Prologue
It was cold, brutally cold for a Mirkwood night. Inwe pulled her satin cloak around her shoulders, but it did little to quell the chill seeping into her bones. She continued pacing, trying to walk to stay warm, but to no avail. She looked like a caged tiger, pacing across her room. Sleep would not come, and it had not come for the past nights. She thought back on the last few years of the world, and how the predicament that they were in widened into an inescapable chasm. Middle-Earth had been saved when The One Ring had been dropped into the fires of Mount Doom. Sauron had been totally destroyed, and Isengard and Barad-dur were silent. Light had crept back into the world, and the shadows had vanished.
But the closer you are to the light, the greater your shadow becomes.
How did she think of that? She began pacing faster. After Sauron had been destroyed, the world was at peace. But it was a ruse. As soon as the darkness had left it reappeared. Lothlorien's forests strange creatures began praying on the Elven patrols meant to watch the borders for any orcs that may be left from Sauron's Downfall. The elves of Rivendell could not venture from their homes, the trees were so dangerous. Any who ventured in the Plains of Rohan would fall prey to shadows. It seemed that Mirkwood was one of the only places left that was untouched, but they could not hope for much longer.
"Inwe, are you still awake?" She started. She had not heard her sister enter.
"Uma, seleramin. I could not sleep, Alatariel." She halted her pacing, looking up into the face of her twin. They were almost identical. Both of them had fair skin, and bright golden hair. They were tall, slender, and graceful, as most elves were, and would have been called exotically beautiful by mere men. Their hands were deft, but callused. Inwe was beyond skilled with a sword, and Alatariel was likewise with a bow. They were almost indistinguishable, save for their eye color. Inwe's eyes were as blue as the midnight sky reflected upon the ocean. Alatariel's were a deeper violet than the most beautiful amethyst.
"Neither could I." Alatariel say down on the bed. "You can feel it, can't you?"
"What?" Responded Inwe, her heart quickening for no apparent reason. She looked about the room, suddenly afraid of the shadows.
"I'm not sure, but I can feel it. I can smell it. I can sense it. The winds of change are fast approaching. We must adjust our sails, or our mast will be broken." Alatariel's eyes became unfocused, as if she were dreaming while awake. She snapped back to attention, looking her sister in the eye. "We must adjust. I fear that we are not destined to be with our people."
"What are you speaking of?" Asked Inwe, walking away from the bed toward the window. She then spun around, pointing her finger at her sister. "You have had one of our visions! What did it tell you?"
"The closer you are to the light, the greater your shadow becomes." Murmured Alatariel, "We must escape the light, before the darkness swallows us all."
It was cold, brutally cold for a Mirkwood night. Inwe pulled her satin cloak around her shoulders, but it did little to quell the chill seeping into her bones. She continued pacing, trying to walk to stay warm, but to no avail. She looked like a caged tiger, pacing across her room. Sleep would not come, and it had not come for the past nights. She thought back on the last few years of the world, and how the predicament that they were in widened into an inescapable chasm. Middle-Earth had been saved when The One Ring had been dropped into the fires of Mount Doom. Sauron had been totally destroyed, and Isengard and Barad-dur were silent. Light had crept back into the world, and the shadows had vanished.
But the closer you are to the light, the greater your shadow becomes.
How did she think of that? She began pacing faster. After Sauron had been destroyed, the world was at peace. But it was a ruse. As soon as the darkness had left it reappeared. Lothlorien's forests strange creatures began praying on the Elven patrols meant to watch the borders for any orcs that may be left from Sauron's Downfall. The elves of Rivendell could not venture from their homes, the trees were so dangerous. Any who ventured in the Plains of Rohan would fall prey to shadows. It seemed that Mirkwood was one of the only places left that was untouched, but they could not hope for much longer.
"Inwe, are you still awake?" She started. She had not heard her sister enter.
"Uma, seleramin. I could not sleep, Alatariel." She halted her pacing, looking up into the face of her twin. They were almost identical. Both of them had fair skin, and bright golden hair. They were tall, slender, and graceful, as most elves were, and would have been called exotically beautiful by mere men. Their hands were deft, but callused. Inwe was beyond skilled with a sword, and Alatariel was likewise with a bow. They were almost indistinguishable, save for their eye color. Inwe's eyes were as blue as the midnight sky reflected upon the ocean. Alatariel's were a deeper violet than the most beautiful amethyst.
"Neither could I." Alatariel say down on the bed. "You can feel it, can't you?"
"What?" Responded Inwe, her heart quickening for no apparent reason. She looked about the room, suddenly afraid of the shadows.
"I'm not sure, but I can feel it. I can smell it. I can sense it. The winds of change are fast approaching. We must adjust our sails, or our mast will be broken." Alatariel's eyes became unfocused, as if she were dreaming while awake. She snapped back to attention, looking her sister in the eye. "We must adjust. I fear that we are not destined to be with our people."
"What are you speaking of?" Asked Inwe, walking away from the bed toward the window. She then spun around, pointing her finger at her sister. "You have had one of our visions! What did it tell you?"
"The closer you are to the light, the greater your shadow becomes." Murmured Alatariel, "We must escape the light, before the darkness swallows us all."