'I am counting on you...' That same phrase ran in his head for the past eight weeks. Boromir rode straight and proud on his horse, his face a simple tired frown. His escort would not notice his pain, his anger and frustration. They would not notice it now, and if they did, would they care?
His own father had no ear for the troubles of his children.
"My lord, might we stop before we get to Rivendell?"
Boromir turned on his horse to look at the young, weedy knight. He watched as he chewed on his fingernails, one by one. "What is your name lad?"
He watched with as the boy stopped mauling his fingers to sit straight in his saddle, a large grin spreading across his face. "Harlan, my lord."
Boromir turned his horse around to watch his drowsy company and turned back to the boy. "Harlan then, let everyone know we stop here for the night."
The men around the campfire talked amongst themselves and Boromir sat there stirring through his past, trying to find a meaning. His entire life, he had done what his father asked of him. What his father wanted. What would be best for Gondor. What anybody else wanted. He felt like a feather blowing in the wind, being guided back and forth, higher in the air, or sweeping across the ground at the wind's whim. Boromir did not know what he sought, but it was something more than what his life was made of. He did not know where to look, where to pick at. So he sat there, muddled in his thoughts, before he was awakened from his daze to the sound of silence.
He turned to see one of the older men telling a story as everyone sat listening attentively.
"Seven years ago, to this night in a land far far away, an entire city was wiped out. They say the daughter of their king Mellad was a sorceress. She practiced spells and evil wizardry. She was the cause of the city's destruction. They say she was furious with her mother who was one of the valor. Half human half goddess she was. What caused the mating of two completely opposite races, no one knows. To try and bring back her mother, out of desperation I was told, she ordered hundreds of goblins to try and take over the castle where the goddess would then come and save everyone." He looked around and was pleasantly surprised to see his captain looking at him listening intently.
"And then?" Harlan prompted.
The man cleared his throat, "Yes yes, of course. When her mother failed to come, she went back into the palace and out of anger murdered her father. Done with him, she returned outside after the goblins had all but burnt down the entire town. Directing her anger from her mother to the monster's she killed every single one, when more than three hundred men could not! All by herself! A goblin shot an arrow at the prince before the princess killed him as well. She came back from killing all the creatures to see that the arrow had killed her brother. I was told she did not shed a single tear. It is quite obvious the devious witch planned everything herself! With her brother and father dead, who was there for the throne? Besides the goblins had killed nearly everyone. One young man whose entire family was murdered by the onslaught came to Middle Earth to tell this horrid tale. Everyone who survived the attack, and I am speaking of seven or eight people, starved and froze to death from lack of resources. The city is a pile of ruins. Nothing remains." He finished his story only to the sound of the crackling fire, everyone staring in wonder at the storyteller.
It was silent for quite some time before, predictably, Harlan spoke up quietly, "Who and where is this Princess?"
"Princess Sephora, Chief Magistrate and Lady of the house of Mantis. No one knows, she walked out of the home in which Prince Elid spent his last minutes and disappeared. No one has ever seen her again. No one knows if she still lives at all. If she were alive, she would be no more than twenty- four. Be weary tonight men. They say her spirit wanders." He looked around the men and held a joy in his heart only a storyteller could know. "Goodnight men." With that, he moved in his spot to lie down and sleep.
Without a sound, the gathered men dispersed to sleep, each of them thinking of this horrid story.
It was true; only two people survived the horrid battle. Princess Sephora and the night named Salamin.
But none of them knew that the interpretations of these facts were purely made up in the fright of battle. That the Princess had stripped herself of the title believing herself unworthy to be related to the two men she failed. The Princess Sephora of that night died. She was no more.
Sephora could no longer relate herself to the human species. Since her departure from Mantis, she had journeyed to Valinor. There, Sephora was taught by relatives how to use her power. She was stronger now. She punished herself each day with the training because of the disastrous day she failed her city. Her people. Her brother. Her father. Herself.
She was told she had become the strongest creature from outside of Valinor, beyond any wizard of the White Order. She was a seer, gifted with the skills of her mother. But they were nothing to her in Valinor. She had learned these skills to take them back for the goblins. To clear the entire world of their disgusting presence. Her heart had grown empty with hate.
Ironically, goblins had become her life. Her obsession for their destruction.
Her land of Mellas was overtaken completely by orcs, goblins, trolls...monsters of every kind. She could no longer stay in Valinor. Her spirit was dead. She had to find something else. Meaning. Middle Earth, she was told, was the only place allotted to her. So Sephora set out for the Golden Wood, Lothlorien.
Leaving the place she had called home for the past six years, Sephora sailed on a ship no one save for her uncle on Valinor knew about. Coming on to the shores of Middle Earth, Sephora took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings. This was much more elegant than the shores of Mellas.
It would be only hours before Sephora had completely rested and set off on foot across the vast fields, days before she would reach Lothlorien and months before she would join an infamous band of males.
And this, my friends, is where the story begins.