The last chapter was my attempt at writing a fighting scene. Hope it was at least decent...
47 Years ago...
Glorfindel held my arm as he guided me through the palace. I hated it but I let him in case I were to fall on my face. He did, however, let go of me in the straight halls.
I walked with purpose.
I had to know that Glorfindel was telling me the truth.
That Gilraen and her son had made it to Rivendell safely. That my father and brother didn't die for nothing in trying to get them to safety.
Glorfindel pulled me to a stop with a slight tug. The sound of a door opening before me, made me perk up slightly.
"...do not fear Gilraen, you-" Elrond's voice stopped when I pushed my way past Glorfindel and into the room.
"Shyra!" that familiar voice rang through my ears and I felt arms wrap around me. That warmth made me relax for the first time since I was brought here.
"Oh...your eyes…" Gilraen whispered solemnly as she cupped my face in her hands. She was almost ten years older than me and taller by a foot. I pulled myself away from her and tilted my head to the side. The sound of a toddler babbling to my left somewhere came to my heightened ears.
"He lives?" I spoke, Gilraen glided away toward where the toddler was before coming back to me.
"He's safe and sound, thanks to you and your family…" she said as I reached up and clasped a small, chubby hand in my fingers. The toddler babbled and I smiled.
My family's sacrifice wasn't in vain.
"Hello Aragorn." I murmured, feeling the tiny hand clasp around my fingers. I never really took a liking to children at the time. But at this point, Aragorn was too small to be too much of a pest.
"We have decided to call him Estel in fear of Sauron discovering him too soon." Elrond said, I had forgotten he was still there.
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"Hope." he replied, I started a little at that. A thought came to me at that moment.
"That...has a good ring to it...just sounds like a girl's name." Gilraen chuckled a little while Elrond grumbled something in Elvish. I smiled a little at my joke but a thought in my head kept me from laughing.
This boy whose hand I held, carried the blood of kings. He was alive because of my family's sacrifice. The sacrifice that took my eyes. At that moment of silence, I made a promise to myself.
A promise that I would too, have hope. Hope in this decaying world that was falling into darkness.
Hope for this boy.
I made a silent oath to him and my fallen family. That I would see Aragorn sit upon that stone chair in Gondor. One way or another. No, my family's sacrifice was not yet complete but neither was it in vain.
I didn't speak this oath out loud because I'm not one for drama. Instead, a silent, inner promise to the boy king, my father, my brother…
And to myself...
