Disclaimer: All characters who appear in J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, do not belong to me. They belong to him. Also, any places or plot points contained therein belong to him. Everything else belongs to me. Please do not use them without my permission. I make no money from this, and it is meant solely for entertainment purposes, so please do not sue me. Thanks!
Author's Note: This is the continuing story of Legolas and Nimoë, which was begun in Elfsong. I strongly recommend reading that story first. I guarantee that you will find it an entertaining read ;-p I will, however, try to make this tale stand on its own as much as possible. This story will come more from my own imagination than the original since, after the War of the Rings, there is very little left to work with. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated! Have fun all!
The young Elf girl stumbled along in her mother's wake, struggling to remain on her feet, although exhaustion was crushing down on her spirit. "Please, mother, why must we keep on so?"
The older Elf turned her blue eyes back to regard her young daughter. Pity was there, but also fear, and it was the fear which drove her onward. "The way is not safe, young one. We must pass through this region quickly, for Elves are feared here, and if we are found, I do not know what they will do to us."
The girl's face screwed itself up, as if she were about to cry, but she nodded her understanding and continued to place one foot in front of the other. Each step was perilous, for they were high in the Emyn Muil, on the eastern side of the Anduin. The grey rocks were splintered and frail, often cracking away underfoot.
Mendiel, the older Elf, looked up into the sky, and she almost wept when she saw that the storm clouds which had been massing to the south were nearing. Already she could see sheets of rain trailing from the bottoms of the clouds like curtains of grey doom. If they were caught out in the open they would suffer greatly for, in their haste to leave their home, weeks past, they had been forced to flee with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and those were now threadbare and torn. Food they had scavenged off the land, and water had been easy enough to find, but it seemed as if now nature itself had decided to cast its lot in with those trying to kill them.
"Hurry, child! We must find shelter. Once the storm reaches us these rocks will become slippery, and too treacherous to pass." She reached her hand behind her to firmly grasp her beloved daughter's gritty palm. So many times she had fallen. So many times Mendiel had feared her lost. Grimly, she pushed onward.
The first lashes of rain reached the stumbling Elves, still exposed on the sharp ridge of the mountain. Thunder crashed loudly above them and the little girl began to cry. Tears of fear mingled with the pouring rain and disappeared down her small chin. Mendiel saw that they had no choice but to stop, so she sat down at the underside of a large boulder and pulled the girl-child down to her. She placed the child's back against the stone and shielded her small body with her own, blocking her from the brunt of the storm, which soon shifted from rain to pelting hail.
Bloody welts began to form on Mendiel's exposed back, but she refused to cry out, aware that doing so would only frighten the child more. Small hands burrowed into her tunic and her daughter's heart shaped face was pressed into her breast. Her small body was shaking in terror, for the clamor of the storm was unlike anything she had ever heard and, on top of the unspoken anxiety of the last weeks, it had finally broken through her hard-fought resolve.
Lightning flashed so brightly that it lit the inside's of Mendiel's closed eyes a brilliant red. She clung more tightly to her wailing child, preparing for the crash of thunder that would certainly follow. When it came, it was so powerful that for long moments the Elf could no longer hear at all.
Dropping her hands from around the child's body, she covered the small pointed ears, hoping to spare her from some small bit of the cacophony raging about them. Still more lightning flashed, like tongues of liquid fire. Mendiel was afraid that her eardrums had been ruptured, for she could hear nothing, and there was a burning pain pulsing there.
The girl-child shrieked uncontrollably, digging her body closer against her mother's warmth, and her solidly reassuring presence. As each new crash of thunder shook the ground, her hysteria grew, and finally she hardly remembered who she was. All she was aware of was unreasoning terror.
At long last the storm began to pass, and Mendiel dared to lift her head and look about her. Icy pellets covered the ground as far as her eyes could see and, as she was an Elf, that was far indeed.
Cautiously she rose to her feet, pulling her still screaming child up after her. To her great dismay, the only reason she could tell the girl was screaming was to look at her face. She heard nothing. With her free hand she brought her fingers up to her ears, and when she pulled them away, there was blood on them. Icy fear coursed through her as she realized that she was likely right. Her eardrums had been ruptured. They had been so high up that the crash of thunder was nearer than it had any right to be, and it had been too much.
Desperately, she pulled her daughter's head side to side, inspecting her ears. Her breath came out in a great sigh when she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Taking the girl's head firmly in her hands, Mendiel forced the hysterical child to look at her.
"Love, I need you to listen to me closely. I've been hurt. I cannot hear. You will need to be my ears. Hold tight to me, and if you hear anything out of the ordinary, squeeze me hard. We are too close to Ithilien to give in now. The sanctuary of the Elf Colony is not far once we find our way out of these mountains."
The girl's large grey eyes widened and she opened her mouth to reply, but, remembering that her mother could not hear her, she stopped herself and nodded vigorously.
"Good girl. Now take my hand, and keep on moving. The way is dangerous, so step cautiously. I will be right behind you." Mendiel forced herself to keep a brave front for her daughter's sake, but inside she was quaking in fear. With her hearing gone, she was afraid that she would not have warning if Men came near.
Over long years, the race of Men had grown wary of all things different from themselves. Lost to them were the memories of the War of the Ring. Lost were the tales of valor which told of the great alliance of Men and Elves. So strong had their fear grown that in many places they had begun to attack and kill any Elves that they ran across. They traveled in packs, like wolves, for they feared the Elves, and rightly so. When attacked, an Elf will fight with skill, and one man alone would likely find himself killed, rather than his prey.
Such had been the case so many weeks past. Mendiel had taken her young daughter out to pick berries in the deep places of Mirkwood, and when they returned, berry-stained and laughing, to their small home, they had found it destroyed. Smoke rose from the smoldering ruins, and Mendiel had hidden the girl in the bushes before running out to see what was left.
There had been nothing. All of their possessions had been charred to ashes. Yet worst of all, Mendiel had found the broken body of her husband tossed carelessly aside, twisted in death. "Thandruin!" she had screamed, unable to comprehend that he was well and truly dead. "Thandruin!"
Only her child's plaintive voice calling, "Mother? What is happening?" had broken her out of her paralysis of loss. Leaving behind all that she had known and held dear, Mendiel grabbed the girl by her hand and pulled her away, her own instinct to preserve her progeny making her run with all the fleet speed of the Elves.
"Come, child. We must leave this place. Men may still be about. We cannot let them find us."
The girl had stumbled along in her wake, asking, "But what of father? Why can we not wait for him?"
Mendiel had hushed her savagely, "Quiet! There is great danger. Follow me now and do not ask questions."
Mutely the girl had obeyed her commands, and thus they had begun their long and arduous journey south. They were making for Ithilien, for rumor spoke of an Elf Colony founded there by Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. It was said that within the borders of the Colony all Elves were safe, for he guarded the borders with unfailing vigilance.
Mendiel did not know of a certainty if this was true, but, like many others before her, she chose to make the long, dangerous trek south, hoping to find safety for herself and for her daughter. Now she was afraid that they would not be able to complete the journey.
She regarded her daughter as she picked her cautious way over the icy rocks. So fair she was. Her hair was as pale as moonlight, and her deep grey eyes stared out at the world as if trying to absorb it all, every detail, down to the smallest blade of grass. Her heart-shaped face brought joy to all her saw her, for her smile was unfailing, but her appearance never ceased to cause Mendiel great wonder. Thandruin and herself both came from families with blue eyes and brown hair, so unusual among the Elves. It seemed strange to her that from their union they could bring forth a child so unearthly fair in her coloring.
They could not have loved her more, however, had she been a mirror image of themselves, and they had showered her with all the affection and attention they could muster. Now, to be thrust unprepared into the dangerous realities of the world… Mendiel shuddered. Only time would tell if the girl was prepared to handle the pressures. Time, which she was afraid they did not have.
They moved onward.
