exasperated. It struck me as funny, because it was true. I had been staring at him somewhat intently, he was handsome, even for an elf. "It's not a crime to admire beauty! Look-the tree is beautiful! Will you accuse me of making doe-eyes at it?"
"I could," He answered with a smile. I turned, not quickly enough though. He had gotten a glimpse of my smile.
"Arrrghhh! Your incorrigible! Just like you were three-and-ten all over again!"
A/N: There, some character development and the brother/sister dynamic. And, you all should be very proud of me; I even was able to work in some romance! Yes, I am proud. *tries to pat herself on the back, only manages to make the chair fall backwards* :: Her muse laughs until it cannot breath, points and makes face instead.:::
A/N: I just read over my second chapter, and I was like---wow. I have to not write when I'm tired.--- Sorry about the crazy spelling and punctuation. I don't have a beta, so you're going to have to put up with me for a while. I'll tell you what though, I will promise not to write when I'm tired.
The light of the fire danced on the faces of my two companions. We sat in silence, though it seemed rather strained. I wondered if it was me. I suddenly felt as if I needed to get out of there, and quick.
They were probably wondering about the fact that Aragorn had a sister that wasn't even human, and the elf, who I had been absently admiring from time to time; he was probably thinking how much better he was as a full elf.
Sure, it was probably unfounded, but I'd found during my life, when it came to the wise and peace loving elves, they could be very cruel if they didn't think you were as good as them. I remember going to meet my Great Aunt for the first time, down in the golden woods of Lothlorien. I couldn't remember ever seeing an elf so beautiful as her.
She had long blond hair, like most of the Lorien elves, an aquiline nose and eyes the color of irises in the morning. She walked very regally towards me, descending from steps weaved of tree branches. I wanted to run to her, and I told my mother so.
"Mother, can I give her a hug? Please Mother?" I begged. The only thing holding me back was her firm hand on my shoulder.
"No, Iverwan. That's not how an elf behaves." I stopped fidgeting that moment. All I ever wanted when I was small was to be a real elf, not the quarter elf that I was. I was so dazzled by the soft elegance in which they seemed to move, surrounded by a world of beauty and love.
I had grown up travelling from one place to another; I knew the dregs of society, and I had no wish to live in such squalor. I wanted to be a regal elf, life steeped in tradition and family, ancient learning and wisdom.
My Aunt stepped down onto the forest floor, and I noticed that something was wrong. Her face was full of contempt, hatred. I looked behind me to see if some one was walking past, surely that look couldn't be for me, her niece, but I was wrong, as we all are when we are children.
"Lairea is that child-"She paused, as if thinking how to word what she was about to say, without offending my mother if she was wrong, "Not of the blood?"
"No, Aunt. Her father is Human." A look of utter disgust came upon her features, shattering the illusion of beauty into some twisted, hateful thing. I grasped for my mother's hand, hoping to find comfort in the warmth of her, wanting to cry.
"Just like your mother, Lairea, filth. That child is a disgrace! She's not even half-elven! That would have been bad enough, but you've seen fit to drag our family name through the mud and filth only to ease your sexual desires! You disgust me! That child disgusts me!" and with that, my aunt turned gracefully resuming her climb, leaving a shell-shocked child in her wake.
I could feel my mother shaking with rage. Her hand squeezed mine so tight I was afraid it would break. I felt like I wasn't good enough to be an elf. And I wasn't. I had dishonoured my family just by being alive. My eyes misted, but I fought back the tears. I decided, then and there, even if I had done something so bad as be born, maybe I could make up for it eventually, become a hero or something, and heroes did not cry.
I stepped back from the fire, feeling eyes boring into my back as I moved to sit by my brother. He had always loved me.
"Aragorn?" I asked softly, waiting for a reply.
There was none. I felt the tears once again. They always seemed to be just below the surface, like each time I held them back, it filled twice as much, until one day I wouldn't be able to hold them back anymore, and I'd just cry and cry and cry. That was not a comforting thought.
"Are you mad at me?" I asked, tilting my head to look at his face.
He put his pipe down, and gazed at me, as if trying to decide.
"Not really," He finally said. "You just never think is all. You have one of your dreams, and then rush in head long to save everyone, and I'm afraid one day, your not going to be able to save yourself..I just want you to be safe and happy.." He trailed off, looking pointedly at my face.
"What's wrong?" He asked. It always began like this, this game we played.
"Nothing." I muttered, my part done.
"There's something wrong, I can tell, I always have," he stated, raising his voice a bit.
"There's nothing wrong! Just leave me alone!" I shouted at him, getting up and walking down through the path to the river. I heard the dwarf give a gruff laugh, and I decided I rather liked him, why I didn't know, he made me think he was an uncle to a brood of children or some thing of the sort, just by the laugh, like it was something familiar and reminiscent of better days.
"Those two are definitely siblings Legolas, no use doubting it." He said. The elf looked confused.
"I suppose. But I always thought Arathorn was faithful," He mentioned. The Dwarf gave a loud guffaw.
"You go have yourself enough pints to drown a horse, and you tell me, if you woke up in a strange room with a strange woman, not remembering anything, would you claim to be faithful?"
""Well, I suppose, I would have no knowledge of the night-"
The sound of the stream cut of their friendly banter, and Aragorn pulled me to a stop.
"What is wrong?" he questioned again, softer this time.
I shook my head, "It's complicated."
"Nothing is ever simple with you, Iverwan, dear sister." He stated playfully, trying to lighten my mood.
"I was just remembering Great Aunt Murlitheul. Your elf friend Legolas seems to strike me as being of the same character," I told him defiantly. He didn't glare like I thought he would, nor did he yell. He pulled me close in a hug, and I wound my arms about him.
"You aren't any worse than anyone because you're a quarter elf, and I assure you, Legolas, who you have been making doe-eyes at over the fire no less, is nothing like that old wind bag Murlitheul." I hugged him tight, and then pulled away.
"I was not making doe-eyes at him, you and Arwen make doe-eyes at each other, I do not make doe-eyes, thank you very much."
"You do too. If you didn't you wouldn't be denying it so much." I glared at him, and then threw my hands in the air.
"What if I did make doe-eyes at him? What are you going to do about it?" I wasn't mad, only exasperated. It struck me as funny, because it was true. I had been staring at him somewhat intently, he was handsome, even for an elf. "It's not a crime to admire beauty! Look-the tree is beautiful! Will you accuse me of making doe-eyes at it?"
"I could," He answered with a smile. I turned, not quickly enough though. He had gotten a glimpse of my smile.
"Arrrghhh! Your incorrigible! Just like you were three-and-ten all over again!"
A/N: There, some character development and the brother/sister dynamic. And, you all should be very proud of me; I even was able to work in some romance! Yes, I am proud. *tries to pat herself on the back, only manages to make the chair fall backwards* :: Her muse laughs until it cannot breath, points and makes face instead.:::