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Title: Mellon-nin
Author: Estrella de la Mañana
Rating: PG-13 for later chapters
Warning: Spoilers – if you haven't read the books and don't wanna know how the last movie will turn out DON'T READ THIS. Not really SLASH (yet), but u neva know how these things will turn out…
Disclaimer: I own nothing. At all. Please don't sue…
Authors Notes: Oh the possibilities…
PROLOGUE
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Death. The one thing that binds all races, all peoples. All hearts. It goes without saying that the one thing all who are born have in common is that one day, by one means or another, all will die. It is the one true constant, the one sure entity, in this world.
The world of men.
Man's fear of demise is evident in the depths of their eyes, lurking around every corner, under every rug and stairwell. It imbues their souls. Death controls men's deeds, for good or ill, until those unaffected by this constant can no longer ascertain whether said deeds were carried out in the name of love, or in order to simply survival.
Mortality has rarely been close to my heart and mind, although I have been aware of its odious existence for much of my life. But I have never feared it. I have not been in a position that would warrant the entertainment such a destructive fear: I have never loved, I never lost.
Until now…
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Year 120 Of the Fourth Age
Miniscule waves lapped at the sides of the vessel, lulling its crew to sleep, while the sun beat down on wearied forms. None moved. Gimli, son of Gloin, rested on a broad bench, head tilted ever so slightly towards his flaxen companion. A frown crept across his countenance; he did not like how his elven friend fared.
A tiny movement caught his gaze – a lone bird wheeled across the waves. Dipping, turning, it searched for its meal among the tossing seas, its sleek, honed body darting in and out of view. Hunting. Hunting, just as they were hunting Valinor. Their intended destination, according to Tharkûn, could only be found by an elf, in the same way that only birds could fly. It was elfin nature, Gimli had been informed, to search for the land their Gods resided in. Elven nature to go where they had been invited. It seemed to Gimli, therefore, that their little expedition verged on the ridiculous, unless the elf could be snapped out of his reverie. A life spent wandering uncharted waters in search of an unseen destination was not the dwarf's desired fate.
Gimli sighed, and slowly turned his eyes back to Legolas. The elf was indeed faring badly. Red streaks were evident across his watchful eyes, while pale skin steadily turned a sickly shade of grey. Even his golden mane had dimmed and dried.
Legolas' head drooped, casting pale tresses across his waxen complexion. His hand drew a small token to his chest; thumb stroking its surface, carving its facets into his memory. The tears fell freely now, all pride forgotten. A love lost, Gimli thought, turning his head away. Legolas' pain imbued the air around him. It affected all, for even breathing was hard around the grief-stricken elf. His will weakens. The thought sent shivers darting down Gimli's spine. He fades.
This will claim his life…
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Tharkûn – Gandalf (dwarvish)
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Ok, very short – I know. Let me know what u think – chapter 1 will be up as soon as I finish it.