Her mind was consumed by a suffocating darkness. It had crept into her consciousness with just one light touch, mingling with the memories of Gandalf's fall and the overwhelming sense of despair that followed. She couldn't distinguish between reality and the afterlife, her body numb and disconnected from her mind. But then, a glimmer of light appeared in the distance, beckoning her forward with a pull she couldn't resist.
As she stumbled towards the distant light, her heart pounded against her ribcage like a caged animal. And as she drew closer, the source of the light came into view - a towering black structure with a pulsing red light at its peak. Intense fear gripped her as she stood frozen in place, unable to tear her gaze away from Sauron's watchful eye fixed upon her.
"Kitra..." His voice echoed through her mind, lulling her into a false sense of calm. She forced herself to take a step back, resisting the urge to surrender to his hypnotic power. Suddenly, a door swung open at the base of the tower and three figures emerged, their black robes billowing behind them. Kitra recognized the elf from before, but this time he was accompanied by two other hooded figures whose faces were hidden in shadows. One figure stood taller than the others, exuding an aura of malice that sent shivers down Kitra's spine. Her curiosity piqued at the smaller figure whose presence seemed out of place among the dark and ominous beings. With trembling hands and a racing heart, Kitra waited for what would happen next in this nightmarish encounter with Sauron's minions.
The elf's voice was soft and gentle as he approached the trembling child.
"Do not fear me, young one. I mean you no harm," he said, his tone soothing but met with skepticism by the girl.
"Why should I believe you? You took everything from me. My parents are dead because of you," she scoffed, taking another step back from him.
With two swift strides, the elf closed the distance between them and stood before her. His hand reached up to brush a scar on her cheek with cold, bony fingers. Up close, she could see the true form of this supposed creature of beauty. His skin was pale and decaying, his features sunken in and dark circles under his eyes like endless pits. He was closer to death than any living being she had ever seen.
"Did I truly take everything from you?" he questioned, glancing over his shoulder. Her gaze followed his and she saw two faces that would be forever etched in her memory - her parents, white as snow with eyes red as blood, standing there with no recognition of their daughter.
Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision as she whispered in disbelief, "What have you done?" Her heart ached at the sight before her - her mother's face, alive and standing in front of her. She had thought she perished in the fire that destroyed their home, but there she stood, her expression blank and her once bright eyes now empty and staring into the void.
"I gave them what they were promised: eternal protection from the coming war," Sauron smiled, his words sending shivers down her spine. He began to walk behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Despite her attempts to pull away, his long fingernails dug into her skin, holding her in place. She felt no physical pain, only a numbing chill spreading through her body at his touch. She couldn't move or speak, her body frozen with no will of its own.
"Please...please let me go. I do not want this," she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Normally strong-willed and brave, the presence of this ancient being made her weak at the knees and want to hide away forever.
A low, menacing voice whispered in her ear, sending chills down her spine. "Don't worry," it said, "I cannot take you yet. This is but a dream." She felt a cool breath brush against her cheek and an icy hand wrap around hers.
Sauron's image flashed in her mind - his fiery eye glaring at her as she stood before him, the ring glinting in her hand. But there was something else too - Frodo lying on the ground with blood gushing from his abdomen. Her heart raced as she saw herself holding the ring, the source of all this destruction.
With a sudden burst of strength and determination, she tore herself away from Sauron's grasp, ripping her flesh from his sharp claws. The pain seared through her body and blood ran down her torso, but she refused to give in. She stared defiantly at the dark lord before her.
"I will not," she said firmly, finding a newfound confidence in her voice. Despite the fear and agony coursing through her, she stood tall and unwavering. "You will not harm me or my friends." In that moment, she knew that she had the power to resist Sauron's seductive promises and stand up against his evil forces.
With a dark chuckle, he leaned in closer to her face. His eyes, a fiery orange that seemed to burn with malice, pierced through her soul. She felt a deep ache in her core, a silent scream clawing at her throat. In a panic, she raised her hands and dug her nails into his face, the putrid flesh giving way like overcooked meat. The revolting sensation of his skin tearing under her fingernails made bile rise in her throat.
As he pressed closer, his lips curled into a sickening smile and she fought against him with all her might. But suddenly, an intense pain struck her chest, centered directly over her heart. Finally able to let out a sound, she unleashed a blood-curdling scream that shattered her vocal chords. Her body convulsed as she felt the scorching heat of burning flesh against her skin.
Her eyes snapped open to see one of her parents hovering over her, brandishing a red-hot iron against her chest. Through the pain and confusion, she could make out that it was the smaller of the two, and she could only assume that this wraith-like figure had once been her mother.
The young woman's pleading cries echoed through the dark tower, as she begged for her mother's help. But the wraith before her remained silent, pushing a cold metal object further into her skin. A desperate plea escaped her lips once more, hoping to reach her mother's spirit if it still lingered within the cursed tower.
Sauron, the dark lord, laughed cruelly at her pleas and released his grasp on her face. With nothing to support her, she crumpled to the ground, sobbing with fear and desperation. The sound of his laugh seemed to fill the entire tower, haunting her mind even as he retreated back into the shadows.
Alone and trembling with fear, she clutched her head in agony as she tried to block out his voice. But suddenly, a soft glow appeared before her, casting away the darkness just as quickly as he had taken hold of her. The light washed over her like a soothing balm, calming her panicked sobs and easing the burning sensation on her chest.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let herself relax. Maybe this was it - maybe she would finally find peace in death's embrace. But then, a gentle voice spoke in a language she couldn't understand but somehow felt familiar.
"Túl-o i mornië hinya. Tye are vamme er." [Come from the darkness, child. You are not alone.
Pain radiated through her entire body. Her head throbbed, her ribs ached with every breath, and her side felt like it was on fire. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt heavy and uncooperative. The thought of facing her surroundings filled her with fear, afraid that she would once again find herself in the dark depths of Mordor, at the mercy of Sauron.
Her reality had become a blur, with his illusions and mind games clouding her thoughts. But suddenly, a voice cut through the darkness - a familiar voice that brought a glimmer of hope to her battered soul.
"Welcome back, child." The comforting words washed over her like a warm embrace, pulling her out of her troubled thoughts. Slowly, she forced her eyes open and was met with soft, golden light filtering through the trees. She recognized this place - she was safe within the protective borders of Lothlorien, far from the grasp of Sauron.
"How long have I been unconscious?" She asked weakly, struggling to speak with her dry throat.
Galadriel gently brought a cup of cool water to the young woman's parched lips. "Not yet, my dear. You still have a few days to heal," she said, her voice filled with concern. The company was worried about their comrade and had been keeping a close eye on her during her recovery. Despite this, Galadriel reassured the girl that she was free to move around, though she must take it easy as she was not fully healed.
"Thank you," the girl murmured, slowly sitting up and feeling a tug in her side where her wound was still healing. She looked down at her bare torso, bandages tightly wrapped around her midsection. With utmost care, she began to unravel the fabric, revealing the new scar on her right side just below her ribs. She knew she had been lucky; any lower and she would have been rendered barren.
A sense of sorrow tinged Galadriel's voice as she spoke, her words carrying a hint of sadness. "Consider it a parting gift," she said, before turning to tend to the girl's wounds. Fresh bandages and ointment were procured from a nearby bowl, their scents filling the air and bringing comfort to the injured girl.
"I will miss you dearly," the elf queen continued, her hands deftly working on the girl's injuries. "You have seen me through many trials. I owe my life to you."
Galadriel's touch was gentle but sure as she cleaned and dressed the wounds, her skilled fingers soothing any lingering pain. "Though I have healed your body, you possess the strength to heal your mind as well. You are far more resilient than you realize, my child." Finished with her task, she sat by the girl's side and placed the supplies within reach. The wound was now hidden under fresh bandages, concealing its angry redness beneath layers of cloth.
After finishing her morning routine, she carefully selected two dresses from her wardrobe. The first was a heavy, white fabric that covered her from head to toe, giving off an air of modesty and grace. The second was a sheer, delicate material with billowing sleeves that flowed like water when she moved. The fabrics were both soft and luxurious against her skin.
Once she had wriggled into the dresses with some help from her lady-in-waiting, the elf queen gently brushed out her long, golden hair before leading her towards her companions. The forest was eerily silent except for the faint sound of elvish laments echoing through the trees. It was a constant reminder of their recent loss - Gandalf's death. Though she had pushed it from her mind upon waking, the weight of grief now settled heavily on her shoulders. Gandalf - a man she had respected and looked up to as a father figure for most of her life - was gone. A few tears threatened to spill from her eyes at the thought, but she fought them back. There was no time for mourning now; they had a mission to complete in his honor.
The journey to the clearing where her friends were staying was long and winding, with steep inclines that left her breathless. She finally arrived at the edge of the clearing, her hand pressed against her side as she caught her breath. Her eyes scanned the scene before her - Merry and Pippin were in a heated argument, their voices carrying loudly through the air. The elf queen stood by their side, a calm presence amidst the chaos.
Merry and Pippin ran around the clearing, their arms flailing as they argued over something one of them had grabbed from the other. Boromir sat nearby, puffing on his pipe while Gimli joined him, the two deep in conversation. Frodo and Sam sat next to Alana, who diligently sharpened their swords for them. Legolas could be seen in the distance, carefully polishing his bow with expert precision. Aragorn sat off on his own, leaning against a tree with a small smile tugging at his lips. But it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I will talk more with you later. Come to the mirror tonight." She nodded in acknowledgment and slowly made her way into the clearing.
Suddenly, Pippin's loud yell interrupted her thoughts and she turned to see Merry tackling him to the ground. Pippin held onto a small pouch tightly while Merry attempted to pry it from his grasp. She couldn't help but laugh at their comical display, drawing the attention of everyone in the clearing. Their faces lit up with joy as they saw her, and she returned their smiles with one of her own.
Kitra slowly made her way into the clearing, her wounds still tender and healing beneath the fresh bandages. The sound of her soft footsteps drew the attention of her companions, who turned to face her with expressions of both relief and concern.
Pippin and Merry paused their playful tussle, the pouch momentarily forgotten as they scrambled to their feet. "Kitra, you're awake!" Pippin exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin. Merry nudged him with an elbow, a hint of worry in his eyes as he took in Kitra's bandaged torso.
Boromir and Gimli ceased their conversation, their gazes settling on the young woman. Boromir's brow furrowed with concern, while Gimli offered a gruff nod of acknowledgement, his eyes shining with a mix of respect and sympathy.
Frodo and Sam looked up from their swords, their expressions a mix of relief and sadness. They knew all too well the toll the quest was taking on everyone, both physically and emotionally. Alana set aside the sharpening stone and rose to her feet, a gentle smile on her face as she approached Kitra.
"Don't you ever do that to me again, Kitra Flameborn! You scared me half to death." Alana's voice rose, sharp and scolding.
"I love it when you use my full name like that. Say it again," she teased, glancing at Aragorn, who was waiting for his turn.
Alana let out a low, rumbling chuckle, her lips twitching with amusement as she tried to suppress a smile. "You're such an idiot," she playfully scolded Kitra, before pulling her cousin into a tight bear hug. Kitra whispered an apology into Alana's wild, curly hair, the warmth of their embrace enveloping them both.
As they stood together, the pressure of Alana's arms against her body became uncomfortable for Kitra, the bandages wrapped tightly around her wound making her flinch.
Legolas finished tending to his bow and gracefully made his way over to join the group. His keen elven eyes took in Kitra's condition with a critical gaze, assessing her wounds with precision and care. "You should be resting," he gently admonished, though his tone held no hint of reproach.
Aragorn, who had been observing the scene unfold from his spot against a nearby tree, pushed himself up and strode over to Kitra. His eyes held a mixture of relief and concern as he looked her over, taking note of the bandages peeking out from beneath her dress. He reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder in a gesture of comfort and support.
"Where are my things?" She asked, her voice echoing through the empty room. Without a word, he stood and walked to where he had been sitting, his footsteps heavy against the stone floor.
"I had them mend your tattered clothes and sharpen your weapons," he told her, handing her the now cleaned cloak. She wrapped it around her shoulders, feeling its warmth seep into her bones. A sense of unease settled in her stomach, but she couldn't tell if it was from the chill in the air or from the memories that flooded her mind.
"Can we go somewhere private?" She whispered, images of her nightmare flashing before her eyes. Without a word, he took her hand and led her through the forest.