by Luinil
Disclaimer: I take no right to any publication nor characters written by Mr. Tolkein, and I will be using his Quenya (Elvish) language in this purely fictional story. This work is based on the movie trilogy, though my knowledge of the books may slip in every now and then by accident. You will have to bare with me.
Notes:
I am not so sure of the outcome of this story yet, so I have rated
it to the best of my judgement, and at the moment, it looks to be rather
sad. (It may never reach a point where a "R" rating is warranted on the
other hand...) Sorry for any grammar errors in the first chapter, I will
have to start proofreading better =). I don't know how to make accents
on letters, so when I'm writing Elvish, it will look a little unusual.
Sorry for that, but there's nothing I can do. I MADE A HUGE MISTAKE....
I SAID THE ELF WAS LIGHT-HAIRED.... HE HAS BLACK!!!! SORRY!! I still
have no idea how long the story will be, but, as I stated earlier, I hate
to let things drag out, so it will be farely fast paced, and I will complete
it quickly for those who hate abandoned projects. I think that's everything....
Enjoy! -------'---@
P.S.- For those that wrote a review while I was writing this chapter,
I'm sorry. I posted this the same day as I posted the first chapter, so
I did not get a chance to read any, if there are any at all... If you did
write a review, I will address you personally (and kindly even if it is
a flame) in the following chapters. Namarie!
CHAPTER TWO
Eowyn braced herself against the table in the kitchen while she waited for the water to boil. She would bring the elf some food in a bit. It would be best to let him sleep while he could. But questions still plagued her mind. Why was he in that room? Who had brought him back and why? But more distressing, during that moment, where she had seen his blood, why would she wish that it were her own? She knew that those were no thoughts of valor... The counter to that thought scared her. Did she wish for death? No.... She realized. She wished that her wounds were visible. The injuries she carried were in the heart, and were not so easily healed as those of skin and bone. If her pains had been true blood, her spirit and will would have conquered. The peircing feeling in her heart, she knew, could never heal alone.
A plump woman came into the kitchen, scurrying for fresh rags. Eowyn called to her, "Nurse! Who is the man in the bed room?" The woman looked up, not having noticed Eowyn before. "Oh my Lady Eowyn..." "The man, with the stomach injury...." The woman became ruffled, and stuttered. "Why .....my lady... A stomach injury? I don't know of who you speak....Why, there are many men ......in many beds 'round here..." Eowyn became impatient. "The elf. Why has he not been treated? Who left him to lay in the dark until his wound claimed his life?!" The woman grew still, twisting one of the rags in her hands nervously. "My Lady, I do not know.... Anar brought him to us.... He said that Eomer ordered us to keep him... that he knew something 'bout Theodred...." Eowyn's anger swelled. She grabbed the rags from the woman. "And you would let such a man die!" The woman called after Eowyn, but she did not care. This elf, whoever he may be, would not slip into oblivion... Not while it was in her hands.
When she entered the room, she found him standing, barely, by the window. "You are standing...." She said in awe. He turned towards her, eyes peircingly clear. "You mended it well..." Eowyn came beside him, intrusively lifting his shirt. The bandage was in place, but the wound seemed already a week old. "How..." Her finger lightly traced it. The elf's hand pulled hers away gently. "When we survive a wound, it does not last long.... AS you said, I am immortal." Eowyn stood straight up, noticing the definite comparison of his build to a ordinary man. "You still stand as though the wound is fresh, Lord Elf. I would not try your luck so early, even if you gifted with that grace." Then he smiled, and as false as it was, Eowyn had not seen a smile in months, and the unfamiliararity caused her lips to part into one as well. She looked away from him, sudden relief flowing through her veins. He spoke once more, "I am willing to take your advice, if only for a short time......" There was a pause between them, and Eowyn became uncomfortable again, a silent cough escaping her lips. "My name is Eowyn.... I am King Theoden's niece." (*Luinil- I hope that's correct.... I can't remember*) The elf's eyes softened, and when he spoke, his voice was noble and grand. "I am Tareldar. I am in great debt to your kindness in tending to me, Lady Eowyn." He kneeled, placing soft lips upon her hand. The chivalry made her feel ill at ease. Romanticism was never a part of her life, unless you counted war stories.... or Grima Wormtongue....
There was a tap at the door, and both turned to see the above spoken in the doorway, mindlessly tapping a single finger upon the already open door. He had witnessed the whole thing. Tareldar moved away from Eowyn almost instinctively, but not obviously, and left Eowyn to regain her composure. "So he has awoken from his nightmare, I see..." Grima snaked towards them, his watchful eye inspecting everything about them. He stopped in front of Eowyn, his pale and frightening eyes staring her down. "My lady... You are needed in the Great Hall..." Eowyn felt frozen in his gaze for a moment, as though he were staring at a bird in a cage. The thought sickened her, and she brushed passed him, a single lock of her curly hair, sliding thru his upraised hand. His eyes lingered on her a moment more in sad longing, and then he turned to Tareldar, his face twisting into one of anger and contempt. "As for you, Lord Tareldar, it would be wise to keep to your bed, less you wish to return to your woods..." Tareldar stood proudly. His voice spoke in quiet but powerful notes. "Dil serke vasa gurth" (You are devoted to darkness, and consumed by death.) He switched back to commontongue. "I know I will never see Fangorn again... as you do..." Grima smiled in a twisted way, turning from him. "Perhaps it would have been better for you if Fair Eowyn had not found you." He began to close the door as he left, "You will rot in this darkness, Prince Tareldar..." The door closed on the elf's murderous face, leaving no light in the room.