Disconnected
Chpt 20.
"Jonica?" panted a crying Legolas as Jonica Tuluxey's last words were breathed. He calmly shut his lover's eyes and held her close to his own beating heart.
"Jonny?" Ivory whispered, running to her daughter's side, and kneeled to hold her already cooling hand. My daughter, my only child. "Jonny wake up," she demanded, tears in her eyes. I have to be strong, she thought, we were vampires, we were special. Jonny, my baby, my poor baby. The vampire couldn't hold her sorrow in any longer, and wept hard for her lost child. Clutching her hand to her breast, she looked at her daughter's horrible, beautiful face, and shook as she silently wept.
"Jon, love? Why?" her father said shocked, unable to express the pain that he felt at that moment. I thought we understood the prophecy. The demon would have to die to save the world, she would have to die. But knowing doesn't make this any easier; Desent thought to himself, trying to remain calm and collective, They didn't say she would have to kill herself to save the world. Now my wife is crying. Ivory is crying, I've never seen her cry. In the one hundred and thirty some years we've been together, I've never seen her cry. She's really gone? How can she be gone? The world is saved, yes, but for us the world is over…Jonny's dead. He slowly went to his wife's side and held her away from their daughter's dead body.
Ivory screamed in rage, and pulled away from her husband's hold to beat the corpse of the demon. He returned to her side and held her as she cursed the demon's soul in a dead language that no one remembered. She cried on his shoulder; no longer silent, no longer calm, as he tried harder not to break down.
Legolas stayed by her side, praying to the Valar to go easy on her soul, to maybe send her back like they did with Gandalf. He loved her…that was a fact, no matter how long they knew each other's arms, no matter how long they believed to hate one another. He loved her; he knew that from the first time he set his eyes on her. Even with his bow strung in her face. He remembered thinking that she looked like a goddess, no elfin beauty compared to her unusual dark green eyes that changed shades in the light and danced in the sun. The way her hair framed her face, the odd way she talked to everyone as if they were her equals, her uncanny ability to talk to the animals. He loved her.
"I never finished the tale of the ring," Gimli cried silently as he came over to comfort the elf.
Everyone, in fact, loved the girl in their own way, whether they knew her or not. They had admired her will, and how wise she was for her age. Most had to admit that they had gotten lost in her gaze once or twice. Even Galadriel, the wisest of all elves, mourned her loss. The girl was an equal in the abilities of the elf queen, and she admired how much harder she had to work for it.
The world was safe that night, but there was no joy in the hearts of elves or men.