So I know everyone hates Mary Sue stories but I can't help it I just love writing them anyway ;) ..After endlessly tweaking my LOTR one, I had a bug to make one for the Silmarillion, but this time I decided to make a plain o' mortal (and as usual letting my imagination go nuts and as over the top as I fancied :P )... As Tuor's is probably my personal favorite story in that anthology I decided to insert her there (though I do have her promptly veer off from it). And being a fan of using sister characters, I decided to do it by giving him one. As usual I took some artistic license, especially toward the end, because I wanted to give her something important to do... So here goes nothin again ( assuming anyone but myself is interested in reading it )... :D
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The Messenger
The Adventures of Mírian Anufiniel
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Prologue
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A flurry of delicate little snowflakes began to drift down from the overcast sky of a late winter afternoon. Two figures cloaked in gray were weaving through the woodlands in the hills above their great lake, happy to pass the halfway point of their roving watch and head back to pass off their duties to the next guards, for winter had been quite cold that year, even for the elves.
Suddenly one halted. "Did you hear something?" he asked quietly.
The other had indeed heard something, and paused to listen. "Probably just a marmot," he replied. "They begin to stir this time of year."
They turned back onto their path and resumed their march toward home. But just then they heard more - crackling branches and leaves not far behind them. Footsteps in the woods. Not those of an elf from the sound of them. They whipped around, searching the maze of trees behind them, arrows already pulled to their bows.
"Look, Galathin!" said the first. "Someone is there."
"Careful now, Telasor," replied his companion in a whisper.
They saw back down the way they had come a curious figure in a deep blue cloak. They walked back toward it, and silently approached with their soft elven steps, bow strings held taught. But the figure kept lumbering on, taking no notice or heed, very slowly, when suddenly it collapsed into a heap on the ground. Telasor loosened his string and tucked away his arrow, but Galathin held on, taking no chances. At last they reached the stranger, and pulling back the hood to inspect the two comrades saw to their surprise a maiden of gray eyes and rich brown hair. She stirred, looking up at them, but she seemed exhausted and out of wits, saying no words. She was fair enough to blend in with their people, the woodland elves, but they held her gaze and perceived clearly that before them was a mortal.
Now Galathin calmed and put away his weapon. They gave her what water and food they had, and were able to stand her up, discovering then to their even greater surprise that she was also heavy with child. And so, in wonder and concern each took an arm and led her back to their caves and straight to their leader, Annael. He bid his guards to set her down in a comfortable place, and to send for his kinswoman Lothaelin.
There the lady rested, not yet recovered her full wits to speak, and suddenly wrenched forward in pain, clutching at her belly. Lothaelin went to fetch what ladies were available to help her, which were few in the northern lands in those days. But together they all labored to help the stranger bring her child into the world. These labors lasted deep into the night, and the elves were in distress and wonder, for elf women did not know such hardship in childbearing. But at last they heard the cries of a babe ring out through the halls of the cave.
"Your son, lady," Lothaelin said to her happily.
The lady received the child, and declared his name Tuor which his father had chosen for him. But as she held and fed the child, Lothaelin's mother Gilduriel who was helping looked up at them and said, "I think she is not finished, my friends."
They all looked over at her confused, then the patient began to wrench and scream again. And soon enough Gilduriel indeed brought forth another babe.
"A daughter you now have also!" she said, and set the child in her other arm. The lady looked down at the second astonished, at a loss for a name.
"They will both be tall and fair I foretell," said Lothaelin. "With bright hair and eyes that shine like jewels in the sun."
"A wondrous gift from Eru himself!" said Annael softly.
The lady smiled amazed at the unexpected newcomer. At last she chose a name: "Mírian," she said.
"The Gift Jewel," Lothaelin said. "A fitting name indeed."
The lady at last gave her own name: Rían, daughter of Belegund. And she remained there for a short while as she recovered and tended her new children, and they did not yet ask any further questions. But very soon her grief grew to erode her joy, for her mind became occupied with thoughts of her lost husband. At last she had recovered enough to tell them that she was in search of her lord Huor, son of Galdor, for he had not returned home though the battle was long rumored to be over. And she begged Annael to look after the children, so that she might go and continue to seek for their father. "For they both will be important threads in the fates of the world, I deem, and will need your help and guardianship," she said.
"Indeed I remember Huor the fearless," said Annael. "But I can give no news to comfort you, Lady. For he is known to have fallen in that battle, and would have been buried with his comrades on the great hill of the slain back on the field."
The lady began to weep in despair, and readied to leave again. Annael readily agreed to care for the children, but still endeavored to give any argument he could to dissuade her from her quest. But she declared that her heart could not rest until she found her beloved husband, or some sign of him. At last seeing she would not be waylaid he supplied her well to make the journey, and he sent with her Galathin and Telasor, and his kinsman Cúdolin their stoutest and most farsighted archer, to guide and guard her. Cúdolin had not gone to that battle with Annael, agreeing to stay behind to help guard the remnant of his people in the caves.
Their journey took them far through the bitter nights, but she walked on unceasing, unheeding of peril from either enemy servants or the winter cold. But they reached the battlefield undisturbed, and it lay deadly quiet and abandoned, and there they found the great burial mound covered in the helmets of the fallen. They looked around for a while, until at last Cúdolin spotting something leapt lightly up the side of the gruesome hill. Fetching one helmet, he brought it to her, and there she saw her husband's name engraved on the sallet.
Rían stood there a long time holding it in silence. The elves wandered around the mound for a good while to let her grieve, reading the names and inspecting the other gear and remnants that remained. She no longer wept, and they held hope that she would at last be satisfied to return and take solace in her newborn children. But she sank to her knees, and she laid down and slept. Cúdolin waited for a while, thinking she was still but resting in her weariness after such a hard journey. Eventually he began to grow anxious to leave from that forsaken place and have more heed for safety. But when he at last came back around the mound and went to stir her, he discovered to his horror that she had grown still and cold, and he could not wake her, and he realized that her grief had weakened her too heavily and she indeed had already died.
"May she find him again," he said sadly, as he pulled her cloak to cover her, "in whatever place Eru sends the spirits of Men." But Cúdolin still would not tarry long, and had them swiftly build a cairn over her with the helmet in her arms. Then at last they left, and hurried with heavy hearts and all speed back to their lord in the hill caves over Lake Mithrim.