Arinnë awoke to the light sunshine of dawn. Something seemed different, but she couldn't recall what. With a laugh, she remembered- it was her eighth birthday! With a huge grin on her face, she ran down the halls, shouting, "Mommy! Has anyone seen Finduilas, my Mommy? Mommy! Guess what day it is?!"

However, her mother's response was quite snappish and frustrated, not at all what Arinnë expected.

"We are supposed to be hiding, my daughter! For the past seven years and to this day, no one must know our identity," she said, slowly fading to happiness. "Just remember that. And happy birthday, my love."

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Arinnë?"

"Why do we have to keep ourselves secret?"

Finduilas sighed. The truth was far too unpleasant, she believed, for a youth's ears- and too unpleasant to ruin today's celebrations, although no great feast they were. Thus she made a story, a tale to satisfy the young girl's curiosity.

"Long ago, when you were but a babe, we lived in a great palace," the woman began softly. That was true enough.

"But I was always wishing to see the Hidden City that stories told of. It was said that if you went to the City on the night of a full moon, you were high enough to touch the stars and learn much from them, but you could only gain admittance to the City if you were a fair and noble-minded person. I decided that we should depart to search for the City, but there were other people also searching. These were bad people, who shouldn't be allowed inside the Great Gates, but we are far ahead of them in finding it. If they knew who we were, they would take us back to the palace so they found the City first- and we can't have that!"

"Oh." Arinnë said quietly, convinced of the tale's truth. She felt very sorry for shouting her mother's name now.

"Now now, don't feel sorry. Today we are happy, remember? It's your eighth birthday!"

Arinnë perked up immediately.

Laughing and playing, the two strode down the streets of the small mountain-hidden village on the Rohan-Gondor border. It was a crisp autumn day, but not too cold. Everything was perfect. The calm before the storm.

Soon after their version of a luncheon feast- a bit of pork and honey cakes- Arinnë spoke seriously again.

"Do you know what I really want for my birthday, Mommy?"

"What?" Finduilas replied with a warm smile.

"I want to learn to ride. Like all those horse-people over the border!"

"I suppose I can show you a bit..." Finduilas replied cautiously. She believed women should be able to learn the skills of men.

"But how shall we borrow horses?"

As it turned out, that question was easily answered. A trader from Rohan was visiting with two horses, not including his own, and two ponies. He was letting villagers take them on a small circle around the area to decide if they wished to purchase one. Now the trader was a kid and merry man, who understood immediately Arinnë's equestrian enthusiasm. He agreed to let the pair borrow a pony and horse, given they return them within two hours at most.

So Finduilas and her daughter set out riding. Paying thought to little but each other, they strayed quite a ways from the village. Unknown to them a group of Orcs fleeing Rohirrim charges had entered into Gondor, prepared to pillage any towns they could find. It was not long until with a zip, crossbow-fired arrows were coming through the air. Two impaled the larger horse's chest, and Granla- for that was the stallion's name- fell. A single arrow pierced the smaller Falesa's lower leg, about two inches below the knee. He fell, but did not die.

With a cry of despair Finduilas rose fro the body of her horse, prepared to make a final stand. The Orcs came out of the trees with horrible war-axes, crossbows, and crooked swords. Tossing Arinnë a dagger and drawing the longer sword (Finduilas was wise enough to always keep arms in case of an instance like this), she called out for Arinnë to run. But the young girl stood still, traumatized by these beasts of shadow. Her mother's voice became more frantic.

"Run! My love, you must run!" Finduilas cried desperately. But the warriors of Mordor knew no mercy. No man or woman escaped their grasp.

The crossbow was aimed. Ready to fire from the shadows. And an arrow whizzed towards Arinnë.

"No!" The Steward's wife screamed, launching herself forward to shield her daughter.

The black-tipped arrow entered her chest. She fell to her knees, but this woman was as a queen to the realm. Her spirit and her love was stronger than that. She raised the sword for a few final weak strikes, little more than small waves that couldn't ever pierce armor or flesh.

"Run... run..." barely more than a whisper now. She was so very tired. Finduilas licked the sweat on her lips.

Finally, some sense entered the madness of Arinnë's mind. She grabbed her mother and ran into the shadow of the trees, dagger a-thrust before her. That was an act of strength that would never have been possible before, but the blood of great ruling men ran in her veins. She was more than a mere girl.

Luckily enough, the group of Orcs was confused. Several believed their fellows had been killed by each other, not considering that a woman could fight. They were busy fighting amongst themselves and the pair escaped notice. But, less luckily, Finduilas had borne no armor. The arrow was deep into her bloody chest. It was beyond anyone, especially a young girl, to save her.

"Listen, my child, for I have kept much from you. There is little time now to tell it all. You are no peasant girl. Your father is Denethor, the Steward of the White City. Your brothers will be great men, as you will be a very great woman. Their names are Boromir and Faramir. Remember this well..." although barely more than a whisper, the Lady of Dol Amroth's voice was urgent. "The city was killing me in spirit. The riches, the fame, and the great threat close to the south. I needed to leave. So a year after you and Faramir were born, I faked a death of sickness and took you away with me... I do not regret it. But... what I do re- regret..." the voice grew more weak. Finduilas felt salty blood everywhere, even inside her mouth now. Knowing this was her only chance, she spoke faster. "I regret that we could never be a family again, that such... pe-petty things di-divided... divided us... We need unity, all of Men, all free peoples... W-we need t-to trust all. You will make that unity. My- my d-dau- my daughter."

And so it was that Finduilas passed into shadow at last. Lady of Dol Amroth, wife of the Steward, mother of two great men that shall always be remembered. And mother of another that I tell you of now, great also. But now the storm began in her mind, a great torrent that lasted years. Arinnë wept.

"It's all my fault! I told her we should go out! I didn't leave, nor take her with me! It's me! I'm a murderer."

These thoughts accompanied a scream of great anguish. Arinnë was so young, to suffer so much. The hurt. The blame. The desperate lies, the anger. Nothing mattered in this world! It was all just chaos! Thoughts raced in her mind, more than screams, dashing and hitting and breaking until nothing was left. Then came a kind of peace made of empty rage.

Arinnë stopped screaming. Stopped the flow of tears. If she was an outcast, a criminal, she may as well pillage the strange figure below her. Almost trance-like, without thinking since she no longer had a mind, she took Finduilas' sword and walked calmly into the wild.

She forgot all that she now learned. She forgot everything, in fact. Arinnë had nothing but to mindless in the shadows, ashes guided by a wind they could not see.

~•~•~•~•~

Falesa returned to the village. The trader saw him, struggling with a bloody leg at an awkward angle. That pony was extremely persevering! No longer angry at the villagers' supposed crookedness and trickery, he knew there had been an accident. The trader advised and convinced most families to flee the area.

The rest were impaled, murdered, and piled. The reek was overwhelming, until a fire reduced them to nothing, starting on an infant at the top.

More ashes, more ruin, more madness.

I don't believe anyone remembers the names.

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A/N

Woah... that was intense.

It's weird how much a bad day can improve your writing. I guess in that respect it's actually a good day. Funny how that works.

I appreciate any and all feedback, positive or negative, as long as it is constructive. Thank you so much for reading! I hope I'll actually finish this story ;)

Comment and share, see you next update! Signing out, Aewneth.