ack, sorry about that people, there was a little error, thanks for catching it. I get some things mixed up easily. anyway, please enjoy. We've tried hard to research this fic well and keep as close to the original storyline as possible. thanks for reading!
Chapter Three
When Nariel was lost in thought, she had a habit of chewing her fingernails. A nasty habit, her mother would always be quick to point out, and whenever she caught herself doing it, she would quickly throw her hands into the soft pockets of her elven dress. She frowned, realizing she'd done it again and rubbed her temples. She'd been doing it more and more recently. She supposed it was because time seemed to be moving so much slower lately.
Nariel had proudly served the Lady Arwen as one of her handmaids and though perhaps Lady Arwen wouldn't have agreed, she had considered herself to be a friend. She had held Arwen in the highest esteem and had always aspired to be like her. Now that both Lady Arwen and King Elessor had passed on, things were... difficult. She missed that soft smile her Queen had always worn, and the natural grace and great presence she'd carried. Elessor's sons and daughters were doing a fine job of running the kingdom of Gondor, but that was a small comfort to her. Without Arwen, she'd been left to take care of the many daughters she'd left behind. They were growing into fine young women and with half elven blood running through their veins, they would no doubt keep their great beauty for many years to come.
Nariel herself was rather plain as elves were concerned, though human and elven standards of beauty could be vastly different. Nearly all elves had that same delicate bone structure and porcelain features. She was still young for an elf, only a few centuries old. Nariel shoved her hands into her pockets and hurried down yet another hallway of the castle of Gondor. She carefully sidestepped the many people always rushing here and there, doing this and that, and always, Always in a hurry.
Nariel threaded her way through them all to the rooms that belonged to Eldarion's sisters. She'd woken up later than usual and was the last of the handmaids to arrive. She was far from being the head maid, but that didn't really matter to her. She smiled lethargically at one of the girls and sat behind her, combing her hair. All she had really wanted was to marry, have a family, that sort of thing. But she in the middle of many other sisters in her own family. Her eldest sisters had all been married off to elves of higher blood. Her family seemed to have achieved all it could through marraige and were reluctant to try to find yet another suitable husband for yet another daughter. They'd sent her off to Rivendell, to be one of the many servants under the great king Elrond.
Nariel's fingers weaved through the young girl's hair, twisting in a few flowers that had recently bloomed as well as other greenery. When she'd finished, she handed the girl a mirror. The young face smiled pleasantly back at her. "Thank you Nariel. Fetch me my dress too won't you? The blue one. I think it matches my eyes rather nicely."
Nariel nodded and hurried to the smaller chamber that was the girl's closet. She selected the dress from one of many silk laden, frilly affairs and carefully tied the girl into it. The young woman smiled her approval and ran off to meet with her sisters who had already begun their daily routine of gossiping, laughing, and throwing a casual wink at any unsuspecting male in their vicinity. She shook her head and hurried on to help with her share of the duties in the kitchens.
Hours later Nariel finally reached her small private chambers and stretched her arms high above her head. She began to pull her workdress over her head, but was startled by sudden loud noises coming from just outside her room. She felt a lump coming from her throat as the loud noises changed to horrific smashing and screams of terror and pain. She leaned closer to her door and opened it the smallest crack. She was thrown backward as a huge figure hammered down her door and blocked her exit. A large, foul, and very smelly orc was standing only feet from her. He was carrying what looked to be a very heavy chunk of wood, no doubt used as a club. Blood dotted and stained it in random patterns. Nariel felt behind her for something, anything she could use to fight back. The orc was moving in closer and she could smell it's putrid breath.
"What's a matter precious? You wouldn't be scared now would ya?" he smiled, revealing rows of yellowed and missing teeth.
Nariel screamed, closed her eyes, and threw whatever it was her fingers had finally found. A large chunk of what had been her door bounced harmlessly off the orc's chest. He let out a laugh and Nariel found another broken shard of wood. This time, she thought; she wouldn't miss. She doubted she'd be given another chance at this. She hurled herself at the orc and slammed the shard into his shin. Caught off guard by what had seemed to be a helpless elf maiden, the orc howled in pain and lost his balance. Nariel took the opportunity to leap out the now clear doorway and out into the hall.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The annoying cliche' entered her mind as she watched many more orcs, all smashing and destroying everything in their paths. It was totally hopeless! She couldn't possibly get past this many orcs!
"They've taken that sniveling half elven king!"
A roar of triumph went up among the half naked orcs and weapons were raised to the air. Fear pumped through Nariel as a few of the orcs took notice of her. She screamed again and ran, looking for an exit, any escape! There were windows every few yards, but they were several stories above ground! There was a moat, but surely the fall itself would kill her, wouldn't it? Nariel skidded to a halt as more orcs were approaching from the other end of the hall. The others were catching up as well. She felt something large and blunt slam into her side. The window nearest her shattered as she nearly went through it. She clung to the stone desperately, but she could see there was no chance. As one of the orcs leaned in, prying her fingers from the window and giving her a final push, he whispered in a nasty, rasping voice, "Death to all Elvenkind..."