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Okay guys, no more reviews so we shall go on with the story now shall we? Of late the reviews seem to have stalled. Is my writing bad or something? Please let me know.

- Anarya of Lorien.

The Prophecy

Chapter 12 (Decisions)

The two ellith stood facing each other. A sword graced their hands. Vala, the queen of the elves sat on her throne. Sulé looked at her sister scowl at her from the other end of the arena.

"Lle desiel?" (Are you ready?) Mila nodded. The scowl on her face fixed. Sulé smirked as she ran towards her sister. With unexceptional swiftness, Sulé plunged the hilt of her sword into Mila's stomach. Mila's face widened with shock. The blow was not painful. But her sister had beaten her. Sulé jumped into the air and landed backwards at her original stand.

" Lle ume quel, Sulé." Vala complimented her daughter. Mila felt her insides boiling. The queen then turned to Mila.

"You need a lot of improvement, my child." There was disappointment in her voice. Mila closed her eyes as her insides clenched. She was trying her best. Couldn't her mother see that? She slowly nodded. Vala slowly walked towards Sulé and gently stroked her face.

"You are as good as any in this Arda, Sulé." Sulé smiled.

"Hannon lle, Naneth. I hope I never disappoint you. Well, I guess I will go to bed now. Quel du, Mila."

"Good night to you too, my sister." Bitterness flowed in her words. Sulé smiled at her apologetically. Vala smiled a little at this and dismissed her daughter. She then turned to Mila.

"Mila, tinu amin. Why such hard feelings?" she asked with a maternal love unlike anyone else. Mila turned to stare at the sky. Tears would fall any minute now. "I lost." Vala smiled at her daughter. She was still a child at heart sometimes. She placed a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"Mila, Amin sinta thaliolle e dagor!" (Mila, I know your strength in battle!)

"No, Naneth. I lost even then." She said tears choking her voice. Vala pulled Mila into her embrace.

"Hush now my child! You are my daughter aren't you? You are precious to me as you are. I love you Mila. More than any other life could. I wish you'd understand that." Vala stared at the depths of her daughter's eyes. Mila smiled a little as she hugged her mother.

"Amin hiraetha, Naneth." (I am sorry, mother.)

Vala laughed as she gently led her daughter to her chambers. "Maybe if I sing you to sleep-"

"I'd love that Naneth! I swear you have the best voice." Mila smiled at her beautiful mother. Vala's laughter echoed through the arena as they slowly left it.

Her eyes clouded with tears as she thought of her mother. Mila hastily wiped her tears away. She missed her mother very much. Maybe after all of this is over – but it was never over. She knew she couldn't turn back now. She whispered to the breeze that lifted her black hair gently.

"Amin hiraetha, Naneth. I can't be the old Mila again." She then turned back towards her room. Silme would have woken up. They had to leave. She had to leave.

The summer sun peeped into her room through the flowery curtains. Silme slowly rose from her bed to see the room freshly aired and decorated. A happy feeling flooded her insides. She had at last met her aunt. An elleth she thought dead. But as she smiled at that, her smile was marred a little when she thought of her mother. Sulé, the warrior and protector of Edona. Eledhwen, her sword now shone in the bright light from the sun outside.

" I miss you, Naneth. I so very do!" she sighed as she picked her armour from the table beside her and put it on. Legolas had been thoughtful to remove it when she was unconscious. She knew sleeping with the armour was very uncomfortable. At the thought of the elf, a smile crept back onto her face. She fastened her mother's sword to her waist and opened the door. She was housed in a felt atop an oak tree. It must be an elven dwelling. Elves bustled about busy with their own work.

"A happy city. Happy people."

"And pray the Valar they remain this way." A voice spoke behind her. Silme turned back to smile at her aunt.

"Aunt Mila, don't these people fear Nwalme?" a sigh escaped her aunt's lips as she wrung her hands.

"Yes. They are afraid. Very afraid. But fear alone is not life. Is it? They know to fight if need arises and they have lost a lot of lives till recently. Nwalme seems to have forgotten these people exist. But it is good in a way I believe!" she smiled.

Silme nodded. She knew what distracted the torment recently. The child of the prophecy. She then turned to her aunt.

"When do we leave?" Mila looked at her mildly surprised. "Leave? Leave where?" Silme looked at her aunt with an amused expression.

"To the fort of the minion of Nwalme. The minion who kidnapped the child of the prophecy. Honesty aunt Mila! You really do jest well." She said laughing. Mila's expression turned serious. She clasped Silme's hand gently.

"Silme, I must speak my mind. Nwalme is a dangerous enemy. It would be wise to let her rule for a while. Now is not the time when we must question her authority. Maybe in the future, but definitely not now."

"But-"

"No Silme. In the absence of your mother, I must intervene. You cannot go. You will hardly be able to make it to the fort! It is dangerous." Mila whispered urgently. Silme wrenched her hand free as she turned to look away from her aunt.

" I know you keep the best in mind when you speak, aunt Mila. But I cannot back away. It is not only for Aragorn and his child that I go but to seek my own revenge as well."

"What do you mean, child?"

"Nwalme murdered my mother. I swore when news of her death came back home that I would smite the hands that drew my mother's blood." Mila's hands shook a little. Her face turned pale as she turned away from Silme.

When I wish to spare you my child, you give me no choice but to kill you.

She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. She then turned to Silme.

"If this is what you stand firmly at, then I will not deter you. But you shall learn terrible things in the fort of the minion. It will break your heart!" Mila felt pain clutch her heart and squeeze it mercilessly. Nwalme was watching her. Warning her from revealing anything. She had to be true to her, her one mistress – Nwalme.

"What do you mean?" Silme asked as she caught her aunt's arms. Mila shook her head as she said,

"It was the place where your mother – er – died. It would bring back memories – to the both of us." The pain stopped a little. Mila heaved a sigh of relief. Silme closed her eyes as she breathed.

"I do not mind, aunt Mila. As long as no one else gets to endure this same fate, I do not mind." She then stormed out of the flet. Mila crumpled onto the floor.

"Why am I being the one tormented?" None knew what she really meant.

"She wishes that I never leave this place. She wishes that I never come with you and Aragorn. She thinks Nwalme will kill me." She said as she gently stroked his golden hair. Legolas sighed a little. The breeze from Silme's window was light and cheerful yet he didn't feel that way.

"And I think she is right. I cannot lose you, Silme." Silme stopped her actions.

"What did you say?" she whispered.

"Mila is your aunt. She would only consider your safety. Now we know that Nwalme has a personal grudge with you, it would be unwise and unfair to take you there now. Mila shall tell us the way to the fort. And you shall stay he-" she closed his mouth with her hand as she leaned in to lay her forehead on his.

"Please Legolas, not anymore. Not from you." She opened her eyes to see the elf stare at her deeply. Tears spilled from her eyes as she breathed in.

" 'Amin mela lle', you told me. Then don't leave me here. If I were to die then it better be by your side. With you, if the Valar desire. Not far away where I shall be safe and you shall find your future uncertain. It will be better to die in battle with you than to die of a broken heart alone. Please, let me come. I beg of you!" she closed her eyes in sadness. Legolas gently placed his hands on her cheeks as he moved closer to gently kiss her.

"Silme-" he began. "Amin uuma malia." She replied firmly. (I don't care.) Her hands wreathed his neck as she hugged him tightly. His tunic soaked slowly in her tears.

"Amin uuma malia, melamin." (I don't care, my love) Legolas sighed as he stroked her back trying to console her. The oil in the room was running low. What was destined for them? He questioned the Valar silently. The gentle wind was the only reply he got.

Translations:

Lle ume quel, Sulé – You did well, Sul

Quel du – Good night

Tinu amin – my daughter

Arda – Middle earth in elven

Amin mela lle – I love you

Small chapter eh? Well, a chapter has to be stopped at the right place and so, tell me what you think? I am open for suggestion you know! Please read and review.

- Anarya of Lorien.