NOTE TO READER: PLEASE READ--This is a story that a friend and I did for a project in school. We could pick any subject as the basis of the subject, and we choose to write a story. But not just any story—a Lord of the Rings based story that takes place many years after the end of The Return of the King. It has only references to characters from the original stories, besides the usage of Eldarion. We are publishing it to see what the general audience thinks of our work because we can't truly publish it. Reviews are appreciated greatly, but please remember, they are part of our project as well and will be read by teachers, so refrain from using 'chat speak' or crude language. Thank you very much. The writing gets better as we get older—it was started three years ago. It is done, so more chapters will rapidly be published.
Disclaimer—Middle Earth and everything besides our own characters and plot are owned by JRR Tolkein, we are not doing this for any profit.
Andúin rushed out onto the courtyard of Minas Tirith. She ran to the point and looked out over Gondor. The sun was just rising, glinting off of her auburn hair, and she could barely make out Osgiliath or the mountain range marking the borders of Mordor. But she had not come to see the sunrise. She was watching for the delegates from the South, her vibrant green eyes squinting at the morning sun. She knew very little of the lands south of Gondor, and was anxious to meet them.
But she still couldn't spot them. She had been checking every ten minutes since she could see. She walked back inside the castle. She ran into one of the servants.
"Lady Andúin," she said, "The delegates probably won't be arriving until noon."
"I know, but I just want to be ready to welcome them when they arrive."
She headed for the stairs leading to the watch tower. It was her favorite place in the castle. She climbed the high stairs to the top of the tower. She walked over to the window and looked toward Osgiliath. The sun was higher in the sky, and she could easily make out the towers and the river. She turned to the south. She could see horses coming along the Hared Road.
She rushed back down the stairs and saw her father standing near the bottom. "Father!" I can see the delegates! They're here!" she yelled. They walked together into the Great Hall, and he took his place on the throne.
"You've been awaiting this," he said to Andúin. "Are you not going to greet them, Merilwen?" Andúin smiled at the use of this name, though she didn't know the meaning, but he had called her that as long as she could remember.
Andúin rushed from his hall and to the stable. She took Alata from his stall, and raced down the seven levels of Minas Tirith toward the gate.
'My eyes are gray today. The dark clouds are hovering over making the forest misty. I pull me cape closer to my shivering body. My mother is pushing me. I need to get out of here….she wants me to marry a man from Rivendell. I'm young, I need adventure. She's holding me back. It's practically impossible to do anything that pleases her. She's always worried for me, and I resent her for that. I know I shouldn't but I cannot help it. It might be a smart match Teleríus and I…it seems everyone is my elder guiding me…teaching me…and sometimes, living my life for me.'
Just then Jnían heard faint cries echoing behind her. She leaped form her perch on a low limb to her first love, Amáteria, her white mare. Jnían kissed Amáteria behind the ears, and began to ride toward the strange sound. Branches caught her hair as she pushed through some heavy brush.
She watched in cover as friends and neighbors marched past solemnly faced toward the ground. Jnían cautiously led Amáteria the crowd. Some were weeping, and some were silent. She dismounted and walked slowly closer, pushing her long blond hair back from her eyes..
"What is it?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"Look for yourself," he said, pointing. Jnían froze and stared blankly at a blue face. The figure's once beautiful hair fell loose and stringy.
"No!" Jnían shouted, tears burning down her cheeks. She shoved pass the people, stumbling. "No…" she repeated. She stopped inches from Awiié, her best and only friend. She could sense her eyes turning dark. The lifeless body before her remained still.
"Who did this!" she demanded. "Tell me!" One of the present mourners, Laiquenius, stepped forward.
"We found her like this," he said, holding back his grief, "We don't know what happened. Apparently she had been walking toward Edoras and she never returned. Two boys found her not far from the borders of Lórien, dead. We don't know how or why."
With tears in a steady flow, Jnían walked toward Amáteria. She rode to her and Awiié's favorite place. It was a cliff overlooking Rohan. It you squinted just right, you could see the watchtower of Minas Tirith. Jnían let out a shrill whistle that echoed over the hills. Aátrius landed on her shoulder from behind. He rubbed on her check clearing away of the salty bitterness of the tragedy.
"I feel avenge you, Awiié …in this life or the next."
Andúin arrived at the city gates just as they opened up to allow the delegates to enter. She stared in awe as four riders entered.
They rode tall horses, twice the size of Alata. Their heavy footfalls echoed through the stone city. The riders were robed and cloaked, and you could only see their mouth. Their skin was dark and tanned. They wore dark colors, black, greens, blues, and reds. They had high boots coming up to their knees.
Andúin really wasn't sure if she still wanted to meet these strangers. But it was her duty. She slid off Alata and strode over to the delegates. "Welcome," she said, extending her hand in greeting. "We've been expecting you."
Several minutes later, the riders followed Andúin into the Great Hall. The man leading the group approached the king. He made a quick bow then threw off his hood. His brown hair fell loosely to his shoulders. "We bring news from Haradwaith, Lord Eldarion," he said in a hoarse, rough voice. "Your lands are in danger."
"Danger?" Eldarion repeated. "What do you speak of?"
"A shadow grows in the south. It is still far from the borders of Gondor, but it is swiftly moving. It started on open lands. One of my riders caught sight of it. It is growing with each passing sunrise. It moves in this direction. You have just enough time to prepare yourselves for this new enemy."
A silence filled the hall. "It may not reach here. Suppose it is defeated before it reaches Gondor…" Eldarion's voice cut through the silence.
But the rider cut him off. "It is swiftly defeating every settlement that has been in its path. My men describe it as an invisible enemy, only a black fog that engulfs the town and leaves the town in wreckage. No one ever survives being in the black cloud."
"No one ever survives?" Eldarion asked.
"No one. But the news gets worse."
Eldarion massaged his temples. "Worse," he whispered.
The rider began to again speak. "The enemy seems to move in only one direction, nor veer of its course. And yet settlements have been destroyed in no pattern we can find. We fear there may be more then one. Harethgûl, tell him what you told me."
A different rider moved up beside the first. When they threw back their hood, it revealed a woman. She bowed, then rose and began to speak. Her voice was much more pleasant to listen to.
"We heard news from the southeast of a foe described much as this one; a black smoke hovering covering and destroying villages. Bit it disappeared before any more could be learned about it.
"It was defeated?" Eldarion asked eagerly.
"No, it only disappeared. No one knows why or how."
Eldarion looked at them. "We need to do something, as you said. Let us find somewhere more private to talk." They exited the room, but as the lead rider when through the doorway, Andúin noticed him make a small gesture to one of his men. The man acknowledged it, and motioned silently for the others to follow him to the doorway, His hand went to his sword hilt.
Andúin immediately knew what was about to happen. She ran outside and whistled. Alata immediately came to her. She climbed onto his back and drew the sword hanging from his side. They rushed into the Great Hall, his hoof beats ringing like continuous thunder. The riders turned, and had only a moment before they fell to the ground as Alata ran through them. One of them jumped up, sword drawn. It clashed with Andúin's. They dueled, but with Alata as her advantage, her foe was quickly defeated. As he fell to the ground she was faced with the other. His skill was considerably better, but she spun Alata around and into him, knocking him off balance. But as he fell, he grabbed Andúin's ankle, pulling her from Alata's back. She stood up, and was confronted by Harethgûl.
She pulled out her own sword. "I'm glad to see a woman comfortable with a blade," she said. "It's a rare sight."
"Well, you can see it now!" Andúin yelled, and lunged at Harethgûl. Their swords clashed loudly.
"Meet Silme," Harethgûl said, speaking about her sword. "It will be the last thing you ever see." She spun and tried to attack Andúin's neck, but was blocked. Their swords echoed and clashed as they moved around the Great Hall. Suddenly, Harethgûl got past Andúin's defenses and sliced her upper arm. Andúin cried out in pain, and for a moment, Harethgûl was distracted. Andúin, still yelling, slammed the side of her sword against Harethgûl's knee, breaking it. She fell to the ground, screaming in pain.
"Silme shall be the last sight you ever see," Andúin said, and she slain her enemy with their own sword. Andúin looked down at her own sword, and noticed the old blade was now broken, and the shards lay scattered on the floor. It had broken on the impact with Harethgûl's knee. She kept Silme, and rushed into the room where her father was with his assassin.
But her father had already slain his enemy, and his body lay unmoving on the floor. "Andúin," Eldarion said. "My daughter, are you alright?" He looked at the bloodied sword in her hand.
"I'm fine, father," she said, "Do not fret over me. What do you make of these traitors?"
"I know not yet what to think. I shall speak to my court. I want you not to dwell upon the subject. It does not concern you," he said.
"If I were you son you would have let me be a part of this," she said.
"Merilwen," her father said. "We've been over this so many times. Though I would have liked a son before you mother parted to take my place, I would trade you for nothing. You are the beautiful blossom of Gondor, Gondor's flower, and I wish to harm to come to you. Just please stay out of this." He left the room.
But Andúin had other thoughts. She needed her father to deep down really appreciate her as much as he would a son. She needed to prove she was the same. She went to the archives to see if she could find anything helpful.
She pored over documents for hours. But finally she found what she had been seeking. She needed a sword, and a good one, and she had found it.
Elo! Andúril; Luch en Annûn. I chathol asuenen, Ad echannen!
Behold! Andúril; Flame of the West. The blade that was broken has now been remade!
North, south, east, or west. Where would she start? Jnían had no idea whatsoever…it had been two days since Awiié's death and still she silently contemplated which way her destiny was pulling her, waiting for her…
"What do you think, Aátrius, how about west?" Aátrius hopped form her shoulder to the ground. She moved her claws in the dirt. She wanted to go south it seemed. Jnían trusted her friend, and because she didn't have any more compatible ideas, she decided she would begin her journey after her mother's party. She suppose she should change, she's been wearing this gown and cape for three moths. She too was extremely hungry…she hadn't left the cliff since she had gotten there two days earlier.
Jnían mounted Amáteria and rode back home. Once she arrived she took a nap. When she awoke she wandered out into the grassy corridor. She was floating around until something caught her attention. Andúril, her sister sword. Jnían drew out Ranafëa and laid it beside Andúril. They looked complete together like they were made for each other. Andúril was hidden here years ago to keep it away from thieves and member of the council who wanted all its control as with Jnían's. They were created at the same time.
Ranafëa's original keeper was Ciŕdan, Lord Elf of the Faramirth and founder of the Grey Havens. Jnían is the most recent of Ciŕdan's generation. Andúril's keeper was the great grandfather of Aragorn. She wondered why Andúril was kept from its destiny…to be in the hands of its righteous keeper, the descendant of Aragorn…whoever that might be. It's been a kept a secret for the last fifty years. It was Jnían's responsibility to guard Andúril. Hopefully it will be safe while she's gone.
She placed Mallius, a decoy, in its place while the true Andúril would be only where Jnían and Awiié would be able to find it. She needed to get it there before twilight, when she would be expected for her mother's party in Rivendell. She had no doubt that Teleríus would be there. He's quite charming, but she couldn't stand him at all. He's full of himself. Jnían couldn't tale it when he tried to bait her with the snobbery. He's rude, conceited, and definitely not for her.
She met Amáteria at the end of the stairs. They traveled an hour to Rohan. She stopped at the Pebble Inn. She led Amáteria into the stables and crept to the thirds past from the end, then knocked on it. It was hollow. She slid it to the left and removed a gold necklace. One the end of the necklace was a map of Rohan. She followed the map until she reached the diamond. It was a small wooden shed.
Jnían opened the creaking door, and silently entered. "Who is it?" a raspy voice asked.
"Jnían…Meshía, Awiié's dead," she said.
"I know, I heard the travelers speaking about it yesterday in the inn. It seems she dies south of here," Meshía explained.
"That's where I'm headed in a few days, to find out what happened to her…but before I go, I need to make sure this stays safe."
"Precede my child," she said.
"The shed's door swung open releasing sunlight into the dim room. Before them stood a big man picking the last scraps of meat off a bone. He was short and very stocky. He stunk of old wine and hogs.
"What is an Elf doing here?" he grumbled. He stepped inside further. "Get out!" he shouted. Jnían unsheathed Ranafëa, and held her faithful sword to his nose.
"I suggest you step out kind sir, or I; give you another mouth to eat out of," Jnían threatened. The am slowly backed out, swallowing hard."
"Go ahead Jnían, quickly," Meshía said. Jnían made her way through the trap door in the floor to the secret underground chamber Jnían placed the shrouded weapon into a cedar chest, locked it, and put the key on the same necklace as the golden map. She exited the shed, thanking Meshía.
She made to Rivendell just in time for the party. She stepped into the door, and already wished to leave. Teleríus pulled her out to the terrace overlooking the waterfall. He proposed. She wasn't surprised and told him no. He got mad and stalked out. She peered inside to watch him walk away, and saw someone in the corner of the room. He was wearing a hooded cape. He looked up, and she could feel her eyes turn yellow.
Andúin threw her saddlebag over Alata's back. She was going to leave as soon as the sun set. She had found all the information she needed. The blade's resting place was in LothLórien, being kept by the Elves. She had never seen an Elf before, but she figured they would be just as easy to sneak past as men.
But Andúin was still nervous about her journey. She walked to her grandfather's grave. Aragorn's body lay entombed with the two hobbits Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took on either side of him. She whispered a soft lament, bowed her head, and then left. She thought this always brought her good luck on her journeys, and anyway, it was his sword she planned to get.
The sun hung low on the horizon. She climbed onto Alata and pulled the hood over her gave. They left the city, fooling the Gatekeeper into thinking she was a traveler, nothing more.
Andúin didn't relax until she could no longer see Minas Tirith. She eased Alata into a canter, and then pulled out a map she had taken from the archives. She had never been outside of Gondor, and as she stopped Alata on the crest of a hill overlooking the vast lands of Rohan, she thought o herself, 'This is going to be an adventure.' Little did she know how correct she was.