A/N It's been forever since I wrote on this story, and I'm really sorry. I was trying to read the Silmarillion before I got there, but I just don't have time. Oh well. Thank you all my reviewers:

Christina::: I understand that the idea I'm working on is completely NOT Tolkien, but it's not supposed to be. It gets explained much better in some of my other stories than it has been here. While you don't have to read the others, I will warn you that I live by the theory of the interconnectedness of the universe; meaning all (or most) of my stories are interconnected and build off of each other in some way. Not in any huge way that keeps you from understanding the story, but they are all the same. And I wasn't discouraged from writing, just side tracked

CrystalCave::: Complex, yes; scary, I hope not!

CaptainCrash::: Thank you! I never thought of trying that. (P.S. Alaska's not that great, but what's it like in the UK? I always wanted to go)

Now on with the story! Yeah, it's just a revision of the first chappie for now. Not enough for its own I don't think.

A/N I own the concept of angels, and Angel, but not Kinboshi, my friend owns her. Tolkien and his surviving family own LotR. R&R.

You'll Always be My Angel

In this world there are two forces. These are the ones who embody the past, the good and the evil. These beings are known as angels, and they live among us. The ones that embody the evil of our past are often called demons, thought there is no difference. When two angels meat at a point in time where there is a monumental change for their culture, they must battle to determine the outcome. This was the work of some evil little kid who decided to play God, we're sure, but it might just be the authoress is a crazed lunatic who made the concept up at an unknown hour of the morning several years ago and never got around to writing it. Whatever.

Carnage was everywhere. The mighty battle against Sauron was finished, and Isildur had claimed the ring of power as his own. Amidst the remains was the body of the once powerful ruler, and slowly, as if only by some trick of the mind, a girl. She sat up, confused. Looking around her she saw the figure beside her move. The body of Sauron turned to her, menacing even in it's last moments.

"You'll...always be...my...angel," he whispered hoarsely, choking on his own blood as it gushed out of his mouth. The girl held his head up tenderly.

"My lord," she pleaded, "It was but your finger. You shall live."

"My ring," he said in way of explanation. He handed her a gold ring, inscribed as the One, only it read, 'one ring to find the one', and then he was gone. The girl stood, gripping the gift from her master and vanished into a wisp of dust.

Angel stood behind the bushes lining the road. A small battalion of orcs was waiting behind her in ambush. as Isildur and his marching party went by them she shouted the command, sending the orcs after the travelers. She herself became a bodiless soul, and followed Isildur, who had put on the Ring of Power and fled. She smiled coolly when he dived into the water and attempted to swim away. Using the powers of her own ring, endowed to her by her master, she called to the One, letting it slip off Isildur's finger and into the water. Some of the orcs spotted him and killed him instantly. Angel sighed satisfactorily. Her job, for now, was done.

All of Mirkwood waited with baited breath as their eyes were turned toward the castle. Long had this day been awaited and now that it was upon them none dared to scarcely speak. Within the castle walls, Lord Thranduil was ill at ease. His fair queen was with her midwives and none were allowed to enter the birthing chamber. Finally after some uncounted length of time, the wails of the newborn could be heard. A midwife entered the chamber where the king stood anxiously holding the babe. With quick grace, Thranduil was upon them, taking up his heir apparent from the woman. Looking down at the child in his he was instantly troubled by what he saw. Instead of the baby boy he had been all but assured of he beheld a raven haired girl with a birthmark like a ring on her small collar bone. The only evidence that she was even an elf was the curve of her face and the point of her tiny ears. The lady who had brought the child quickly retook it from her king and curtseying respectfully, she began to leave. As she neared the door she turned.

"What shall I inform them, sire?" she asked respectfully. Thranduil did not turn to face her. Moving to his window he leaned heavily on the sill of it.

"Inform them of the birth of my daughter," he said finally, "Lintéa." The midwife curtseyed again, though he could not see, and left.

Lintéa grew quickly, as do all children. Her raven hair had quickly fallen out and been replaced by the near white of her people, and the strange birthmark had also faded leaving her skin pure and unmarred. She was a beautiful child and all who saw her were in awe, but she was also a willful one. None could refute her whims lest her wrath be as great as her fathers, if not worse. However time passed and soon another baby was on its way

A/N Ooo! Crappy cliffhanger! SO, um, read and review. Sorry it took so long just to get this, but I have been having a lot of trouble with writer's block and then getting new story ideas. I'll try to update all my lovely stories for you all, but no real promises.