Saruman was busy mixing orcs with goblin men, breeding an army to destroy Middle Earth. Saurons' eye was fixed upon every land of Men and Elves, and their fate sat upon the fragile shoulders of a hobbit. For hours, Gandalf sat and talked to Nimirher telling her everything. She had left Isengard, escaping Sarumans' crazed mind to only encounter an even bigger threat.
For the past two days, she had spent all her free time in the company of the four hobbits inhabiting Rivendell. Poor Frodo had encountered a Morgul blade as well. It took him seventeen days to awake from his pain induced coma. By his side was the dear chubby hobbit, Sam. She wouldn't tell any of the hobbits this, for fear of retaliation, but he happened to be her favorite. He was such a dedicated friend, having stayed by Frodos' side the entire time he was passed out waiting for him to open his eyes. Merry and Pippin on the other hand, were definitely the light bearers during the dark times. Their constant bickering over trivial things like the amount of mead they could handle or who had a better singing voice was great to witness for Nimirher. She hadn't been around many people who could be so carefree and happy.
She sat by the fire burning in the Gathering Hall thinking to herself. Gandalf told her a council meeting would take place tomorrow to determine the fate of the ring. Representatives from the race of Men, Dwarves, and Elves would arrive early tomorrow to attend as well. She had managed to convince Gandalf and Lord Elrond that she had an important place amongst that council. There was no way in hell she would be sitting out on something that would decide the fate of their world.
Bringing her hand forward, she placed it within the core of the burning flame before her. She felt absolutely nothing, just watched as the flames licked her fingers. In the years under Sarumans' attention, she had only managed to manipulate fire but not create it. Sure if you gave her a burning torch, she could turn it into a raging forest fire destroying every enemy in site, but having to create fire from nothing seemed like an impossible task. She could never call herself a wizard when her skills lacked so much power.
"A young woman with so many thoughts running through her mind can go crazy." The deep male voice startled Nimirher. Realizing too late her hand was still consumed within the fires' core, she shot to her feet losing control and sending a large fireball in the direction of the bushes outside. Her lack of skill decided to rear its ugly head again, engulfing the bush within is fiery cavern. Cursing under his breath, the man ripped his cloak from around his neck and rushed forward to dissolve the flames. Sighing deeply and cursing Eru, Nimirher raised her hand and closed it tightly in a ball, extinguishing the smoky bush.
The man halted his mad dash, staring in awe at the charred yet flame free shrubbery. Dropping his cloak he chuckled, "Well its good to know you can extinguish something just as fast as you can set it on fire."
"I'm sorry you startled me. Who are you?" asked Nimirher.
The man turned around, giving her a chance to take in his full frame. He was a very tall, attractive man, obviously older than herself, but attractive none the less. All the way from his tunic to his breeches, his body was draped in black. His facial hair showed a man that spent many days out on the road. It still couldn't take attention away from his blue eyes. Walking with a poise she had only seen in Elves before, he approached and bowed slightly, "My name is Aragorn. I am a friend of Gandalfs."
Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Gandalf had told her stories of him as well. He was a brave warrior, but also a man with a higher destiny he wasn't ready for. Last time Gandalf had spoken of him to her, he had been heeding Gandalfs advice and standing guard over the Shire. "Its nice to meet you Aragorn. Gandalf has told me a lot about you."
"And that would be the same for you. You must be Nimirher." He smirked and sat down on the bench she had been previously occupying, "He told me to look for a girl that had a fortune for flame."
Sighing deeply she sat down beside Aragorn, "My mind was wandering elsewhere."
The council was definitely still on her mind. In less than a months time, she had learned that she could no longer trust Saruman for he now ran leagues with Sauron. The One Ring of power was currently resting in a bedroom a few feet from her own, and all she could think about was where her path lied. If Saruman was so easily corrupted, then why wasn't she by his side right now. Being tossed out her Gondorian home had shown her how treacherous her powers could be. Where else did you see fire burning constantly but in the land of Mordor. Had she been meant for something more evil? Was there a plan for her that Gandalf and Elrond had not seen? It had been so easy for her to walk away from the life she had known for ten years and embrace the company of people she had only just met. If there was a bigger story for the tiny hobbit sleeping a few feet from her room, why couldn't she?
Aragorn nodded and scratched his chin, "I remember many years ago when Gandalf paid me a visit and told me of a young girl that had been taken in by a friend of his. She had been shunned by others. Shewas quiet and reserved, hating the company of people in the beginning. Yet, she had somehow managed to set his cart on fire,"
Nimirher stopped breathing for a moment and slowly let out a chuckle. She remembered that day. It had been the third time Gandalf had come to see Saruman and the third attempt he had made to be friends with her. She had been so angry. She couldn't understand how people she had known since birth could just give her up but someone she hardly knew, was trying so hard to become her friend. Eventually over the angry inner dialogue of a ten year old girl, she had somehow managed to overreact and set his cart on fire.
"And in that short visit, he told me that he had just met one of the most gifted young women he had ever seen but she knew so little of what she was capable of."
Aragorn finished his speech to stare at Nimirher. She had gotten lost in his words; her stare fixed upon the core of the fire.
She hadn't known Gandalf had so much faith in her. She had fought so many inner battles, wondering why she was the only one with her powers. For too long she had been fed to think she was only capable of pain and destruction. There was no rebuilding a quiet peaceful world with her, she was a weapon. Meant to take the world down and beg on their knees. "Why are you telling me this?"
Aragorn placed his hands gently on her shoulders turning her to face him, "You fight hard within yourself. I can see it in your eyes but you are strong. You have refused his influence thus far. Gandalf will not let you fall to darkness."
Nimirher stared in disbelief at the man in front of her. He held wisdom beyond his years in those eyes. She had never met this man before in her life, and yet he could read her like an open book. "And what if I'm not strong enough?"
"You are strong enough but you need to believe that. You will prove it to yourself in time. Gandalf holds much faith in you. And so do I." Removing his hands from her shoulders, he stood to pick up his cloak, "You should have no worries for tomorrow."
Aragorn gave her a crooked grin before slowly making his exit from the room, "Aragorn, wait!"
Pausing in his strong strides, he turned around giving her his full attention. Nimirher stood from her seat to walk towards him. Her steps felt so much lighter, no longer heavy with the burden that had been burying its way in her mind. Stepping up to him and placing her hands on his shoulders like he had just done, she smiled at him. "Thank you. Friends?"
"Friends."
Smoke pillars floated lazily towards the dark sky. The deep rumble of thunder threatened to disturb the silent surrender of Middle Earth. Her feet stepped silently, slinking through the fallen ranks of men like a snake seeking their next meal. Rage boiled her blood, blurring her vision and dirtying her soul. Fire engulfed her entire body licking her limbs like a quiet lover and her eyes stood black and emotionless. Funny, she thought, they all fought for the same cause and yet they all died for the same reason. Elves amongst Dwarfs, Men amongst Hobbits. Women amongst men.
Oh how she had indulged in their game of cat and mouse. Letting them think they actually stood a chance against Saurons' forces and like a dark storm, she swept down upon them raining destruction. Every body fell with a deadly grace, eyes wide in shock and horror as they watched their world burn. She was the burning beacon of hope for Saruman. The old man had chuckled watching the dead fall before her. She hated that laugh, hated that man. He thought he could take all the power for himself; away from Sauron with her help. He had successively honed his weapon, and she would have him down on his knees begging for mercy before the end.
The quiet gasps of the dying could be heard throughout the field. The Orcs continued their task of finishing off those that still lived. Driving their skewers through bodies with menacing smiles plastered to their faces. Her feet halted their slow march forward, something gentle grasping her ankle. Turning her fiery head, her black eyes connected with a pair of blue ones. The blonde Elf lay dying amongst the already dead bodies of a dwarf, men and hobbits. He did not beg for mercy, just held her blank gaze. Her soul trembled under his stare. She witnessed the death of thousands, saw children fall beneath the rusted blade of the Orcs and never did her steps falter. Ripping her ankle free from his weak grasp, she backed away slowly, not able to leave his stare. She took three steps before the light finally left his eyes and her entire world crumbled beneath her feet.
Nimirhers' eyes flew open and she struggled to pull air into her lungs. Each grasping breath dragged clawed fingers down her throat burning her lungs. Her limbs trembled as she tried extracting herself from bed. Sitting upon the edge hunched over, she proceeded to cover her sweaty face with her weak palms. It had felt so real to her. She could almost feel the fire feeding along her skin still. She had been so angry. The rage had tasted bitter upon her tongue, the cold fingers of death wrapping its way through her mind. Saruman was right when he thought of her as a weapon. Rage was apparently the missing piece, rage would allow her to reach her full potential.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, she approached the Elf maiden that sat guard outside her room. Upon seeing her pale face, the Elf rose speaking rapidly in her native tongue. Waving her hands hastily to slow the frenzied speech in front of her, Nimirher tried to reassure her she was fine. Using her hands to communicate with the Elf, she tried to show her she would like help in gathering hot water for a bath. The Elf raised her eyebrows in confusion, probably wondering why she wished to bathe at such an early hour but obliged anyway. Denying any assistance from Nimirher, she pushed her back into her room, allowing her to disrobe.
Wrapping the fluffy towel around her body, she proceeded to walk down the hallway that connected her room to the washroom. The white porcelain tub stood alone in the center, held up by the delicate gold claws of the eagle, spitting out generous amounts of warm steam. Dropping her towel, she stepped cautiously into the hot water and sighed longingly when the heat devoured her body. She had hoped the water would help melt away the horrific images that still plagued her mind. Breathing in deep, she allowed the steam to enter and awaken her burning lungs. Staring out towards the balcony doors that stood before her, she could already see the rays of light from the approaching dawn. The beauty of the crisp autumn leaves should have drawn her attention away from her nightmare, but the bright blue eyes of the dying elf would not surrender its hold on her mind.
She had seemed so sure of herself walking amongst the burning dead. Her power had radiated off of her in waves, sending chills down the spines of everyone watching her. Did Gandalf know what she was truly capable of? Wincing slightly from the memory, she tried to push them to the back of her mind. How could a pair of blue eyes completely unsettle her world? She had struggled everyday she had resided in Rivendell wondering where her path lied. Did it lie with the elf with blue eyes? Or was her destiny to bring his life to an end no matter what path she chose?
Nimirher stayed in her hot bath until the water began to chill. Gathering her returning strength, she hoisted herself from the lonely tub and into her fluffy towel once again. Blissful serenity surrounded her as she made her way back to bed; the image of the blue eyed elf lying in the other room. Perhaps the hot water had served its purpose in erasing those grotesque images. They were beginning to chafe her mind and body, dragging out Nimirhers' displeasure.
A tray of fresh fruit sat on her bed awaiting for her return. Unfortunately the fruit went down far too easily and she found herself already dressing for the day. Dawn had finally kissed the walls of Elronds' house, yet still many remained curled up in their beds. Especially the hobbits in which she could actually hear them snoring from their rooms down the hall. Strapping her blade to her waist she made her way outside. Perhaps a quick sparring session with herself would clear her mind.
The luscious trees she passed only helped to remind her of her nightmare further. No trees, no sun, no life, just burnt, charred land crunching beneath feet. Clear skies would not exist in that world, just black thunder rolling constantly through. Sighing deeply, she let out a quiet string of curse words.
She continued her silent trudge through the forest with her head down. Normally having the ability to walk freely through the land of elves and witness the graceful inhabitants would have enthralled her but her soul withered. Once Gandalf saw the haunted stare she now gazed through, he would want to know her troubles. Could she tell him what she saw? Could she confirm his belief in knowing Saruman only wanted her for evil? If the old man had only wanted her for that deed…could she only be capable of such a fate? Aragorn had told her that she had already made the hard decision when she strayed from that path, yet she knew he was wrong. Leaving Saruman was the easy decision and the hardest part still laid bare before her. She would have to gain control over herself or the darkness would consume her completely.
For half a mile she dragged her haunted feet, slowly pulling herself forward. The practice fields loomed before her and already the heavy thump of arrows taking down their targets met her ears. Day and night the guards of Rivendell practiced their skills. Drawing arrows faster than lightening with an even deadlier accuracy, they towered all in Middle Earth with their skills.
Stepping through the protection of the forest, she found herself in a large circle of land completely devoid of trees or shrubbery. There most of been at least a dozen Elves standing completely silent and still before her. Though their attention remained on the solitary objects before them Nimirher knew they sensed her presence. Based upon a breathless and silent cue she couldn't hear, they raised their arms to drew an arrow from their quivers. Drawing their bows tight, they waited for the silent cue once again to release their weapon. Tall and lean, these Elves were formidable weapons; immortal beings that stood motionless and patient for their enemy to draw closer. Jumping back slightly, Nimirher watched all twelve men release their arrows at the same time, hitting the center of the wooden target 100 yards ahead of them.
Finding her skills more appropriate for the play of swords, she walked past the line of Elves towards the other side of the clearing where she wouldn't be in the line of fire. Pulling her jacket off and throwing it to the side, she stripped her baby from its sheath. The sword vibrated humbly in her hand sending shivers up her arm. This sword had been a part of her for so long. It knew all her dreams, all her miseries and it longed to taste the blood of an epic battle. Its strong blade had found the flavor of Orcs satisfying but still craved adventure.
Balancing on her back foot, she launched forward attacking her invisible enemy. Jabbing the blade forward, it found its way into an Orcs belly dropping him quickly. From behind him another charged forward. Brandishing her weapon high, she blocked the swords' attack and kicked her foot forward, pushing him. With the new distance between her and the enemy, she swung her blade high taking his head with it. One after another charged at her, thirsting for her blood and she struck them all down. The flooded thoughts of her nightmare fueled her body, pushing her farther than she had ever pushed herself before.
"A mighty enemy chases you." Skidding to a halt, her sword stuck vertically towards the sky, she turned to face the voice behind her. Aragorn stood alone, hand on his sword hilt and eyebrows raised. "Perhaps you would like a more worthy opponent?"
Dropping her arm to her side, she smirked, 'Cocky wasn't he?' Walking the short distance that stood between the two of them, she measured herself up to the man. Sure, he obviously had height, weight and strength on her but so did most people. Shrugging, she grinned, "Sure, if you think you can keep up."
His crooked grin accepted her challenge. Before Nimirher could brace herself, Aragorn leapt forward, swinging his sword hoping to disarm her. Catching his swift move in the corner of her eye, she backed up a few feet to give her enough room to block his attack. His sword landed heavy upon Aden sending vibrations up Nimirhers' arm and shoulder. He continued to come at her with frenzied speed. She could hardly get a offensive move in when she was constantly trying to defend herself. His body didn't enable him in anyway and he continued to push her back farther towards the tree line. Her jagged breaths ripped from her lungs as she tried to keep his forces back. She would have loved to say she took down the mighty Aragorn, but that would not be the case today. She took two more steps backwards from the sheer force of his sword hitting hers and she found her back pinned against a tree. Dropping her sword, she surrendered to Aragorn.
Slowly lowering his sword, he strapped it back to his waist. "You're a good fighter but you're letting your mind wander too far. It wanders too far and it'll get you killed."
Putting the sword back in its sheath, she made to speak but her feeble attempt was thwarted by the roaring sound of a horn being blown. Turning her head towards Aragorn, she raised a questioning brow.
"That is the Horn of Gondor. The rest of the counsel has arrived." Finding no concern on his face, she placed her hand on the arm he had offered her.