I apologize ahead of time for any mistakes in spelling or grammar. it's currently 2 in the morning and i didnt want to go to bed until i finished this chapter. I had a very hard time with it. As always, please let me know what you think in a review, it would mean a lot to me.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: i do not own LOTR, just my OC's and the plot of this story.

6 Months later

A breeze blew through the trees and across the grass, lightly ruffling the hair of the figure stood in the village cemetery. Fravardin crouched down in front of a headstone, placing a bouquet of flowers she had collected on top of the grave. Memories flashed through the woman's mind, both happy and terrifying. She put her hand on the engraving carved on the stone and sighed.

Fidel

"Hello Mum. Long time no see." A tear slid down her cheek.

About a week after the attack on the village, her and her uncle had found shelter with a large group of travelers, and they had accompanied them back to the village to lay the dead to rest. No one had wanted to stay for long. The tragedy that had struck Tasneem was sudden and without warning. Many did not know what was happening even as they were breathing their last breaths. Even with the sun shining brightly that day the village still felt cold and eerie, as if the tormented spirits of the villagers, whose happy lives were so suddenly ripped away from them, were still present. No one knew where the werewolves had gone either. It seemed as if they just came to destroy the village and everyone in it, and then disappeared.

She stood and looked at what was left of her home. Some of the homes were blackened by the fires that had almost consumed them; others had windows, doors, or whole walls missing. Screams of the past echoed in her head. She took a deep breath and blinked back more tears that were threatening to fall. The woman turned and looked towards the docks; her favorite place as a child. Somehow, during all the chaos, the docks remained untouched. It was still how she remembered it, with the dock leaning dangerously to one side yet still remaining sturdy. She smiled at the memory of her uncle coming to sit with her on her birthday. Finally, very slowly, her gaze shifted towards the inn. Old, ripped curtains hung out of the broken windows and the front doors were hanging by the hinges; swaying back and forth in the breeze and creating an ominous squeaking that echoed throughout the ghost town. A heavy sadness filled her mind as she slowly began walking towards the inn; the air around her growing colder with each step, despite the warm rays of the sun shining down on the village. Standing in front of the doorway, she shut her eyes and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. She did this multiple times, trying to calm the emotions raging inside her mind.

I know it's a lot to take in. All that we had… everything we loved was ripped away from us.

Opening her eyes, she stepped into the broken building; broken glass crunching beneath her boots. Her sorrowful gaze noted the broken tables and chairs where her and her uncle had spent that night talking; the same tables that she had danced on, playing her fiddle on her birthday with all of her friends, happy as could be without a care in the world. All of them now lay buried in the ground, some of them in pieces.

But you cannot keep going on like this lass. All of this grief is tearing you up inside.

She looked towards the bar. Its surface was still intact, but the wood was rotting and there were weeds growing up through the floorboards and weaving around the wooden surface of the bar. The tankards and various metal cups were all rusted with their handles falling off and large portions of them were chipped off. The racks on the wall that had held all of the ale and wine were still in place, alcohol and all. Spider webs now decorated most spaces on the rack, connecting the necks of many bottles with one long strand of web. She looked towards the back of the inn.

You cannot keep it all bottled up, it will become too much to bear; thinking about it every waking moment and allowing it to torment you in your dreams.

The back door had been ripped off of the frame that night, that frame now rotting and falling; creating a large hole in the back wall. The stairs to the rooms had been destroyed as well. Fravardin took a step back and bounced on the balls of her feet before running at the broken stairs and using them to propel herself upwards toward the second floor. She landed lightly, and began to walk carefully across the old floor boards. Tasneem was a small village, and did not have many travelers, so the inn really did not need many extra rooms. It was her and her mother's room, Sergio's room, and two guest rooms. Walking forward she could see that it had burned. There was a fire in the fireplace that night, and like in many of the other houses, it went out of control. There was nothing left that she could try and salvage from her mother's possessions. Jumping back to the first floor, she slowly walked towards the door with her shoulders slumped forwards and her head hanging.

If you ever hope to move past this… feeling hopeless… and lost… and so very alone…

She turned to look one last time at the place she had once called home.

You have to be able to find light, even if it's just a wee bit, in the darkest of places.

Sunlight filtered into the room through the large holes in the roof, reflecting off of something in a corner near the bar. Fravardin walked over to the object bending down to inspect it, and stared in shock. A lone tear fell down her cheek as she reached for the item and gently picked it up. Lying in her hands, undamaged and without a scratch, was her fiddle and its bow; shinning in the sunlight and seemingly frozen in time. Cradling the instrument close to her chest, the woman slowly stood and walked out of the door and towards the old docks. She stood in the sunlight looking out over the river; hugging the fiddle close.

There is still so much life in ya, even more than before!

She turned her head and looked at the graveyard and what was left of her village before looking back over the river. The woman began plucking at the strings of her instrument, and to her surprise it was in tune. She brought the instrument up to rest on her shoulder and tucked it under her chin before bringing the bow up and running it across the strings for the first time in almost forty six years. The vibration of the strings produced a long, smooth sound that echoed throughout the village. She had forgotten the pure joy that came to her when playing the instrument and her eyes began to water. Relaxing her shoulders and changing her stance, she brought the bow up again and began to play.

Ya have to let it all out, in whatever way that may be. Only after ya have released all of that pain and sadness ya have, can ya truly begin to heal and begin a new chapter in your life.

A sad and haunting melody echoed throughout the abandoned village. Tears fell from Fravardin's eyes as she poured out everything that she had kept bottled up inside for over four decades.

The disappearance of her Father.

The attack on her village.

The death of everyone she ever knew and loved.

The death of her uncle.

The song reflected such deep sadness and pain, that the very earth itself seemed effected by it. The clouds overhead began gathering, blocking out the rays of the sun before releasing a heavy rainfall and a light breeze returned.

So please lass... One last thing for me. Do not despair. Do not focus on the things that could have been. Do not keep yourself locked in the darkness of your past. Find a new path for yourself, and fill it with light.

As her uncles last words played in her head, her melody began to change. The sorrow and pain slowly began to recede from her tune, slowly being replaced by sounds of hope and light from the memories of the friendships and love she once had. The rain became lighter as the clouds parted for rays of sun to peak through.

I love ya Frevardin. Do not ever forget that.. my daughter.

Her last note echoed throughout Tasneem as she slowly lowered her instrument, her eyes puffy and red. She looked up at the newly formed rainbow in the sky, glittering in the sunlight. Turning towards the cemetery, she walked to her mother's grave and gently placed the fiddle and bow next to it before standing. With one last glance she turned and began walking towards her horse which she had kept under the cover of a tree nearby, but stopped dead when she spotted a man standing in front of the tree line on the other side of the river. Her heart began racing as her wide eyes continued to stare at the figure. She whispered one word, with a tremble in her voice.

"F-father?"

I know this chapter is shorter than the others, but hopefully it was still good. I think i had around 3 separate drafts with different directions to take the story in, and i settled for this one. I think for now I may start with weekly updates. I know the chapters are short, but it takes me a while to get everything i'm visualizing into words. and as i said i write many different versions of it. I start on one, don't like it, try another, still don't like it, then another and kind of like it, but then i want to see which idea sounds better, so i write more for each one and then pick the best.

Just to clear up any confusion, even though she saw Sergio as her father, she still called him uncle.

Please review and let me know what you think. I really want to get your feedback.

Until next time,

~Cooking-ninja