Chapter 12: A New Hope

Rivers' POV

Gandalf and Eomer demolished the rest of the orcs that stood against us as they were supposed to and the expected talk on the hill had been held and dismissed, awaiting the party afterwards. Everyone was there, except for me.

This is the melancholic part where I reflect on how many lives we lost and how the hell I keep waking up alive and well.

The lost lives part was becoming more and more real with the growing silence. Not an hour ago was the place swarming with orcs and adrenaline-stuffed humans and elves. Sometimes people will come out, fling themselves over a corpse, and be dragged away by the ears, screaming, scratching, biting, and kicking. The aftermath was worse than the fall.

"Mornië utúlië," a voice breathes behind me. A high elf sits next to me, the silkiness matching the slippery tone of his hair.

I smile. Darkness has come.

"Mornië alantië, Legolas."

He manages to twist the remaining potion of his eternal frown into a smile. A sigh rushes from him. "Darkness has yet to fall, Riv- Lady Rivers." I cock an eyebrow.

He grins mournfully. "I apologize. In my mind you are Rivers, without the title."

In his mind? He thinks of me? "You can call me that...Riv sounds nice when an elf says it. Did you come out for a formal apology?"

"No, I have come to tell you of your brother. I was led by him to sanctuary."

"I saw him, too," I admit. I could tell that he had received some sort of transcendent call. Even an elf couldn't have kept me alive. "He sent me back to help, I guess. But he won't help me next time. I have proved twice that I can't defend myself. I think the best I can do is patch everyone up."

That would be better for Middle Earth's history. I don't want to end up as the reason for a victory and show up in a hobbit's history book. Legolas smiles, and we paused for long moments.

"I know not of a simple woman to be related to you, Rivers. I believe you have something to give us before the sun sets on us."

"The sun will set on Aragorn's crown, and victory will be ours to share." Yikes, the wisdom-ness is rubbing off. Too much Gandalf in that one.

A chuckle was drawn from him. "How do you know this?"

To him, I wasn't a prophetess. I was Rivers. I looked at those blue eyes, that long hair. His face seemed to create its own hallowing light. "Guren bêd enni."

"No i brestanneth anírach tírad vi amar."

I look up at him. "I don't speak much Sindarin. Just neat little things I pick up every now and then."

"Be the change you want to see in the world." His head turns. "There is one thing I must ask... why did you come to the gate before it fell?"

What is he talking about? "I woke up beneath you and the timber when the orc was stepping on us."

His eyes frosted over and he turned them on the sunrise. The crimsons and oranges bathed the land in colors existing without them. In that moment, a bloody scheme of colour washed over his face, and I could feel him repress what he was about to say.

"Let us not speak of tonight again. May legend take it, may fate accept it, may we abide by it."

I nodded. Life seemed so hatefully blissful here. Everyone lived for the calm stretches between the bloodshed, and died on the swords of their fathers. Not a soul escaped the reckless blunder; some fled before it, others fell into it. There was no in between, either you fought or you perished. Harsh, but teaching.

And so begins the final stage of war: the deep breath before the plunge. But when, pray tell, when will the fall come?

Fin

A/N: Book III is coming very soon, within the week! Please review so I can put this Book aside!