Title: The Voice of Deceit (Chapter 1/?)
Author: The Converted
Rating: R
Genre: Suspense/Tragedy
Summary: Arwen receives visions that she believes foretell Aragorn's death. But as she begins to unravel the mystery, things aren't what they seem. Who is sending these visions, but more importantly, can they be trusted?
Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien… nor do I claim to be.
A/N: I've always thought that Fate had a sense of humour, which is why my muse prodded me to write this.
"Rowe's Rule: the odds are five to six that the light at the end of the tunnel is the headlight of an oncoming train."
This story is dedicated to InuYasha's Saucy Wench for not killing me, and helping with a title. Your understanding is well deserved, as is your silence. HUZZAH for randomness!
The Voice of Deceit
Chapter One: The Stage is Set
A pair of gnarled hands stretched themselves instinctively towards the warmth of the fire, fingers flexing above the heat. The old flesh began to warm as the outside air grew cooler, whipping the flames violently toward the stooped figure.
He didn't move, eyes transfixed on the man pacing in front of him.
"Skittering about like a caged rabbit won't do me any good you know," he bellowed.
"Neither will delaying the inevitable," the younger man countered, giving his master a withering look.
"Well if you had even a shred of my experience Tunnas,you'd know that these things take time." The anxiousness in his voice betrayed him as he eyed his apprentice warily.
"And if I had any shred of your experience, I'd be as damned near death as you."
Ithron's deep laugh filled the clearing, giving way to a rasping cough that shook his emaciated frame. He smiled weakly at Tunnas, inwardly cursing his failing health. How could he be the stern, commanding figure the boy needed, when his body betrayed him every chance it got?
Squaring his shoulders, he closed his eyes, ready to prove that he was still nothing to laugh at.
A familiar warmth covered his body as he stretched his mind outwards. Focusing on his current appearance, Ithron's features began to alter subtlety. The nose shrank, the chin broadened, the skin became taught. He heard Tunnas gasp as he stood, no longer the frail man from only moments before.
Steel grey hair was now black, frail limbs thick and muscular, pale complexion replaced with firm, tanned skin.
Ithron smiled at the look on Tunnas' face. "Parlor tricks my son, simple parlor tricks." He offered the youth his outstretched hand. "Come, there are more important matters at hand."
"About time," he smirked. Begrudgingly accepting the kind offer, Tunnas grasped Ithron's hand, surprised at the strength emanating from his mentor as he was helped to his feet.
They strode closer to the trees, shadows of firelight playing on their backs.
Armed with strength and confidence, Ithron was ready to begin. He placed both hands on the tree in front of him, relishing the fact that he could distinguish the feel of his skin from the rough bark he was touching. Letting his chin drop to his chest, he reached out once again with his mind.
Cursed once again with sleeplessness, Arwen was easy enough to detect… but she was not alone. Quickly scanning her companion's mind, Ithron learned that the blond Elf seated to her left was Glorfindel of Gondolin, the famed Balrog slayer.
He had not planned on having any witnesses, but time was of the essence, and he needed to contact the Evenstar now.
Detecting only concern from Glorfindel, Ithron turned his attentions toward Arwen. There was only one thing on her thoughts: Aragorn.
Ah yes, Aragorn, the whole reason Tunnas and Ithron were out in the cold instead of sleeping peacefully like the rest of Middle-earth. That blasted Aragorn, the descendant of Isildur, the man who held the fate of all Middle-earth on his shoulders.
The pair continued talking, unaware of the fact that their minds had been probed during the conversation.
Arwen lay on her back as a comfortable silence settled over them. "It is time," Ithron whispered. He projected the images into her mind, fast and unrelenting.
Swords clanged together loudly as Aragorn's face came into view, drenched and red from his exertions.
He bit his lip in concentration, blocking a blow aimed at his neck. Deftly twisting the sword hilt upward, he deflected another, his feet dancing around the shadowy foe before him.
Absorbing a kick to the chest, Aragorn screamed in frustration. He got up once again, eliciting another series of parries as he lunged toward his opponent.
Turning suddenly, he thrust his sword toward the figure appearing from the woods; a dark, shadowy face.
His face twisted in pain as he dropped to his knees, staring at the dark blood covering his hands.
A black crow landed on the branch above him, watching everything below. It's cawing echoed throughout the clearing like laughter.
Ithron ended the visions, withdrawing his mind back into his own body. He slumped forward soundlessly, Tunnas supporting his frame as he was led to the ground. Taxed from his exertions, Ithron turned onto his back, gaunt face now visible in the moonlight. "It is done," he rasped. "Arwen has seen what I have seen."
Ignoring the whimpers elicited from the old man, Tunnas cradled his master against him. "What do we do now?"
"Nothing. Everything is up to her."
The implication of her sunk in as Tunnas turned from Ithron. She was their only hope.
Arwen trembled against Glorfindel's strong frame as he whispered to her softly in Elvish, trying to mask the fear in his own voice. "Arwen, what is wrong? Please tell me what is wrong."
She shook violently, looking up at him with her tear-stained face. "Dead… He's dead."
"Who is dead? Arwen-" Glorfindel's voice caught in his throat as she grabbed his cloak with her hands, burrowing herself further into his embrace as she broke down into another series of heart-wrenching sobs.
The vision repeated over and over again inside her head, screaming the finality of what she had seen.
A black crow surveyed the scene playing out below, it's mocking laughter filling every inch of the clearing as everything was engulfed in darkness.
Very short I know, but I HAD to set up the rest of the story, now didn't I? Reviews are always appreciated, as is any form of clothes, jewelry, or currency.