A/N: Hey everyone. This is my first real attempt at a LOTR story and I am afraid to say that it is probably not quite what anyone will expect. I am not really sure if you will enjoy it or not. As I am new to this any hints or help that can be given would be greatly appreciated from the bottom of my heart! Plus anyone who is good with grammatical mistakes would be a lifesaver as grammar is really not my strongest point. I wish I had a Beta, but anyways I have only just started so forgive any errors. I hope that this is enjoyable and it is quite a misleading start to my story.

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Prologue

The wind blew outside the town pushing bits of dirt through the streets. It was a dark night with no light to relieve it except within the dwellings of those who lived there. The greatest light came from a large inn with a much tarnished sign that barely stayed hanging from its post. There was a faded painting of a horse that shone white, but also golden as if it was two different horses in one body. It had its head held high hair streaming back like a pennant in the breeze. There seemed to be a look of absolute joy upon its face and underneath this horse there were faded and cracked words. It read: The Prancing Pony. The doors to this inn were all shut tightly against the night. Inside many people were all huddled around the fireplace in a semi circle. They were all looking up at one who sat closest to the fire with their back to it facing them. This was a scene that could be found on many a dark night and gave comfort t all who observed it. Children were those closest to the seated figure that moved so the light was better able to play upon her features marking them out. It was a woman who looked old before her time. She was covered in blankets to hold in the warmth of the fire, but she still shivered ever so slightly that it was barely perceptible. She had long brown hair that was dull and lifeless as if it had given too much of itself. Her frame was small and shrivelled within the blankets. She looked out at her audience with her piercing eyes of hazel that still shone with the faint light of life. Whilst her body seemed to have given up her mind and spirit were still as powerful as ever.

The woman sat by the fire huddling in the blankets that surrounded her. The heat of the flames could not penetrate the chill within her very being. It was the same chill that had afflicted her many years ago. A chill that reached the spirit, but she had been protected from it then. Now it came back to her when the protections that had helped her were long gone and there were none that could help her still in Middle Earth. At least none that she could reach soon enough. She was not old at least in her own eyes, but she was worn with cares and duties. The thread of her life was a tangled web that she could not see the end of, but knew it would not last forever. The years had left their mark on her with the lines of age on her face and the sprinkling of white hairs that were starting to grow amongst the brown. She smiled to herself and looked her age for a time and those who looked upon her were amazed at the wisdom that seemed to shine out from her very bones, but soon enough the sorrows of her existence once more weighed her down and she hunched unable to bear the weight. She looked at the children that sat at her feet waiting for her to tell them another story of the previous ages and their mysteries. They were not the only ones; her husband sat at her side a frown marring his features. He was not the most handsome of men, but he was a good honest man. His hair was blond and reminded her of another whom she had loved with all her heart, but always from afar. He had been too far above her. She had served him faithfully and received her reward. Her husband also had blue eyes and a smile that lit up his entire face and stunned her. However, he could not measure up to that other a mere lamp beside the sun. The looks of that other shone in her memory, but none here would have ever seen one of his like before. For all that her husband held her heart firmly within his grasp.

The looks of expectation amongst her watchers almost made her laugh. A breeze blew through the room and she knew that this would be her last story. She would not be able to pull together the strength to tell another. A small child piped up,

"Miss will you not tell us a tale of the past. One with elves in." She laughed softly at the boy and glanced to her husband,

"What do you think Geraint?" Her husband took her hand momentarily surprised at how cold it was.

"I think a tale about the elves would be fine indeed." She smiled at him her hand trembling in his grasp as she cast her mind back. It was time to tell them her last tale one that spanned many years and places. One that transpired far, far away in a place very unlike their own. A tale to end all tales. She gathered her thoughts and immersed herself in her memory to remember the details. Everything was still in that moment allowing her to think knowing the importance she placed on silence. The watchers almost seemed to hold their breath waiting for her to speak.

Finally she took a deep breath and cast her gaze on the villagers checking she had their attention.

"I have told many tales in my years here and you have all listened well. I hope that when I am gone you will continue to tell these tales and pass them on to the next generation and the one after that. If you do this then my time has been spent in an endeavour far worthier of attention than anything else. For the tales are our memories of the past and without a past how can we progress into the future?" She was silent a moment knowing the effect her next words would have on one person in particular who she cared about more than any other still in Middle Earth. "It is time for me to tell you my last tale." She heard Geraint stifle a gasp and his hand grasped hers more firmly. He spoke in a low whisper for her ears only.

"My love surely you do not mean that you must have many others you could tell. We still need to grow old together and have children." She shook her head at his words,

"I am sorry, but we both know that the time is far passed when we could have children and that is my one regret. I have nothing of myself to leave you, but my love. I may look to be in only my late thirties, but you knew when you married me my true age. You knew that this day would come. I can not stay with you forever." He bowed his head at her words and for a moment she wished that what she had to say was not true and that she could carry on at his side.

The moment passed and she knew that she must carry on and tell her tale, for the first time she felt that she had not enough time. She sat forward in her chair moving closer to her audience ready to pull them into the world of her memories and experiences.

"My tale starts many years ago before the journey of Nine fingered Frodo and his companions to Mount Doom to unmake the One Ring Sauron forged. It starts 10 years before Frodo ever knew of the danger he would be in. This tale however starts in a place far from here with so many differences it is hard to imagine. I will now report the story to the best of my knowledge, which is great." At this point she smiled mischievously once more surprising her audience, who saw her only as an invalid. The smile lifted away all of the age on her face and she seemed to be a small child so happy was she. She cast one more look at her husband memorising his features and the look of interest even on his face. She had never told him this story, but he knew more about it than any other there. He knew its significance, which was more important than the actual words. She began to speak. All was silence as her words wove a world around her listeners. A world that held them in thrall to the whims of the story where ever it may lead.

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A/N Well that was the start, but the next chapter might surprise some of you, well all of you really. Any thoughts on how to improve would be welcomed. I feel this chapter is a bit choppy. Anyways please review if you want I do take anonymous reviews.