Diclaimer: I aim to prove I am not the ghost of an 80 year old dead man who lived during the 1950s. In other words, me no Tolkein. No own lotr. Wish that I did. Please no sue me?!!!!@
It would have to be a while before she could question them, though for as she stared a young woman, maybe 20 years old walked up to her.
"Margurite you'd best come. Uncle wants you." The woman said then walked off.
Margurite was nervous, her only uncle had died shortly before she had and she had a feeling she was not anywhere near where he was. "Oh well." But as she walked to catch up with the lady, girl really, memories flooded back. A ring, someone named Isuldir, a blurry wedding photagraph, a blond-haired elf, her sister as she smiled at her wedding day. But then more memories. She saw a council as if she was sitting behind them but none saw. Then 9. Nine companians, two humans, a wizard, an elf, a dwarf, 4 hobbits (somewhere in the back of her head she wondered, briefly what a hobbit was.) for 9 ringwraiths, Moria, Lauthlorion (Lauralindrium??), her sister, her brother dead, them hobbits in a mirror, then running away. Then she remembered who she was, for even that had been lost in her few waking moments. Margurite, half-sister to Galadriel, daughter of Merlin, daughter of Aeriala, half-sister to Mithrandir.
Anxiously she remembered the mysteries. How the daughters of two different men could be twins. How one could be wizard and elf, while the other remained pure blood. She remembered her childhood with her and her sister, and the rumors about her flying around. Then with horror she remembered her mother, grief-stricken that one of her children might grow old. She remembered her with the knife. Telling her to come over, if she was going to die anyways she might as well die young. She might as well be remembered as eternally beautiful rather than old, frail and wrinkled. She had screamed then and her step-father, Glorfindel had broken down the doors to save her from this madwoman who no longer even resembled her sweet mother.
She remembered being scared, thinking Glorfindel would surly take her mother's side over hers. Terrified that that night might be her last night in middle-earth she had run down the ladders and steps until hitting the ground and running directly into the woods. She remembered Glorfindel looking for her, calling her name, she thought he was going to murder her so she'd run until she heard crying. Turning around she saw silent tears falling down Glorfindel's face as he did not see her. Her geart had been torn but she'd walked over to ask him to ask what was wrong. On that day she'd felt her first taste of both utter hatred and complete love. Later she was told her mother had gone mad and burned herself alive while at home ending, as if with a close of a book, the first chapter of Margurite's life.
Margurite smiled then as her favorite memories soon danced in front of her, in a whirlwind as if in a race against the speed of light. Galadriel, her sister. They'd grown so close after that and went from barely knowing each other to knowing everything about each other. They'd grown into almost one person. Then in a flash the rest of her memories passed even quicker and she was alone. In a hall, in a strange place called Rohan.