*edited*
I have absolutely no idea how to put editors notes, I hope this works. Anywho, this is my first fanfic that I will hopefully be sticking to, any and all comments and tips are welcome! I am sorta writing this story as if pops into my brain so whatever most of the plot is a TBD situation, I have a few key scene and ending but the middle will come when it comes.
Please enjoy and let me know if you notice anything off (grammer and editing wise)
-Theonewhoseeslives
Flashes of red and orange pulsed above the water, melding into the deep blue of the ocean. The chill of the water went unnoticed in the cloud of blood that had formed. The red tendrils had pulled the body deeper into the blue. The man was not unconscious yet, he simply stared. His unwavering gaze etched with sorrow and grief was hidden by his hair temporarily as he sank. Everything was muted, not a sound penetrated the blue, and the young man was the only thing in the water for miles around. His plated armor was still strapped to him, his weapons lay sheathed, unused and covered, despite the battle raging above him. An arrow pierced his shoulder. He sighed, only bubbles escaping his mouth as his eyes fell closed. He continued to sink slowly, calm and expressionless, finally ignorant to the pain and suffering within him.
The water swirled around him, pushing him to and fro, turning and twisting him in a cruel dance. As if the water had decided to spare the poor mortal's life, it pushed him back towards the surface. He gently broke the tension, now far farther away from the battle faster than any earthbound spirit could travel by themselves. Unawake, but floating, the young man took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the sea before the water pulled him back down beneath its depths. Water swirled around him, occasionally dragging unsuspecting sea life into its wake. Still, the young man slept, peace caressing his features, the waves rocking him deep into slumber. The water pushed him faster than any mortal had gone before, at first dragging him deep into the ocean, where the blue waves became a black abyss, then a little higher up, where the teal and light blue reflections danced on the sun's beams.
He surfaced again many miles later, gasping. As if awaking from a sudden drop, his arms flailed, his hand reaching out to grasp anything near to him, but only catching air, disoriented. He was sinking again, the weight of his water-soaked clothes and armor tugging him back below the waves. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, his eyes stung in the murky water, his wounded shoulder throbbed.
Just as his eyes were closing again, fatigue burning through his mind, a wooden log bumped against his fingertips. He gripped it by his fist and slowly lifted himself back out of the water by his uninjured shoulder. He did not know where neither the log nor the strength to lift his arm back above the surface came from, but through the mind-numbing cold he thanked whatever spirit he could remember.
Finally able to breathe again, he spat out bitter water and inhaled the sweet air. Laying limp on the log he managed to rub his eyes on his exposed tunic, wiping them clear. He saw a distant shore drawing near and futilely tried to kick his legs, to pump himself forward. His legs felt as if iron chains resisted his every move and he gave up, resting a while on the log as they burned. Blinded the blackness of his closed eyes, he was reminded of the unknown dangers lurking, waiting in the water to ambush him as he was weakened.
Groaning, he feebly began to kick again, pushing himself through each torturous, straining paddle that tore through his thighs and calves. By the time his knees brushed against the sandy bank, he fell again, thoroughly unconscious.
Above the beach, on top of a hill, two cream horses stopped at the ridge, their riders looking down upon the beach. Wordlessly, the two riders began their descent, each pulling out their curved swords cautiously. As they reached the bottom of the mound only one dismounted, crouching as he approached the man's prone form.
"Návë coirëa ech?" With no response, the man switched to the Common Tongue. "Hey, were you alive?" He yelled slowly. As the man remained unresponsive, the rider tentatively began to approach, pausing as he neared.
"What's wrong? Go!" The rider's companion barked. The rider huffed, pulling off his helmet to reveal slender curved ears and long black tresses that overshadowed an elven face.
"I do not know if he was dead or alive! What if he is an enemy?" The elf exclaimed.
"What are you, a baby or a horse? Get him out of the water. Why do I have to do everything?" At the elf's hesitation, the rider quickly dismounted, passing the elf with a shove as he trudged into the water. .
"Watch it, your mother was a horse." The elf remarked in the Common Tongue, as they quickly pulled the man to shore, surveying his still form suspiciously
"We have the same mother, Elladan."
"Is he alive?" Elladan asked while his brother gently turned the body over.
"How would I know, pen-channas*? Now, shut up and help me get his armor off, he is wounded." The brothers began to unbuckle the man's plate armor, revealing his tunic and arrow wound.
"Go get the bandages."
"Elrohir, we still do not know if he is an enemy or not! Why should we help him?" Elladan crossed his arms as he sat back on his heels and watched Elrohir place his ear on the man's chest.
"Because, Elladan, he is alive. He is wounded, and he is lying on a beach that shows no indications of a fight. This means that…"
"He must have come from somewhere else." Elladan concluded slowly.
"And…."
"And if he has come from somewhere else, then he might be… then we must bring him to Lord Father." Elladan sprung back to the saddle pack, pulling out strips of bandages. They worked quickly and quietly, stripping him out of his wet clothes, cleaning and bandaging his wound. As Elladan lifted the man to a seat, the sand fell off the man's exposed back.
"Elrohir! Look!" Elrohir quickly moved around the wounded man. On the back of the man's torso, mixed in with old scars, was a black inked tattoo of a lidless eye. Both elves jumped back in horror.
"Elrohir, I knew we should have left him alone. I know that symbol as do you, we need to kill him!" Elladan grabbed his blade out from his sheath again. He rested it at the base of the man's throat, holding it quivering inches away, looking towards his brother. Elrohir stood there, glancing between the blade and the man. In this moment the man was ignorant of his fate, innocent, and docile.
"If he needed to be killed, we are not the ones who were allowed to make that decision. If he dies, it won't be by our hand." Elrohir gently pushed away Elladan's blade.
"What, why not? If he is a danger we must see to it, as rangers of these lands." Elladan's brow furrowed in anger, "If he lives and causes harm, it would be on our heads! Elrohir. I can not understand you, he does not deserve any pity."
"No! If you are so worried about blame, it will be on my head only, you could save yours for pretty human women and bad human poetry. We do not know anything about where he came from, we do not know how he got here, we only knew he had the mark of the Dark One and we have to let father know," Elrohir tied the cloak onto the man's form, lifting his body and beginning to gently lift him onto his horse.
"Elrohir!" Elladan gasped, alarmed, "You can not mean to bring him back to Imladris, bringing the mark of evil into Imladris!"
"Yes, that was exactly what I mean." Elrohir paused a moment before ripping a strip of the man's own dirty clothing and tying it across his eyes. "There, did that sedate your anxious twittering?" Elladan flushed and puffed, but before he could retort, Elrohir was already mounting and pushing his horse into an easy canter.
The two white steeds flew across the plains of Enedwaith and traveled a straight-shot to Imladris. When they crossed paths with other travelers, they made sure that the man was completely concealed. These meetings were few and far between but with the turn of the wind and the growing evil, the twins continued to take any and all precautions. The man stirred only a few times during this flight, but no drink nor medicine could pull him from his slumber. The speed of their mounts was unmatched. Within the week they had crossed into the borders of Imladris, they were let through unmolested and finally allowed themselves to slow down into a walk, carefully picking their way through the familiar cliffside. At dusk on the 5th day of their travels they saw the Last Homely House, and as they trotted into the courtyard, their ruffled father rushing out of the house.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of learning my two sons are flying through the countryside as if the very black shadow had eaten their breakfast in front of them?" He paused, arms outstretched, mid-hug with Elladan, as Elrohir pulled the unconscious man off of his panting steed.
"What had you two done! Come quickly," Their father rushed back into the house, his sons following.
"We did nothing-," Elladan started, "We found him like this-," Elrohir continued, "On a beach, he was wounded-," "We bandaged it, but-" Elladan did not finish Elrohir's sentence, as the two traded off in their explanation.
"But what. You wouldn't bring me a dead man if it wasn't important." Their father's long strides had the two brothers trotting to keep up. The other residents of Imladris let them pass, pale and aghast when they saw the ashen man in Elrohir's arms. The trio burst into the infirmary, rushing to a clean bed and gently placing the man down.
"He's not dead, he hasn't woken up since we found him, but-" Elrohir pushed back his frazzled mane.
"When did you find him?" Their father interrupted.
"Almost a week ago, where the Anduin meets the Sea, the very west side of the Enedwaith."
"You flew across the Enedwaith in a week's time. What could be so important about this human?" Their father began to undress the man, pulling off his shirt, acknowledging the scars on the man, nodding in approval at the twins' bandaging. As he was about to gently flip the man over, Elrohir grabbed his father's wrist. Nodding to Elladan, his twin quickly pulled the privacy curtains around them, the heavy linen fabric clacking on its wooden hoops.
"He had a mark." Elrohir grimaced.
"What mark?" Their father asked. At a loss for words Elrohir simply pushed the man over, revealing the dark eye tattooed into the man's scarred back. Their father sucked in his breath, flinching back. The three elves stood in silence around the man for a moment, the twins looking up at their father, waiting for his reaction as the older elf stared in horror at the man.
"And you brought him here?" His reply was cold, emotionless. Elladan nudged Elrohir.
"Yes Ada, it was entirely my decision, blame me for any harm he causes but he's important. His armor is adorned. His sword engraved, and we- I couldn't leave him for something else to find him." Elrohir took a breath, "The beach was completely void of conflict and Elladan and I had been traveling along the shore for a while before we saw him. There were no signs of any battle nearby, so we- I thought he might have been carried by the sea away from an enemy army. He might know something about the happenings to the east." He stopped on his last breath. Minutes stretched as their father stood, motionless.
"Very well, I will heal him. You two get refreshed, you stink of horse and sweat." Their father said dismissing them. Slightly defeated, the twins shuffled out, Elrohir sparing a glance back at the curtain that hid the wounded man. At a scathing look from one of the nurses, who was currently tending to a sick self, Elrohir made himself scarce.
The man gently moaned on the bed, startling the Elf Lord. The Lord quickly turned the man over again, propping his head up with a pillow as the man groaned. The man opened brown eyes so dark there was barely a difference between the man's iris and pupils, they flitted across the room as the man breathed. The elf Lord guided the man to sit, holding him up with one arm and another fed him water. The man drank hungrily, his arms shuddering in their weakness as he tried to hold himself up. The elf Lord did not let him fall, but set him down on his back.
"Who were you?" The elf Lord leaned over the man, obscuring his view.
"N-" The man divulged into a fit of coughing, pain contorting his face before he lay back down again, "Naniel, I am Naniel."
The world became hazy as Naniel's eyes swam with the sudden light. The blurry face of the man above him was speaking again, but Naniel could not understand what he was asking.
His mind was sluggish, his shoulders throbbed, his head throbbed, his body throbbed. It soon became impossible for him to focus on anything in the room around him. Soon he surrendered to the darkness. Finally oblivious to the world around him, Naniel feels as his body begins to heal.
Just because proper elvish is so hard to find I probably won't be using it much,
*pen-channas: lack-wit
First chapter done! I am currently trying to decide how the f*** to write the third chapter but I haven't given up yet!