Chapter 1
It was after midnight in the eerie woods. The wind whistled through the tops of the ancient trees, and a lonely figure wrapped a cloak tighter around him. Suddenly, he realized that the wind was not the only sound in the darkness as shrill cries pierced the night air. The cloaked figure pulled his horse to a halt, listening carefully. Once again, he heard distressed wailing in the night air. Dismounting, the man walked slowly off the road, attempting to follow the sounds. He halted his long strides, and realized the crying continued off in a clearing to his right. Pulling his sword out, he crept cautiously towards the pitiful sounds. The scent of smoke and blood reached him and he hurried forward, clearing the forest. He gasped at the carnage before him as he entered the clearing. A dwarven caravan lay smoldering in flames, and bodies lay carved in ruin about the camp. His keen eyes quickly surveyed the area, but he sensed that who or whatever had caused this massacre had moved on. His grey eyes finally came to rest on a woman lying in the grass, a covered basket just inches from her dead outstretched arms. He rushed forward to the basket as another cry broke the silence. He quickly pulled off the cover to the basket. His gaze softened at the sight of a infant that gazed up at him, its panicked cries ceasing in surprise at this stranger. The child's ice blue eyes studied him warily, unsure if this stranger was friend or foe. Sheathing his sword, he murmured softly to the babe as he gently lifted it into his arms. A quick check revealed the child was unharmed, swaddled in soft linen with a silver bracelet around its little wrist. He held the baby close to his body, shielding it from the bitter wind. He searched the basket, but it appeared to be empty except for a piece of parchment. After perusing it briefly, he gasped in realization at the young child in his arms. The runes of the letter left him speechless. For he, Gandalf the Grey, held in his arms the child of a dwarven king and a human. The child was the last living member of the Firestone clan, and (if the letter was to be believed), one of the last descendants of the line of Elendil. He gazed down into the tiny bundle, which snuggled closer to him, curling its little fingers in his beard. If he was to believe the letter, this child could change a great many things in Middle Earth. A sudden howling of Wargs broke his thoughts, and the child whimpered. As he looked into its tiny face, he felt a surge of energy pass through him. Stunned, he realized that not only had it had come from the child, he could feel a power deep within the tiny body. He knew this child must be protected, hidden until it could properly control its power, and defend itself. An idea slowly formed in his mind. Making a quick decision, he held his staff to the stars, muttering under his breath. The spell he wove would hide his tracks, and he made his way quickly back to his horse. He silently rode away into the night, and the child soon fell to sleep, swaddled warmly beneath his cloak.
A pair of yellow eyes glared into the clearing. He had failed. The brat had not been killed. His master would not be pleased. He swore in Black Speech and wheeled his Warg away from the ashes of the caravan. If he had to wait until the meddling wizard revealed the child's existence, he would. The child must never be allowed to fulfill its destiny. The line of Firestone…and the line of Elendil must end.
As the sun rose hours later, Gandalf rode into the Valley of Imladris. Although he knew he should inform the Wizard Council of the child's existence, something held him back. He knew the only person he could truly trust was his old friend, Lord Elrond. He would know what to do with the child, who lay sleeping in his cloak, its tiny fingers still wrapped in his beard. He rode up to the gates of Rivendell and, after dismounting his stallion, was quickly led into the great hall. He glanced around at the servants who were busily preparing the room for breakfast, when he heard a familiar voice welcome him. "Mithrandir, what an unexpected surprise this is," his old friend greeted warmly. The tall, slim figure of the Elf Lord approached him, arms open wide in greeting. Lord Elrond's long, coffee-colored hair flowed down his back, while two braids adorned each side of his face. His equally dark eyes smiled warmly from beneath the circlet of silver on his brow.
"Gwannas lu and, my Lord Elrond," Gandalf replied with a smile. As he approached the elf, he could feel a stirring from the child, still hidden under his cloak. "May we speak in private?" Gandalf asked, looking around at the other elves talking amongst themselves throughout the hall. His friend raised an eyebrow, but motioned for him to follow. As they entered a private chamber, a small cry broke the silence. Elrond turned to see Gandalf pulling a small bundle from beneath his cloak. As he approached, Gandalf pulled back the linen coverlet to reveal a beautiful infant in his arms. The child's eyes were open, and it gazed up at the new face looking at it. Elrond smiled in surprise at the startling blue eyes which seemed to almost be examining him with interest. He was rewarded with a tiny smile in return, as the child decided he was no threat, and reached its little hands for him.
"Sevin dhaw?" he asked, turning to Gandalf. The old man humbly handed his elven friend the baby, which cooed happily, a tiny hand grasping his long hair. He smiled affectionately at the tiny creature as it babbled to him, tugging gently on his hair. Suddenly he gasped as he felt its power. "Man sa?" he whispered in surprise. Gandalf nodded as he sat down in a chair near the fireplace.
"I too have felt it. The power in this child is beyond any I have ever known," Gandalf replied.
"O van odul, Gandalf?" Elrond asked.
"I found the child in a clearing, among a burning dwarven caravan….along with this." He handed the letter to Elrond, who quickly read the runes, then stared at the baby in his arms in disbelief. The child, oblivious to his wonder, attempted to grab his finger and guided it towards its mouth. He noticed the silver bracelet around it's wrist, and he peered down to examine it closer. The design was both dwarven and yet…He raised his eyes to Gandalf.
"Do you mean to say that this child is…half dwarf and half man? The line of Firestone and Elendil? Such a thing has never been heard of!"
"Agreed, but if this letter is to be true, this child will have a great part to play in the future of Middle Earth. You felt the power in its soul, my lord. This child must be protected, until it can be taught to properly wield this power." Elrond raised his eyebrow as he realized what Gandalf was truly saying. The baby started to fuss, its tiny tummy finally making its presence known. Passing the child back to Gandalf, Elrond opened the door and gestured to a female Elf, requesting some milk be brought at once. Once the babe was contentedly suckling on a bottle in his friend's arms, Elrond spoke again.
"You believe this child to be a descendant of Anarion, brother to Isildur, and of one of the seven dwarven kings. Man cerig hi, Gandalf? Why have you not sought to take the child to its kin?" Gandalf sighed.
"If the lineage of this child is what it appears to be, to whom shall I take it? To the dwarves…or the race of men? I cannot choose. This child must be raised unaware of its past, until it is ready to seek out its future. It must be kept secret…it must be kept safe." Elrond raised his head in thought.
"You have not told the Council, have you?" He sighed as Gandalf shook his head.
"Elrond, something keeps me from saying too much about this child to anyone. I know that I ask a great favor…my lord, may she remain safe here in Rivendell?" Elrond smiled at the recognition of the child's gender. He saw the caring way the Gandalf held the now contented child, and he knew that he could not turn her away. He nodded silently and took the child gently from Gandalf. Gandalf smiled fondly as he prepared to leave, promising to return often to tutor the girl.
"She will be raised to love and respect all nations, Elvish, Dwarven and Men. Tell me Gandalf, does she have a name?"
"Her name comes from the ashes I found her in, for the glow inside her. Ember." Elrond looked at the sleeping girl in his arms.
"Yuula," he whispered in Elvish. He again felt the spark of power in her, and he knew the name suited her perfectly. He was surprised when Gandalf bent to kiss the tiny brow. The baby burped, yawned, the promptly closed its eyes, snuggling into the Elf's arms as it fell asleep. Gandalf stared lovingly at the child, then inclined his head in thanks to his dear friend. Elrond walked silently beside his friend as they headed out into the warm morning, ignoring the curious stares from the other elves for now. He watched silently as Gandalf mounted his horse and rode away into the night. Elrond turned to the child in his arms. "Yuula…Ember." He murmured thoughtfully, then turned back into the great hall, the beautiful girl slumbering peacefully in his arms.
Gwannas lu and - It has been too long
Man sa - What was that
Sevin dhaw - May I
O van odul - Where did it come from
Man cerig hi - What are you doing here
This is my first fanfiction. I own nothing, only my character Ember.