AN: Okay, here's the next chapter! :D Aren't you all so happy? I really
hope you haven't abanndoned this story because yeah, there's lots of
chapters still on the way and it would really suck if no one reviewed them.
Thanx for all of your reviews! They mean a ton to me. :D Okay, On with the show, this is it! LOL
For the next two days she withdrew from her companions, not even Eomer could get more than a slight word from her. There was no singing and no tales around the fire at night, laughter seemed to have died with Naltariel's mood. It effected everyone in the company for their seemed no cheer left in the worlds at all.
But as they neared Edoras at the setting of the sun on the second day her mood rose. She smiled brightly as she looked upon the city upon the hill. Eomer had not lied, the rood of the Meduseld truly did look as though thatched with gold, but it's beauty was beyond what she had expected.
"You description truly did not give it justice, Eomer!" She cried with a laugh as she stilled her mare and gazed upon it's beauty.
Eomer looked over to her in surprise, after two days with barely a word her laughter did more good for his Men, than rain to fields after a drought. He rode to her side a smile upon his face.
"I am glad you approve!" He said happily. "But I fear I can ride no further than this. Marik will take you the rest of the way."
A loud neigh came from off to her right and she looked to find her own white mare trotting as fast as she could, with a slight limp, towards her. Vaiwa gave a loud neigh and started towards the other mare. It was Laurea, Vaiwa's own sister. Naltariel had raised them since they had been born to their mother Nenu, who had also been one of Naltariel's mounts before her death.
"Laurea!" She cried. "Inye harya recuene eressea oa ho contarlya!" (I have felt lonely away from your stride) The white mare shook it's mane happily as it came up to her side. Naltariel slid from the back of Vaiwa to inspect the injured ankle of Laurea. "Were we in Lorien, I would take you to Nimrodel to soak your feet and ease your pain."
"Naltariel! Come, they will not allow you into the city once it has become too dark." Marik called.
She nodded and leapt up onto Vaiwa's back again. They trotted towards the city at a slow enough pace for Laurea to keep up. They reached the gates some minutes later, Naltariel's golden hair shining in the light or the sentry torches.
"Who is this?" A sentry demanded, all formality and courtesy forgotten with the setting of the sun.
"I am Marik son of Marun." Marik called. "With me is Lady Naltariel, Princess of Lorien."
"A sorceress! A witch!" The sentry cried in alarm. "The Golden Wood is evil place. What spell has she got you under?"
"No spell, My Lord. I am fleeing the Golden Wood as you Men do." Naltariel called.
"And what might make you flee your home, witch?" A second sentry called.
"An arranged marriage. Now, are you going to let us in or are we going to stand here calling to each other all night?" She snapped.
The sentries were quiet for a moment then the gate opened. "You will meet with Theoden King as soon as your horses are stabled." One called arrogantly.
Marik shook his head angrily and led Naltariel into the city, Laurea followed without command. The streets were dark and what few people they did see on their way to the stable, hurried inside when they saw their arrival.
Marik handed his big brown stallion over to one of the stable boys and lifted Naltariel off the back of Vaiwa. Two more stable hands came out to bring in the elvish mares, they stared in surprise when there was no saddle or rein to remove.
"These are elvish mares. No saddle or rein is to be put upon them, nor are they to be attempted to be ridden." Naltariel ordered them quietly. "Laurea, the white one, has an injured leg. If you could give her something to ease the pain I would appreciate it."
Marik quietly led her away from the stables, anxiety written upon his face. "Theoden King has become corrupted by Saruman. I fear he may use you to work an alliance proposal to your people."
"Weak would my father be if he accepted." Naltariel murmured.
*
"My Lord." Naltariel said, curtsying before the King. He was old she noted from his appearance, old and confused. She did not like the look of the Man sitting at his side whispering words into his ear, there was something about him and his gaze that made her uneasy. He was the King's advisor, obviously from where he sat.
"Why does the witch of the Golden Wood send forth her kin to Edoras?" The King said slowly, a mere puppet of his advisor for her keen elvish ears had heard the counsellor speak the same question a moment before.
She pressed her gaze to the Kings. "Ask your own questions, My Lord." She spoke within his mind.
"That is what I wish to know." The King replied.
"My mother, not a witch, but the Queen of Elves, did not send me. I am fleeing from my fathers arranged marriage for me." Naltariel said tightly aloud, she despised it when people thought ill of her sweet mother.
The advisor looked upon her for a moment before turning back to lean and whisper words into the ear of the King. Naltariel gazed hard at the King. "Be of your own mind." She said within his head again.
The King stayed silent as she exerted her will upon him, trying to free him from the prison his advisor had locked him in. Suddenly the face before her eyes was not of Theoden King of the Mark, but of Saruman the White. She gasped, the will of the White Wizard too great for her. "Haryaro elye."(He possesses you) She whispered.
"You may stay here . . . for a while." The advisor said loudly, standing and walking down the stairs from the small platform the thrown was on. She turned her head away in disgust at the lustful look has bestowed upon her as though she had been slapped.
"Thank you, Theoden King of Rohan." She said spitefully and curtsied to the King, ignoring the advisor nearly beside her.
Marik offered to her his arm and escorted her out of the thrown room quickly, not liking the look the advisor had been giving her any more than she had. "Who is that Man?" She asked after they were away from Meduseld.
"The King's sole advisor, Grima Wormtongue." Marik answered harshly.
"Wormtongue is right! Wriggled himself into a very desirable spot, I must say." She muttered.
"So you see the corruption already?" He asked, leading her around to the back of the Golden Hall.
"See it? It's hard to miss! No advisor should dictate the speech of a King!" She hissed. "Where are we going?"
"Lady Eowyn's chambers are near the back of Meduseld, I am hoping we can get to her without another confrontation with the Worm." Marik said quickly, leading her to a door at the back. There was only one guard standing before it.
"Move aside." Marik ordered him. "We go to see Lady Eowyn, we are expected." He said, even though they were not. The guard nodded sleepily and let them pass.
Moments later they came to a door, Marik knocked softly on it. The shuffling sounds of feet could be heard to Naltariel's ears from the other side of the door. It opened seconds later, a woman with long pale blond hair hanging down her back and a cold expression on her face glared at them, a dagger lifted in her hand.
"Marik!" She cried, dropping the dagger and throwing herself into the Mans arms. "Where have you been? How fares Eomer?" She asked quickly, pulling him inside the room. It was then that she noticed Naltariel, she paused. "Hello."
"Hello. Eomer has told me much about you." Naltariel said politely, for it was true. She had eventually weaseled out information about his beloved sister during their training.
"You have spoken with Eomer?" She asked hesitantly.
"Lady Eowyn, this is Lady Naltariel of Lorien. Eomer has brought her to you in hopes that you would look after her until she decides to return to her home. She is fleeing from an arranged marriage." Marik explained.
Eowyn smiled. "Of course, come in." She gestured for the Elf to enter her chambers and both Naltariel and Marik were lead to a small table. They all sat. "How does Eomer fare?"
*
After several hours of Marik and Eowyn speaking in soft voices about the tidings of Eomer, Eowyn turned to Naltariel. "I note you carry a sword by your side, are you a sheildmaiden?"
Both Marik and Naltariel began to laugh remembering all the incidents from her training, indeed once she had almost taking off Marik's head. "Your brother was instructing me. I'm afraid my education was brought to swift end after some . . . accidents though."
"You nearly took off my head! Not to mention Eomer's arm!" Marik exclaimed.
"I didn't say I was very good at it." Naltariel said indignantly. "And besides, it's not like I was intentionally trying to harm you." She laughed, but it was cut short when she saw an eagle perched on the window sill of Eowyn's room.
She silently rose, going swiftly to the window. The bird have a little cry then jumped up onto her shoulder, perching lightly there, mindful of it's talons so they did not mar her skin. "Do you have papyrus and ink?" She asked Eowyn.
The other woman nodded and quickly returned with a sheet of white paper and an ink jar and quill. She set them upon the table and began to write in elvish:
Father;
I will not return to Lorien until I am sure your plans are not to wed me off to Lord Lathun and that you accept and condone mine and Haldir's love for one another. He now wears Estelara around his throat as a token of my love for him. This is where I plan on staying for a while, in Edoras. You can send another messenger of this sort to me when you have come to terms with this and are willing to accept what I have said.
Love Naltariel
PS. Tell Mother I love her and ask her to come out of her chambers if she hasn't already. She need not grieve me, I have come to no harm.
She rolled up the letter and tore three strands of hair from her head. She quickly braided them together, then tied the note to the eagles ankle with the braid. The eagle cried out then lifted itself into the air and flew from the room with great speed back towards Lorien.
"And that was?" Eowyn asked.
"A messenger of my father." Naltariel replied. "The night is old and morning is not far."
"Your right, I cannot believe I have been so rude! You have been travelling and your surely exhausted! Let me show you to your chambers." Eowyn cried, standing up from her chair. "Marik, are you at least going to stay the night in your dwelling or do you return to my brothers side?"
"I must return to your brother, my Lady. Perhaps we will see each other again soon." Marik answered, bowing to the ladies and wishing them both farewell then he slipped from the room and continued down the hall out of sight of the others.
Eowyn turned back to Naltariel and led her down the dark halls. "So tell me of this man you love." Eowyn said quietly. Naltariel looked at her in surprise, she had not mentioned Haldir anywhere during the course of the evening and neither had Marik. Eowyn laughed. "I know a small portion of elvish, you wrote "mine and Haldir's love" so come, tell me of him."
Naltariel laughed slightly. "Haldir is one of the three March Wardens of Lothlorien. He is noble and strong, though his temper can get away from his control easily. We grew up together as friends. Things changed after leaving Lorien for Rivendell I suppose, I stayed in Imladris for a hundred years and when I returned it was just different."
"A hundred years! What is your age now?" Eowyn asked in surprise.
"One thousand nine hundred ninety eight years." Naltariel said lightly, enjoying the shock of speaking her age before such mortals. "I am young compared to many, indeed, both my father and Lord Elrond were already several thousand years old when the Dark Lord rose the first time."
"It is incredible." Eowyn said. "You Elves can live for eternity, while we are but lucky to make it past seventy, and even that is with the help of a little of the Numenorean blood."
Naltariel gazed at Eowyn for a moment. "You mature faster than us. By seventy, people of my kind are barely out of the crib and walking. Small elflings are only seventy. They rejoice with grand celebrations as they reach one hundred. It is at their hundredth that they stop being an elfling and are then an elf, though a young one."
"Does time pass faster for you than it does for us? Does a year seem to you as long of a time as it is to us?" Eowyn asked gently.
"Time passes the same for all the living things upon Middle-Earth, we are merely left to endure it longer." Naltariel answered. "Your mortality is a gift, Lady Eowyn. Your people are able to pass into the White Halls without going through battle, murder, or suicide. There is no other way out for us."
"But still! Immortality is a gift as well! And a far better one in my eyes." Eowyn cried. "To live through the ages, remembering things that have passed into legend, to speak of them as though it had not happened more than ten years before. That is a gift. What knowledge you must have!"
"Yes, the gift of wisdom is upon my people, but also the curse of sorrow and loss. When you lose one you care about, Men have only a maximum of seventy years to wait before they can meet again. For the Elves it is a far different story, many do not ever meet again." Naltariel said sadly. "Grief follows us throughout the ages."
Eowyn stopped before a closed door, she opened it and gave a cry of alarm at the dark figure standing in the middle of the room. It turned and Naltariel could clearly make out the face of Grima Wormtongue, the Kings advisor.
"What are you doing in here?" Eowyn demanded.
"The question, Lady Eowyn, is what are you doing in here?" He replied smoothly. Eowyn faltered, unable to answer the question.
"Hotuli orya, elye saura ango!" (Come out of her, you foul snake) Naltariel said angrily, her eyes glittering. Eowyn suddenly blinked and looked around, her eyes falling angrily on Grima.
"Get out of here!" She snapped. "These are the chambers of Lady Naltariel, you have no business here!"
Wormtongue stared at her in shock, his spell over her was broken and now he feared the wrath of the fierce sheildmaiden. He nodded quickly and pushed past her out of the room, his shoulder brushing against Naltariel as he went. He cried out clutching his shoulder.
"What devilry is this?" He demanded, trying his words upon Naltariel.
"Your spell has no effect on my, Lord. And there is no devilry unless from you. You were burned by my touch, only those who are evil need to fear the touch of an Elf." Naltariel replied slowly her penetrating gaze staring down upon him.
He stepped back, staring at her in fear then fled down the dark halls out of their sight. Naltariel sighed and turned back to Eowyn. "Are you alright, Lady Eowyn?"
" . . . yes . . . I don't know what happened though. All of a sudden I heard this voice within my head telling me to leave." She said slowly, sitting down on one of the chairs within the room.
"It was as I expected. His words are poison." Naltariel said quietly as she stepped into the room. "Be careful not to listen to him too long."
Yay, updates should be on the way, just so long as you tell me to get my butt in gear. :D I FINALLY got over my writers block. :D
Thanx for all of your reviews! They mean a ton to me. :D Okay, On with the show, this is it! LOL
For the next two days she withdrew from her companions, not even Eomer could get more than a slight word from her. There was no singing and no tales around the fire at night, laughter seemed to have died with Naltariel's mood. It effected everyone in the company for their seemed no cheer left in the worlds at all.
But as they neared Edoras at the setting of the sun on the second day her mood rose. She smiled brightly as she looked upon the city upon the hill. Eomer had not lied, the rood of the Meduseld truly did look as though thatched with gold, but it's beauty was beyond what she had expected.
"You description truly did not give it justice, Eomer!" She cried with a laugh as she stilled her mare and gazed upon it's beauty.
Eomer looked over to her in surprise, after two days with barely a word her laughter did more good for his Men, than rain to fields after a drought. He rode to her side a smile upon his face.
"I am glad you approve!" He said happily. "But I fear I can ride no further than this. Marik will take you the rest of the way."
A loud neigh came from off to her right and she looked to find her own white mare trotting as fast as she could, with a slight limp, towards her. Vaiwa gave a loud neigh and started towards the other mare. It was Laurea, Vaiwa's own sister. Naltariel had raised them since they had been born to their mother Nenu, who had also been one of Naltariel's mounts before her death.
"Laurea!" She cried. "Inye harya recuene eressea oa ho contarlya!" (I have felt lonely away from your stride) The white mare shook it's mane happily as it came up to her side. Naltariel slid from the back of Vaiwa to inspect the injured ankle of Laurea. "Were we in Lorien, I would take you to Nimrodel to soak your feet and ease your pain."
"Naltariel! Come, they will not allow you into the city once it has become too dark." Marik called.
She nodded and leapt up onto Vaiwa's back again. They trotted towards the city at a slow enough pace for Laurea to keep up. They reached the gates some minutes later, Naltariel's golden hair shining in the light or the sentry torches.
"Who is this?" A sentry demanded, all formality and courtesy forgotten with the setting of the sun.
"I am Marik son of Marun." Marik called. "With me is Lady Naltariel, Princess of Lorien."
"A sorceress! A witch!" The sentry cried in alarm. "The Golden Wood is evil place. What spell has she got you under?"
"No spell, My Lord. I am fleeing the Golden Wood as you Men do." Naltariel called.
"And what might make you flee your home, witch?" A second sentry called.
"An arranged marriage. Now, are you going to let us in or are we going to stand here calling to each other all night?" She snapped.
The sentries were quiet for a moment then the gate opened. "You will meet with Theoden King as soon as your horses are stabled." One called arrogantly.
Marik shook his head angrily and led Naltariel into the city, Laurea followed without command. The streets were dark and what few people they did see on their way to the stable, hurried inside when they saw their arrival.
Marik handed his big brown stallion over to one of the stable boys and lifted Naltariel off the back of Vaiwa. Two more stable hands came out to bring in the elvish mares, they stared in surprise when there was no saddle or rein to remove.
"These are elvish mares. No saddle or rein is to be put upon them, nor are they to be attempted to be ridden." Naltariel ordered them quietly. "Laurea, the white one, has an injured leg. If you could give her something to ease the pain I would appreciate it."
Marik quietly led her away from the stables, anxiety written upon his face. "Theoden King has become corrupted by Saruman. I fear he may use you to work an alliance proposal to your people."
"Weak would my father be if he accepted." Naltariel murmured.
*
"My Lord." Naltariel said, curtsying before the King. He was old she noted from his appearance, old and confused. She did not like the look of the Man sitting at his side whispering words into his ear, there was something about him and his gaze that made her uneasy. He was the King's advisor, obviously from where he sat.
"Why does the witch of the Golden Wood send forth her kin to Edoras?" The King said slowly, a mere puppet of his advisor for her keen elvish ears had heard the counsellor speak the same question a moment before.
She pressed her gaze to the Kings. "Ask your own questions, My Lord." She spoke within his mind.
"That is what I wish to know." The King replied.
"My mother, not a witch, but the Queen of Elves, did not send me. I am fleeing from my fathers arranged marriage for me." Naltariel said tightly aloud, she despised it when people thought ill of her sweet mother.
The advisor looked upon her for a moment before turning back to lean and whisper words into the ear of the King. Naltariel gazed hard at the King. "Be of your own mind." She said within his head again.
The King stayed silent as she exerted her will upon him, trying to free him from the prison his advisor had locked him in. Suddenly the face before her eyes was not of Theoden King of the Mark, but of Saruman the White. She gasped, the will of the White Wizard too great for her. "Haryaro elye."(He possesses you) She whispered.
"You may stay here . . . for a while." The advisor said loudly, standing and walking down the stairs from the small platform the thrown was on. She turned her head away in disgust at the lustful look has bestowed upon her as though she had been slapped.
"Thank you, Theoden King of Rohan." She said spitefully and curtsied to the King, ignoring the advisor nearly beside her.
Marik offered to her his arm and escorted her out of the thrown room quickly, not liking the look the advisor had been giving her any more than she had. "Who is that Man?" She asked after they were away from Meduseld.
"The King's sole advisor, Grima Wormtongue." Marik answered harshly.
"Wormtongue is right! Wriggled himself into a very desirable spot, I must say." She muttered.
"So you see the corruption already?" He asked, leading her around to the back of the Golden Hall.
"See it? It's hard to miss! No advisor should dictate the speech of a King!" She hissed. "Where are we going?"
"Lady Eowyn's chambers are near the back of Meduseld, I am hoping we can get to her without another confrontation with the Worm." Marik said quickly, leading her to a door at the back. There was only one guard standing before it.
"Move aside." Marik ordered him. "We go to see Lady Eowyn, we are expected." He said, even though they were not. The guard nodded sleepily and let them pass.
Moments later they came to a door, Marik knocked softly on it. The shuffling sounds of feet could be heard to Naltariel's ears from the other side of the door. It opened seconds later, a woman with long pale blond hair hanging down her back and a cold expression on her face glared at them, a dagger lifted in her hand.
"Marik!" She cried, dropping the dagger and throwing herself into the Mans arms. "Where have you been? How fares Eomer?" She asked quickly, pulling him inside the room. It was then that she noticed Naltariel, she paused. "Hello."
"Hello. Eomer has told me much about you." Naltariel said politely, for it was true. She had eventually weaseled out information about his beloved sister during their training.
"You have spoken with Eomer?" She asked hesitantly.
"Lady Eowyn, this is Lady Naltariel of Lorien. Eomer has brought her to you in hopes that you would look after her until she decides to return to her home. She is fleeing from an arranged marriage." Marik explained.
Eowyn smiled. "Of course, come in." She gestured for the Elf to enter her chambers and both Naltariel and Marik were lead to a small table. They all sat. "How does Eomer fare?"
*
After several hours of Marik and Eowyn speaking in soft voices about the tidings of Eomer, Eowyn turned to Naltariel. "I note you carry a sword by your side, are you a sheildmaiden?"
Both Marik and Naltariel began to laugh remembering all the incidents from her training, indeed once she had almost taking off Marik's head. "Your brother was instructing me. I'm afraid my education was brought to swift end after some . . . accidents though."
"You nearly took off my head! Not to mention Eomer's arm!" Marik exclaimed.
"I didn't say I was very good at it." Naltariel said indignantly. "And besides, it's not like I was intentionally trying to harm you." She laughed, but it was cut short when she saw an eagle perched on the window sill of Eowyn's room.
She silently rose, going swiftly to the window. The bird have a little cry then jumped up onto her shoulder, perching lightly there, mindful of it's talons so they did not mar her skin. "Do you have papyrus and ink?" She asked Eowyn.
The other woman nodded and quickly returned with a sheet of white paper and an ink jar and quill. She set them upon the table and began to write in elvish:
Father;
I will not return to Lorien until I am sure your plans are not to wed me off to Lord Lathun and that you accept and condone mine and Haldir's love for one another. He now wears Estelara around his throat as a token of my love for him. This is where I plan on staying for a while, in Edoras. You can send another messenger of this sort to me when you have come to terms with this and are willing to accept what I have said.
Love Naltariel
PS. Tell Mother I love her and ask her to come out of her chambers if she hasn't already. She need not grieve me, I have come to no harm.
She rolled up the letter and tore three strands of hair from her head. She quickly braided them together, then tied the note to the eagles ankle with the braid. The eagle cried out then lifted itself into the air and flew from the room with great speed back towards Lorien.
"And that was?" Eowyn asked.
"A messenger of my father." Naltariel replied. "The night is old and morning is not far."
"Your right, I cannot believe I have been so rude! You have been travelling and your surely exhausted! Let me show you to your chambers." Eowyn cried, standing up from her chair. "Marik, are you at least going to stay the night in your dwelling or do you return to my brothers side?"
"I must return to your brother, my Lady. Perhaps we will see each other again soon." Marik answered, bowing to the ladies and wishing them both farewell then he slipped from the room and continued down the hall out of sight of the others.
Eowyn turned back to Naltariel and led her down the dark halls. "So tell me of this man you love." Eowyn said quietly. Naltariel looked at her in surprise, she had not mentioned Haldir anywhere during the course of the evening and neither had Marik. Eowyn laughed. "I know a small portion of elvish, you wrote "mine and Haldir's love" so come, tell me of him."
Naltariel laughed slightly. "Haldir is one of the three March Wardens of Lothlorien. He is noble and strong, though his temper can get away from his control easily. We grew up together as friends. Things changed after leaving Lorien for Rivendell I suppose, I stayed in Imladris for a hundred years and when I returned it was just different."
"A hundred years! What is your age now?" Eowyn asked in surprise.
"One thousand nine hundred ninety eight years." Naltariel said lightly, enjoying the shock of speaking her age before such mortals. "I am young compared to many, indeed, both my father and Lord Elrond were already several thousand years old when the Dark Lord rose the first time."
"It is incredible." Eowyn said. "You Elves can live for eternity, while we are but lucky to make it past seventy, and even that is with the help of a little of the Numenorean blood."
Naltariel gazed at Eowyn for a moment. "You mature faster than us. By seventy, people of my kind are barely out of the crib and walking. Small elflings are only seventy. They rejoice with grand celebrations as they reach one hundred. It is at their hundredth that they stop being an elfling and are then an elf, though a young one."
"Does time pass faster for you than it does for us? Does a year seem to you as long of a time as it is to us?" Eowyn asked gently.
"Time passes the same for all the living things upon Middle-Earth, we are merely left to endure it longer." Naltariel answered. "Your mortality is a gift, Lady Eowyn. Your people are able to pass into the White Halls without going through battle, murder, or suicide. There is no other way out for us."
"But still! Immortality is a gift as well! And a far better one in my eyes." Eowyn cried. "To live through the ages, remembering things that have passed into legend, to speak of them as though it had not happened more than ten years before. That is a gift. What knowledge you must have!"
"Yes, the gift of wisdom is upon my people, but also the curse of sorrow and loss. When you lose one you care about, Men have only a maximum of seventy years to wait before they can meet again. For the Elves it is a far different story, many do not ever meet again." Naltariel said sadly. "Grief follows us throughout the ages."
Eowyn stopped before a closed door, she opened it and gave a cry of alarm at the dark figure standing in the middle of the room. It turned and Naltariel could clearly make out the face of Grima Wormtongue, the Kings advisor.
"What are you doing in here?" Eowyn demanded.
"The question, Lady Eowyn, is what are you doing in here?" He replied smoothly. Eowyn faltered, unable to answer the question.
"Hotuli orya, elye saura ango!" (Come out of her, you foul snake) Naltariel said angrily, her eyes glittering. Eowyn suddenly blinked and looked around, her eyes falling angrily on Grima.
"Get out of here!" She snapped. "These are the chambers of Lady Naltariel, you have no business here!"
Wormtongue stared at her in shock, his spell over her was broken and now he feared the wrath of the fierce sheildmaiden. He nodded quickly and pushed past her out of the room, his shoulder brushing against Naltariel as he went. He cried out clutching his shoulder.
"What devilry is this?" He demanded, trying his words upon Naltariel.
"Your spell has no effect on my, Lord. And there is no devilry unless from you. You were burned by my touch, only those who are evil need to fear the touch of an Elf." Naltariel replied slowly her penetrating gaze staring down upon him.
He stepped back, staring at her in fear then fled down the dark halls out of their sight. Naltariel sighed and turned back to Eowyn. "Are you alright, Lady Eowyn?"
" . . . yes . . . I don't know what happened though. All of a sudden I heard this voice within my head telling me to leave." She said slowly, sitting down on one of the chairs within the room.
"It was as I expected. His words are poison." Naltariel said quietly as she stepped into the room. "Be careful not to listen to him too long."
Yay, updates should be on the way, just so long as you tell me to get my butt in gear. :D I FINALLY got over my writers block. :D