Author's note: Hello darlings! It took me quite a while before
inspiration hit. My muse only feeds on reviews *hint, hint*. Anyways, a
shout out to Sokochan for being my first reviewer WoOhoO for you! Oh
yeah, before I forget, I kind of stumbled upon the little fact that "Amme"
is in Quenya. In Sindarin the translation would be "Naneth" or "Nana." I
hope I'll find some space the following chapters to explain why Irima calls
her naneth "Amme" when the elves of Middle Earth speak Sindarin. Ah, we'll
see, we'll see.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkein. Yes, even Eriador
I sat there as silently as I could facing my companions as they explained to the lord and lady of Lothlorien as to why we were delayed upon arrival.
"Spiders," came the curt reply. I sat there waiting patiently as I could for an explanation that did not come. It seemed that my usually garrulous companions were unnaturally reticent. I let my legs swing a little as they dangled from the edge of the chair. Spiders? Spiders were so small, so harmless; Amme would surely laugh when I tell her that our companions told the Lady of the Light that spiders had raided our campsite. Amme could even be angry with them for telling such a story! But something hesitated in me then. They would be angry. They would all call me a snitch. I stilled my legs and looked around at my company. They were talking about something else now. Instantly, I was sorry for missing the exchange about the spiders. I wouldn't be able to tell Amme the whole story now and my heart sank at the thought. My companions began to leave the receiving hall, as servants appeared to escort us to our rooms. But I didn't move; I just kept staring sullenly at my legs, ignoring the hand my nurse, Lomiel, was now offering me.
"Come, Irima. We must get you ready for bed."
***
"What were they talking about out there?" I asked as Lomiel quickly undressed me.
"Well, what did you hear?" Was the strangely guarded answer.
"Spiders did not invade our camp, Lomiel! Spiders are so small and harmless. You were lying when you said that!" I chided her as if she had committed a great wrong. But my nursemaid only sighed and began her patient and careful explanation of what had happened.
"How can an elf pass into shadow? We are immortal, are we not?" I asked incredulously. I wanted to laugh at how silly her explanation was, but I did not want her to feel offended after she had explained everything so patiently. Others would not have been so tolerant of my insistent probing, I was sure.
"Yes, but elves can be slain. We are also capable of dying of grief."
"Does Amme know of what happened?" I said as I sank into the tub of warm water. I picked off the pieces of lavender and rosemary that clung to my hair as I waited for Lomiel to answer. She hesitated then and turned away to pick up my discarded garments. When she turned back to me, I stared back at her expectantly. If Amme didn't know, I could tell her everything myself in the morning.
"I'm sure she does, Irima."
"Oh," I said disheartened. Perhaps some other time, I told myself as Lomiel began to wash my hair.
***
My eyes blinked in the darkness as my limbs searched blindly for familiar warmth to press myself against. My feet were cold as they moved under the covers in search of my mother's warm legs. But as I turned, I realized I was alone in a gigantic bed, in a strange room, in some place that was not my home. In the corner, Lomiel was fast asleep on a chair. Her eyes were wide open as if they were looking straight at me, but her irises were pale-almost invisible in the darkness-a sure sign she was sleeping. I felt so alone, so abandoned. I quickly wiped away the tears that trickled down my cheeks as I fought the unpleasant emptiness that crawled up from the bottom of my stomach. Amme always slept beside me when we weren't home. I glanced quickly at Lomiel to make sure she hadn't seen me crying. I was too old to cry, too old to run to my parents after a nightmare, too old to tell on the other children who teased me; I wouldn't have anyone thinking I was a baby even if I still felt like one most of the time.
I crawled off the bed, so careful not to wake Lomiel. I wanted to look for Amme. She would say I was being childish for looking for her, but I didn't care. I was a child!
The corridors were cold and deserted and seemed haunted as a song echoed through them. The tune was sad and mournful, but why? Why must everything in 'Lorien be so solemn? I thought. I pressed myself against the wall as I studied the other doors along the hall; biting my lip as I guessed which one my mother was hiding behind.
"What are you looking for, Irima?" A cold chill crept up my spine as the low whisper met my ears. My eyes darted guiltily around the hall but I was alone. In my head, ghost stories told by the other children in Eriador spun silently in my memory-daring me to believe in them. In many tales there had been voices, low and breathless, that had led heroes and heroines to their doom. My heart beat wildly as the possibility of truth in the tales hit me. I covered my ears and prayed silently for the ghost to go away.
"You should not be awake at this hour." The voice said again. Perhaps it was a ghost that had spoken to me in the great receiving room where I met the lord and lady of Lothlorien! A desperate sob escaped from my lips when my hands reached up for the doorknob and I discovered that the room I had been staying in was locked from the outside.
"Irima," It called. I pressed myself against a dark corner and covered my ears and closed my eyes.
"Irima,"
"Go away," I silently pleaded. "Go!"
"Irima!" My head snapped up as I recognized the voice of Elvean. I quickly stood up and blinked back the tears that had almost begun to fall. "What are you doing out of bed?" He asked more gently. He crouched down until we were eye to eye. I couldn't answer right away. How could I tell him about waking up alone? How could I tell him about the ghost? He wouldn't believe me. How could he understand I was afraid when he himself isn't afraid of anything? How.
"Amme!" I shouted, quickly remembering why I was up. "I want to see her!"
"No, little one." He said stroking my head. "You will see her in the morning."
"Now!" I insisted. From behind him I saw a flurry of white robes. I immediately recognized the willowy elves clad in them as healers as they entered a dimly lit room on the other end of the corridor. I heard the soft voices of my mother's handmaidens coming from the room. Surely they would know where my mother was if they weren't already in the same room with her!
"Amme!" I cried as I made a mad dash for the door, which was positioned tauntingly ajar. I heard Elvean sigh as his soft footsteps followed me, but did not speed up to thwart me in my pursuit. I saw a flash of my mother's hair from the doorway, but it was soon blocked as I reached my destination.
"Irima! Go back to sleep!" Arinel-the handmaiden-exclaimed. She waved her hands away dismissively, but froze at the sight of Elvean.
"Let her in," he spoke. For a moment they passed looks above my head- something I discovered that adults liked to do, thinking you don't know they're doing it. But I didn't care what the looks meant as long as I could see Amme. At least now I knew where she was. Finally, Arinel nodded. But before she let me in, she turned to face the others inside, telling them I was about to enter.
***
Amme lay on the bed, dressed in a white dress that I never knew she had. It was comfortable, not stiff and imperial looking like the dresses she usually wore. The fabric was soft and creamy, and I thought that it suited her more than anything else she had ever worn. I wondered then, why she didn't dress this way more often. I traipsed over to the side of the bed and gently touched her shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her hands lay folded on her abdomen. I just stood there, waiting for her to acknowledge my presence with an impatient, "Speak, Irima." But Amme didn't speak, Amme didn't move, she didn't even blink or even attempt roll her eyes crossly at me, silently telling me my presence was not welcome at this ungodly hour.
I touched the tips of my fingers to her face, knowing very well that I was risking to be publicly reprimanded-something I loathed more than anything. Her skin was cold and firm, and shone like newly polished candlesticks. When she did not say anything, I pulled urgently on her arm calling her name, demanding my presence to be acknowledged-but she did not move, or even sigh in frustration at my obvious show of impatience. I heard someone cry out from behind me, half expecting him or her to pull me away from my mother now, but no one dared to come close to me. No one even dared to breathe.
*A.N.: Yeah, I know this is a sucky place to stop but it's now time for you to go and submit a review! Just click on that little purple box on the left..all you gotta do is click, click baby and you're there! Just type in "I like it" or "I don't like it, goodbye", that's all I'm asking for. For the love of anything, holy or not, please review! Pretty please! Please.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkein. Yes, even Eriador
I sat there as silently as I could facing my companions as they explained to the lord and lady of Lothlorien as to why we were delayed upon arrival.
"Spiders," came the curt reply. I sat there waiting patiently as I could for an explanation that did not come. It seemed that my usually garrulous companions were unnaturally reticent. I let my legs swing a little as they dangled from the edge of the chair. Spiders? Spiders were so small, so harmless; Amme would surely laugh when I tell her that our companions told the Lady of the Light that spiders had raided our campsite. Amme could even be angry with them for telling such a story! But something hesitated in me then. They would be angry. They would all call me a snitch. I stilled my legs and looked around at my company. They were talking about something else now. Instantly, I was sorry for missing the exchange about the spiders. I wouldn't be able to tell Amme the whole story now and my heart sank at the thought. My companions began to leave the receiving hall, as servants appeared to escort us to our rooms. But I didn't move; I just kept staring sullenly at my legs, ignoring the hand my nurse, Lomiel, was now offering me.
"Come, Irima. We must get you ready for bed."
***
"What were they talking about out there?" I asked as Lomiel quickly undressed me.
"Well, what did you hear?" Was the strangely guarded answer.
"Spiders did not invade our camp, Lomiel! Spiders are so small and harmless. You were lying when you said that!" I chided her as if she had committed a great wrong. But my nursemaid only sighed and began her patient and careful explanation of what had happened.
"How can an elf pass into shadow? We are immortal, are we not?" I asked incredulously. I wanted to laugh at how silly her explanation was, but I did not want her to feel offended after she had explained everything so patiently. Others would not have been so tolerant of my insistent probing, I was sure.
"Yes, but elves can be slain. We are also capable of dying of grief."
"Does Amme know of what happened?" I said as I sank into the tub of warm water. I picked off the pieces of lavender and rosemary that clung to my hair as I waited for Lomiel to answer. She hesitated then and turned away to pick up my discarded garments. When she turned back to me, I stared back at her expectantly. If Amme didn't know, I could tell her everything myself in the morning.
"I'm sure she does, Irima."
"Oh," I said disheartened. Perhaps some other time, I told myself as Lomiel began to wash my hair.
***
My eyes blinked in the darkness as my limbs searched blindly for familiar warmth to press myself against. My feet were cold as they moved under the covers in search of my mother's warm legs. But as I turned, I realized I was alone in a gigantic bed, in a strange room, in some place that was not my home. In the corner, Lomiel was fast asleep on a chair. Her eyes were wide open as if they were looking straight at me, but her irises were pale-almost invisible in the darkness-a sure sign she was sleeping. I felt so alone, so abandoned. I quickly wiped away the tears that trickled down my cheeks as I fought the unpleasant emptiness that crawled up from the bottom of my stomach. Amme always slept beside me when we weren't home. I glanced quickly at Lomiel to make sure she hadn't seen me crying. I was too old to cry, too old to run to my parents after a nightmare, too old to tell on the other children who teased me; I wouldn't have anyone thinking I was a baby even if I still felt like one most of the time.
I crawled off the bed, so careful not to wake Lomiel. I wanted to look for Amme. She would say I was being childish for looking for her, but I didn't care. I was a child!
The corridors were cold and deserted and seemed haunted as a song echoed through them. The tune was sad and mournful, but why? Why must everything in 'Lorien be so solemn? I thought. I pressed myself against the wall as I studied the other doors along the hall; biting my lip as I guessed which one my mother was hiding behind.
"What are you looking for, Irima?" A cold chill crept up my spine as the low whisper met my ears. My eyes darted guiltily around the hall but I was alone. In my head, ghost stories told by the other children in Eriador spun silently in my memory-daring me to believe in them. In many tales there had been voices, low and breathless, that had led heroes and heroines to their doom. My heart beat wildly as the possibility of truth in the tales hit me. I covered my ears and prayed silently for the ghost to go away.
"You should not be awake at this hour." The voice said again. Perhaps it was a ghost that had spoken to me in the great receiving room where I met the lord and lady of Lothlorien! A desperate sob escaped from my lips when my hands reached up for the doorknob and I discovered that the room I had been staying in was locked from the outside.
"Irima," It called. I pressed myself against a dark corner and covered my ears and closed my eyes.
"Irima,"
"Go away," I silently pleaded. "Go!"
"Irima!" My head snapped up as I recognized the voice of Elvean. I quickly stood up and blinked back the tears that had almost begun to fall. "What are you doing out of bed?" He asked more gently. He crouched down until we were eye to eye. I couldn't answer right away. How could I tell him about waking up alone? How could I tell him about the ghost? He wouldn't believe me. How could he understand I was afraid when he himself isn't afraid of anything? How.
"Amme!" I shouted, quickly remembering why I was up. "I want to see her!"
"No, little one." He said stroking my head. "You will see her in the morning."
"Now!" I insisted. From behind him I saw a flurry of white robes. I immediately recognized the willowy elves clad in them as healers as they entered a dimly lit room on the other end of the corridor. I heard the soft voices of my mother's handmaidens coming from the room. Surely they would know where my mother was if they weren't already in the same room with her!
"Amme!" I cried as I made a mad dash for the door, which was positioned tauntingly ajar. I heard Elvean sigh as his soft footsteps followed me, but did not speed up to thwart me in my pursuit. I saw a flash of my mother's hair from the doorway, but it was soon blocked as I reached my destination.
"Irima! Go back to sleep!" Arinel-the handmaiden-exclaimed. She waved her hands away dismissively, but froze at the sight of Elvean.
"Let her in," he spoke. For a moment they passed looks above my head- something I discovered that adults liked to do, thinking you don't know they're doing it. But I didn't care what the looks meant as long as I could see Amme. At least now I knew where she was. Finally, Arinel nodded. But before she let me in, she turned to face the others inside, telling them I was about to enter.
***
Amme lay on the bed, dressed in a white dress that I never knew she had. It was comfortable, not stiff and imperial looking like the dresses she usually wore. The fabric was soft and creamy, and I thought that it suited her more than anything else she had ever worn. I wondered then, why she didn't dress this way more often. I traipsed over to the side of the bed and gently touched her shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her hands lay folded on her abdomen. I just stood there, waiting for her to acknowledge my presence with an impatient, "Speak, Irima." But Amme didn't speak, Amme didn't move, she didn't even blink or even attempt roll her eyes crossly at me, silently telling me my presence was not welcome at this ungodly hour.
I touched the tips of my fingers to her face, knowing very well that I was risking to be publicly reprimanded-something I loathed more than anything. Her skin was cold and firm, and shone like newly polished candlesticks. When she did not say anything, I pulled urgently on her arm calling her name, demanding my presence to be acknowledged-but she did not move, or even sigh in frustration at my obvious show of impatience. I heard someone cry out from behind me, half expecting him or her to pull me away from my mother now, but no one dared to come close to me. No one even dared to breathe.
*A.N.: Yeah, I know this is a sucky place to stop but it's now time for you to go and submit a review! Just click on that little purple box on the left..all you gotta do is click, click baby and you're there! Just type in "I like it" or "I don't like it, goodbye", that's all I'm asking for. For the love of anything, holy or not, please review! Pretty please! Please.