I do not own Erestor, Middle Earth, Manwe, Melkor Morgoth, or Denethor.

I did create Mellolaes, Sarnin, Lathwinn, and her brothers.

This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained. :)

Twangs erupted around her. Sarnin opened her eyes. Crunches and splashes surrounded her. Sarnin raised her head and looked about. Dark lumps lay upon the gravel, the sand, and in the water. Whooshes ending in softer sounds of stirred gravel and crushed sand followed. Then forms stepped out from the shadows and into the light of the stars.

The figures were slight. Cloth hung from their shoulders and heads. Slender legs moved beneath the hems of these green cloaks. Three of the forms were shorter than Sarnin. Two taller were taller. A merry voice came from one of the taller ones.

"Why did you tell the first two to run away, aunty? You 'know' we five came here just to hunt them, whatever you came to do."

The shortest and slimmest figure walked up to Sarnin. A soft and musical voice lilted from it. "She warned them, because she is gentle-hearted. She was not supposed to be within 'feeling' distance of a stranger let alone surrounded by death this night."

A younger elleth threw her hood back and smiled into the face of the older. Some tears gleamed in her eyes. "I'm sorry you had to be surrounded by death just now, Aunt Sarnin."

Sarnin smiled down into the face of her niece. Tears shone as a brilliant gloss over her eyes too. "I am alright now young one."

Another voice spoke from near a larger lump in the sand. "We never expected you to play bait for us, Aunt Sarnin. What were you about down here this time of night?"

A sterner voice came from another tall form. "You went farther than we told you we would be able to feel you."

Lathwinn looked down at the form before her aunt's feet and pointed. "He is why, is he not?"

Sarnin nodded, "Yes."

Lathwinn knelt down before the form of her aunt's patient. Her brows rose. She whistled to herself.

One of the taller forms looked their way. "Is he going to live until we get him home to bury him?"

The other tall form turned it's head. Lathwinn could feel the scowl from it mirroring her own. Lathwinn then turned back and touched the unconscious ellon at her aunt's feet. "I think … even if he knows it not … this one is too stubborn to die just yet."

"Good for him. Now take him and our aunt out of this trap of a canyon to where the stars and moon shine unhindered. We, your brothers, shall gather and then pile up the orcs' bodies far from the river."

The shortest ellon lifted his face to the sky and groaned. The tall one who gave no orders slapped him on the back. "Brace thyself, like a warrior, little brother. You are the one who always insists on accompanying us. Our hunts aren't all brave acts of heroism."

The other tall ellon sighed heavily. The most silent of the wakeful ellon rolled his eyes, but all four of them went to work gathering up the orc bodies as Lathwinn guided her aunt to the canyon wall. Once there, she helped both her and their patient out of the canyon, though her hand often rested on a hilt peeking out from her belt. Soon all three of them were indeed out where the silver light of star and moon bathed them. The two elleth peered back over the edge of the canyon wall to see the wakeful ellon dragging their burdens to the point from which they had ascended out since it had proven itself a place one could climb up carrying a burden. Smiling, the two elleth then turned their attention fully to their patient.

. . .

"Why do you Silvans always put Lathwinn the Great into your stories?"

Mellolaes snapped out of her story-teller's trance and glared at Erestor. "Because she is Lathwinn the Great!"

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God Bless

ScribeofHeroes