Author's Note-
Yes, hello all! I decided I'm continuing the story whether others want me too or not! I'm enjoying myself far too much to stop now. So, in honor of the genius of Tolkien and Peter Jackson's adapted universe, here we are... Be patient if you're only here for certain "scenes", romance takes time to blossom, after all. Reviews, as always, are just as welcome as followers and their categorized ilk. I'd appreciate a little support from time to time to let me know you care. :)
May the stars shine upon you!
Signed, Sherlockium.
Nightfall
The other members of the Fellowship had taken to slumber by the time Myra and I had reached their camp site. The hobbits were curled up nearest to the cliff side while Aragorn and Gimli stood guard around them. They had formed a sort of lazy semi-circle, the heaviest of the guard centered around Frodo and the Ring. Boromir looked less comfortable in his position as first watch tonight; his back against the tree and his shoulders heavy with the burden of a pack on his shoulders. They had probably made him watchman tonight after witnessing his increasing hysteria whilst in the presence of the golden band round Frodo's neck. I told Myra to stand back for a while I coaxed Boromir to allow me the first watch instead. All courage within me had vanished when I considered the very real possibility of my companions actually meeting the half-breed healer girl. I did not know how the others, besides the faithful Aragorn and wise Gandalf, would take to meeting another woman on this quest after so long. The Ring had affected us all in ways that I could not care to admit. Not wishing to take any chances, I waited until I heard heavy breathing from Boromir and saw his eyes fall closed in a deep, unwaking sleep, sprawled out far from any of the others and even farther from us. I beckoned Myra to me with an impatient wave of the hand, and she walked towards me, as nimble as any elf-woman I had seen. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted in a delicate expression of innocence. I grinned, unused to having seen that look of naiveté on an elfin face since all elves were all at least a few centuries old by the time I had encountered them. Her next words dropped like lead in the night air between us.
"Why do you hide me from them?" Her words sounded so hurt and infantile, causing a sort of stirring of sympathy within me, "Are you ashamed of me?"
I scoffed, placing my arms across my chest as I leaned against the birch tree nearby, watching her with my eyes never leaving her crookedly beautiful features, "I should not feel shamed by any of my kin, half-breed or no."
She bowed her head, the night wind pulling her hair away from her face enough that I could see the scar there. I frowned, tracing the wound with the tip of my thumb. "Rhaich!" I cursed, my gaze stunned by the presence of a scar where all wounds should heal, "How long has it been since you received this?"
She flushed, looking uncomfortable again. I grabbed her by the shoulders, releasing her within moments as I sheepishly realized that I had allowed my passions to get the better of me, "Myra... That scar should not be there."
She cocked her head, "And why not?"
I pulled her hair back over the unsightly thing, my fingers still burning from when my skin had touched hers, "It is against the nature of our peoples for a wound to take so long to heal. Do you have no mother or father of elvish blood to tell you that?"
"I am a half-breed," She whispered numbly, "My father cast me from his home when I grew old enough to fare well on my own. He insisted he wanted nothing to do with half-breeds after my mother died." There was silence as I saw the raw, pained emotion flooding her features with shadow. During the silence, I finally opened my mouth to comfort her in some way.
I am sorry, beloved lady. "Goheno nin, hiril vuin," I began to translate the phrase in the common tongue when she startled me by replying.
"Ná, hîr vuin." She grinned as I stared at her with bemusement in my eyes, "I can speak some Elvish, if you must know."
I smirked, leaning my head back against the tree as I slid gracefully down to the grass below. "I apologize that I could not bring you to camp today. I feared the worst when the Ring was present in this quest. I feared that the others would not take so kindly to you."
Myra nodded, sitting next to me, so near that her thinly clothed leg was touching mine, "So it is. Gandalf had told me everything before I told him that I wanted to join him." She lowered her head, the human blood within her causing her to feel weary, "He told me of a quest that would change the future of Middle Earth for the better... or the worse. I love Gandalf like the dearest of uncles. He raised me when he found me orphaned outside my father's home. I told him that I would follow him everywhere, but he didn't believe me. He left me with no explanation save that he was going out for a walk. When he didn't return, I tracked him here to this campsite, certain that he was going to go on this quest without me."
I smiled as I felt her head fall onto my shoulder, her lips parted as she began to snore peacefully, "A shame he almost left you," I waited till I felt the rhythm of her heartbeat go completely steady, and then I chose to press my hand over her shoulder, my fingers splayed just north of the shadowed area of no return. I chose not to think of Myra as a woman. I tried, so hard, to imagine her to be a sister, but she was already changing me. In so short a time, she was playing with my emotions. I felt fear for her, an emotion elves were not wont to have. Yet, my thoughts kept straying back to her predicament. Her wound should have healed within a fortnight, half-breed or no. I had not heard of tales where Elves took sick or ill. Elves were built to die only in battle, but she was showing more signs of humanity than she was of elf blood. Could it be that she had taken sick?
No, it was not my problem. All I must focus on is this quest, and my throne back in Mirkwood.
Nights were long and arduous when one had nothing to do but sit still and be idle. I had no need for sleep nor food nor drink for so long as I lived. Food was only a pleasure for me... just as other things were pleasure for me. Yet, I had my destiny writ for me in the stars. I noticed how the forest became so cold when the night fell upon it, how the stars seemed to give the whole scene a frigid air. My breath came out in little spheres as Myra huddled groggily closer to me, her little palm accidentally fallen on my thigh. I ignored her with all my willpower, choosing instead to stare up at the stars and recite a poem from my memory, one I had remembered while feasting in the halls of my father so long ago.
"The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather;
The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,
And bright are the windows of Night in her tower..."
I ran my voice ragged till the coming of the dawn, and my heart beat furiously within me as I felt the first stirrings of an emotion I had kept withdrawn since the cradle. Cursing my impulsiveness, I placed my hand on Myra's face as she blinked drowsily up at me. Seeming to understand something I did not, she pulled a lock of my hair within a fist, pulling my lips to come crashing down on hers. Like a forest spirit, she had me enchanted. I nibbled experimentally on her lower lip, enjoying the little shriek she made of approval. Too soon the kiss ended, for before us stood Gandalf, grinning from ear to ear as he saw the pair of us, huddled like children in the heather.
"Why good morning!" He greeted us cheerily enough, "I've already told the others about Lady Myra joining us on this quest. Now get up and hurry on now. We're on a schedule in case you haven't noticed!"
Stunned, we sat there like a pair of schoolchildren, my arms around her neck and the feeling of her lips still flush on my skin. We did not get up for quite some time, but still, I remembered how wrong this all was. I could never... not with a ... a half-breed.
"Rhaich..."