Yes! It's chapter 5! I really don't want to have to write through the entire frikking book, and this is pretty long already, so I'm going to shorten it up a little. Don't worry (in
case you were) because I've got a WHOLE plot layed out until.... Well, can't tell you that. 2 much of a spoiler. ^_^ I love the power!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Boromir paced anxiously back and forth over the gravely ground at the Gates of Moria. Why was Gandalf taking so long? Did he not hear the howls of the wolves?
Boromir's hand strayed to his sword hilt, flexing his fingers restlessly over the hilt. This was a cowardly path for a warrior! He would have taken the open road through
the land of the Rohirrim, the sworn allies of Gondor. Boromir sat down heavily on the shifting gravel, angrily hurling a loose stone into the dark murky pool. The ripples
spread with a sickening laziness out about the pool to lap the scummy shores fitfully. Kienariel started and shuddered as she studied the slimy water. Boromir watched her
carefully.
She had risen high in the esteem of the Man of Gondor. He had been in doubt of her worthiness to travel in the fellowship, despite the aptitude she showed in
learning the usage of a sword, she was, after all, a woman. And something had bothered him at some deeper level about the strange elven maid in men's clothes. After the
retreat down the mountain they had settled in a ring of stones some four leagues from Caradhras, pursued by wargs. A fire had been built for protection, and those who
could bear arms readied themselves to fight. Kienariel and the hobbits had drawn their weapons, but were closest to the fire and it was hoped that they would not have to
fight unless the wargs broke through the ring. The wargs had surrounded them, cruel eyes glinting in the darkness and snarls curling and snapping down the wind.
At an unspoken command from the head warg they sprang into the circle. The warriors: Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir killed many, but many more of
the evil, twisted wolves poured into the circle. Glamdring flashed in Gandalf's hand, Anduril flamed red, Gimli's axe whistled and Legolas' arrows flew true to the throats
of the wargs. Then suddenly Kienariel was fighting with them, but not with her sword. She fought with a weapon Boromir had never seen before in his life. A medium
length wooden shaft like that of a spear, she held in her hand. At the head a thin, elliptical blade, there seemed to be, which looked to be of a strong, heavy metal. She
swung it sometime like an axe, stabbed like a steel and sliced like a sword. Where had it come from? Kienariel fought, leaping out of the way to heights Boromir imagined
he could never come near to himself. Agile, as Legolas was and the other elves Boromir had seen in his short mortal life, but her movements spoke with a subtle anger
and wrath that he had never witnessed before and he could not liken it to anything else he had ever beheld. She would plant the end of her... weapon in the ground, swing
about it lightly, land, raise it, kill her warg, leap lightly over another warg, spin, stab, pull, step, slice again and again with fluid motions woven into one unbroken dance, the
anger simmering under the surface all the while. Boromir did not think it had been anger at the wargs, but it had been there all the while and that, perhaps, had been one of
the things that bothered him. She was a good fighter, Boromir had decided, even though the fight against the wargs had been surprisingly short, thanks to Gandalf. Boromir
was more interested in Kienariel's truth than before, and he wanted answers to the questions that nagged him about her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aragorn lifted the last of the packs from Bill the pony's back. He looked sideways at Kienariel. The pack with its share of rations and blankets that they had
given her rested against one of the great trees that stood like living pillars at either sides of the Gates of Moria. The spear-like thing which she carried gleamed silver in the
reflected moonlight and starlight of the iithildin/i. The ranger shook his head. How many mysteries are you hiding, Kienariel? He wondered, Who are you, really?
Aragorn was sure she was more than she seemed. He could not think of what she reminded him of, but it was something Gandalf or Elrond had said to him long ago. He
was sure he had heard it in hs youth in Rivendell. Something he had heard whispers of in Dol Amroth, something he had heard hints of in Dorwinion, superstitions along
the Bay of Belfalas, myths in Haradwaith and muttered curses of corsairs of Umbar. Rivendell. His mind wandered back along the the East Road and back to that fair
valley and its inhabitants - especially a certain inhabitant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gandalf sat down at last in frustration, searching his mind for a word that could be the password to the Mines. He was already troubled and puzzled enough
without this! He squinted for a moment as he moved into the reflection of the iithildin/i on the blade of Kienariel's weapon. The wizard's mind was distracted.
Kienariel and her weapon reminded him of something he had not heard of for long, long lives of men. He was sure of what she was, who she really might be and what she
might be doing so far from home. She was different from the descriptions he had heard, of different nature and manner than what he had expected. Little was known of her
people, and far less of her homeland. Were the cruel peoples he had heard of so often in tales of some other nation? The howls of wolves brought his mind back to its
former path, and he turned his thoughts inward to the reservoirs of information and lore he had stored, searching for the password.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas watched Kienariel as she walked back and forth nervously under the mighty tree under which she had stored her gear. She was a fell fighter, he
deemed, and far more about her was hidden than he had ever guessed. The aura of mystery which surrounded her was heavy and dense. He had glimmers, occasionally,
of what he guessed to be her true nature, a gesture, an expression, a reaction, but he could not guess what the clues might mean. Bitter, cruel and hard she seemed at
times, full of anger and animosity directed for reasons he could not guess. She had laughed with cold glee when Gandalf had set the trees alight upon the hill in the battle
against the wargs, and Legolas had been saddened the lives of the mighty pines had been brought to an end so soon; yet she had been fearful all the while of the hot
flames.
At other times she was as warm and kind as the sun in the sky and bright and as beautiful as the stars of Elbereth in the heavens. Laughing with the hobbits,
ruffling Aragorn's hair, jesting with Gandalf, humming her strange tunes and singing softly under her breath that the words might not be heard. She was the strangest Elf
Legolas had ever met, and he was not sure of what people she was. She seemed interested in the things that grew upon the earth, green and gold alive under the gentle
sun, but also questioned the Dwarf, Gimli, about the caves and mountains, mining techniques, stones and minerals and caverns deep and dark away from the free air and
stars. Gimli had seemed doubtful at first of her earnestness, but was flattered at the Elf's interest of what lay beneath the roots of her people's beloved trees. Legolas was
weary of the endless speeches about mining shafts and tunnels and slabs of hard stone. He could not imagine how Kienariel kept awake, but she would question the
Dwarf and offer her own knowledge of such things until Gimli would hint in loud conversations, his eyes straying to Legolas, that she was the most polite Elf he had ever
met. Legolas did not think that Gimli's father had spoken well of his imprisonment in Legolas' own royal father, Thranduil's, prisons to his son. Legolas could remember
that day well enough, the first haughty dwarf had been captured - his name had been Thorin Oakenshield or some other Dwarf of illustrious title - and the other twelve
had been brought in later, Gloín among them with the old hobbit, Bilbo, secretly padding along, invisible. What a laugh Legolas had had when he had found the truth! His
father had been in a rage to discover that the prisoners had escaped while the guards slept like the dead with empty wine bottles clutched still in their hands.
Ah, but Kienariel was a mystery. All his long years Legolas had not met anyone who made him more curious. Sometimes he wasn't sure if they could trust her.
She simply wouldn't speak about herself. Whenever she spoke with him she always parried Legolas' subtle questions stubbornly, but so politely and respectfully that
Legolas felt dazed at the end of the conversations. He should have been more cunning in speech, son of a king as he was.
His eyes followed the curving Elvish script over the gates... He couldn't read the curving letters, although the they seemed to speak to him on a deep,
unreachable level. Wolves were howling in the distance, and Legolas inspected his quiver carefully, steeling himself for another battle. If only Gandalf could find the
password! Or perhaps a fight to the death with the wild wolves in the free air under the sky would be preferable to a long journey in the dead darkness of the mines.
Gandalf sat up quickly.
"Of course, of course! Absurdly simple, as are most riddles when you see the answer." He strode up to the gates and in a confident voice said: "imellon/i".
The doors swung slowly open and a musty air wafted out of the impenetrable sable cloak within. The company asked Gandalf how he had found the password, but Legolas
noticed that Kienariel was staring at the murky waters of the pool with narrowed eyes. Finally she shuddered, and turned back to the group. Legolas too, had sensed
something strange in the air, but he had thought it was from the mines.They began to prepare to enter the mines, and the group was mainly inside until.... A slithering noise. A sound of something hitting the ground and being
dragged.
"Help me!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hah ha! A sort of cliff-hanger here. You all know what happens next . . .
case you were) because I've got a WHOLE plot layed out until.... Well, can't tell you that. 2 much of a spoiler. ^_^ I love the power!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Boromir paced anxiously back and forth over the gravely ground at the Gates of Moria. Why was Gandalf taking so long? Did he not hear the howls of the wolves?
Boromir's hand strayed to his sword hilt, flexing his fingers restlessly over the hilt. This was a cowardly path for a warrior! He would have taken the open road through
the land of the Rohirrim, the sworn allies of Gondor. Boromir sat down heavily on the shifting gravel, angrily hurling a loose stone into the dark murky pool. The ripples
spread with a sickening laziness out about the pool to lap the scummy shores fitfully. Kienariel started and shuddered as she studied the slimy water. Boromir watched her
carefully.
She had risen high in the esteem of the Man of Gondor. He had been in doubt of her worthiness to travel in the fellowship, despite the aptitude she showed in
learning the usage of a sword, she was, after all, a woman. And something had bothered him at some deeper level about the strange elven maid in men's clothes. After the
retreat down the mountain they had settled in a ring of stones some four leagues from Caradhras, pursued by wargs. A fire had been built for protection, and those who
could bear arms readied themselves to fight. Kienariel and the hobbits had drawn their weapons, but were closest to the fire and it was hoped that they would not have to
fight unless the wargs broke through the ring. The wargs had surrounded them, cruel eyes glinting in the darkness and snarls curling and snapping down the wind.
At an unspoken command from the head warg they sprang into the circle. The warriors: Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir killed many, but many more of
the evil, twisted wolves poured into the circle. Glamdring flashed in Gandalf's hand, Anduril flamed red, Gimli's axe whistled and Legolas' arrows flew true to the throats
of the wargs. Then suddenly Kienariel was fighting with them, but not with her sword. She fought with a weapon Boromir had never seen before in his life. A medium
length wooden shaft like that of a spear, she held in her hand. At the head a thin, elliptical blade, there seemed to be, which looked to be of a strong, heavy metal. She
swung it sometime like an axe, stabbed like a steel and sliced like a sword. Where had it come from? Kienariel fought, leaping out of the way to heights Boromir imagined
he could never come near to himself. Agile, as Legolas was and the other elves Boromir had seen in his short mortal life, but her movements spoke with a subtle anger
and wrath that he had never witnessed before and he could not liken it to anything else he had ever beheld. She would plant the end of her... weapon in the ground, swing
about it lightly, land, raise it, kill her warg, leap lightly over another warg, spin, stab, pull, step, slice again and again with fluid motions woven into one unbroken dance, the
anger simmering under the surface all the while. Boromir did not think it had been anger at the wargs, but it had been there all the while and that, perhaps, had been one of
the things that bothered him. She was a good fighter, Boromir had decided, even though the fight against the wargs had been surprisingly short, thanks to Gandalf. Boromir
was more interested in Kienariel's truth than before, and he wanted answers to the questions that nagged him about her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aragorn lifted the last of the packs from Bill the pony's back. He looked sideways at Kienariel. The pack with its share of rations and blankets that they had
given her rested against one of the great trees that stood like living pillars at either sides of the Gates of Moria. The spear-like thing which she carried gleamed silver in the
reflected moonlight and starlight of the iithildin/i. The ranger shook his head. How many mysteries are you hiding, Kienariel? He wondered, Who are you, really?
Aragorn was sure she was more than she seemed. He could not think of what she reminded him of, but it was something Gandalf or Elrond had said to him long ago. He
was sure he had heard it in hs youth in Rivendell. Something he had heard whispers of in Dol Amroth, something he had heard hints of in Dorwinion, superstitions along
the Bay of Belfalas, myths in Haradwaith and muttered curses of corsairs of Umbar. Rivendell. His mind wandered back along the the East Road and back to that fair
valley and its inhabitants - especially a certain inhabitant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gandalf sat down at last in frustration, searching his mind for a word that could be the password to the Mines. He was already troubled and puzzled enough
without this! He squinted for a moment as he moved into the reflection of the iithildin/i on the blade of Kienariel's weapon. The wizard's mind was distracted.
Kienariel and her weapon reminded him of something he had not heard of for long, long lives of men. He was sure of what she was, who she really might be and what she
might be doing so far from home. She was different from the descriptions he had heard, of different nature and manner than what he had expected. Little was known of her
people, and far less of her homeland. Were the cruel peoples he had heard of so often in tales of some other nation? The howls of wolves brought his mind back to its
former path, and he turned his thoughts inward to the reservoirs of information and lore he had stored, searching for the password.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas watched Kienariel as she walked back and forth nervously under the mighty tree under which she had stored her gear. She was a fell fighter, he
deemed, and far more about her was hidden than he had ever guessed. The aura of mystery which surrounded her was heavy and dense. He had glimmers, occasionally,
of what he guessed to be her true nature, a gesture, an expression, a reaction, but he could not guess what the clues might mean. Bitter, cruel and hard she seemed at
times, full of anger and animosity directed for reasons he could not guess. She had laughed with cold glee when Gandalf had set the trees alight upon the hill in the battle
against the wargs, and Legolas had been saddened the lives of the mighty pines had been brought to an end so soon; yet she had been fearful all the while of the hot
flames.
At other times she was as warm and kind as the sun in the sky and bright and as beautiful as the stars of Elbereth in the heavens. Laughing with the hobbits,
ruffling Aragorn's hair, jesting with Gandalf, humming her strange tunes and singing softly under her breath that the words might not be heard. She was the strangest Elf
Legolas had ever met, and he was not sure of what people she was. She seemed interested in the things that grew upon the earth, green and gold alive under the gentle
sun, but also questioned the Dwarf, Gimli, about the caves and mountains, mining techniques, stones and minerals and caverns deep and dark away from the free air and
stars. Gimli had seemed doubtful at first of her earnestness, but was flattered at the Elf's interest of what lay beneath the roots of her people's beloved trees. Legolas was
weary of the endless speeches about mining shafts and tunnels and slabs of hard stone. He could not imagine how Kienariel kept awake, but she would question the
Dwarf and offer her own knowledge of such things until Gimli would hint in loud conversations, his eyes straying to Legolas, that she was the most polite Elf he had ever
met. Legolas did not think that Gimli's father had spoken well of his imprisonment in Legolas' own royal father, Thranduil's, prisons to his son. Legolas could remember
that day well enough, the first haughty dwarf had been captured - his name had been Thorin Oakenshield or some other Dwarf of illustrious title - and the other twelve
had been brought in later, Gloín among them with the old hobbit, Bilbo, secretly padding along, invisible. What a laugh Legolas had had when he had found the truth! His
father had been in a rage to discover that the prisoners had escaped while the guards slept like the dead with empty wine bottles clutched still in their hands.
Ah, but Kienariel was a mystery. All his long years Legolas had not met anyone who made him more curious. Sometimes he wasn't sure if they could trust her.
She simply wouldn't speak about herself. Whenever she spoke with him she always parried Legolas' subtle questions stubbornly, but so politely and respectfully that
Legolas felt dazed at the end of the conversations. He should have been more cunning in speech, son of a king as he was.
His eyes followed the curving Elvish script over the gates... He couldn't read the curving letters, although the they seemed to speak to him on a deep,
unreachable level. Wolves were howling in the distance, and Legolas inspected his quiver carefully, steeling himself for another battle. If only Gandalf could find the
password! Or perhaps a fight to the death with the wild wolves in the free air under the sky would be preferable to a long journey in the dead darkness of the mines.
Gandalf sat up quickly.
"Of course, of course! Absurdly simple, as are most riddles when you see the answer." He strode up to the gates and in a confident voice said: "imellon/i".
The doors swung slowly open and a musty air wafted out of the impenetrable sable cloak within. The company asked Gandalf how he had found the password, but Legolas
noticed that Kienariel was staring at the murky waters of the pool with narrowed eyes. Finally she shuddered, and turned back to the group. Legolas too, had sensed
something strange in the air, but he had thought it was from the mines.They began to prepare to enter the mines, and the group was mainly inside until.... A slithering noise. A sound of something hitting the ground and being
dragged.
"Help me!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hah ha! A sort of cliff-hanger here. You all know what happens next . . .