The Conqueress

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by *Euryale (01), Jul 23, 2010.

  1. WARNING : This story is very long. You may fall asleep. It is a fanfiction of Lord of the Rings. It is unfinished and will not be finish for I have quit writing it. Proceed reading if you have nothing better to do in your life


    Many wars happen in a lifetime, especially an Elf’s. But this story is not about wars. This story is about a certain Elf who had conquered many things besides wars: Love, death, pain, destiny, responsibility, and many other things. But what does it mean to conquer something? To defy it? To avoid it? To go through it? This Elf conquers by willingly going through things even though they know it could lead to death. Will is courage. This is the story of The Conqueress.

    The Great Battle

    A great battle was about to begin. The leader of the Elvin army strode forth on his horse. It was Legolas. His golden hair blew in the wind. His eyes were blue yet cold, for Sauron’s army of Orcs and Goblins stood before him. Every moment he was reminded that this was merely the first battle of a great war. This war meant much for the elves. They hoped to defeat Sauron.
    An Orc came forth. Legolas gritted his teeth. Before him stood a creature that was once an Elf but was consumed by Sauron’s darkness. It muttered something in the language of Mordor a spat at Legolas. Legolas grew angry and killed the Orc with his daggers. He returned to his army, then faced the army of Mordor. He heard the hating shouts and cries of the Orcs and Goblins. He raised the silver banner of the Elves and cried, ‘Entelyë! Undu caurë mornié! Ortalyë! Ortalyë, ohtatyari Quendi! Ehtëi yeva rincë, turmai yeva rácina! Macil aurë… Aira aurë… Ar I Anar ortas! Linnalyë sín… Linnalyë sín… Linnalyë! Linnalyë an túrë ar I Ambar ambaron! Qualmë!’ and they rode into battle.
    The battle was great and Legolas killed many. He drew his arrows. He unsheathed his daggers. After a few hours he spotted his best friend walking towards him. Legolas killed one more Orc with his daggers before he approached his friend.
    ‘Lendolin, my good friend, you know better than to approach me when I am near these brutes.’ Spoke Legolas to Lendolin.
    Lendolin and Legolas had been friends for many years. They met at the House of Elrond. They were both orphaned and Elrond gave them shelter. They were both small as children and wished to become great warriors. Now they were strong and tall men.
    ‘I am sorry Legolas but I needed to ask something. Who is that soldier?’ Lendolin’s forest green eyes were fixed on a great warrior. He was clothed in a uniform of many colors. On the front was a silver tree with golden leafs. He wore a great helm that was modest and mostly dull except for two golden flowers; one on each side of his head. The helm seemed to cover his eyes for nothing but his mouth could be seen. Yet, this person killed every Orc that came his way.
    Legolas became very interested in this warrior. One must be very brave not to wear armor in such a great battle. Yet, the uniform did not amaze him as much as the Elf’s skill with the blade. Not many Elves fought with a sword. Daggers and bows with arrows were used more often. Yet here was an Elf from Lothlorien – as shown by the symbols of his armor – hewing heads off Orcs and Goblins with such skill.
    ‘I do not know, but after the battle I would like to meet him,’ replied Legolas and they went back to fighting.
    The battle wore on for many hours and many grew tired except for the great Elvin warrior. Legolas always managed to steal a glance at the him. After one last glance, though, Legolas knew nothing would ever be the same.
    Legolas saw and Orc approach the warrior from behind. The creature grabbed his helm, attempting to break the warrior’s neck. But the Elf was too quick. He pulled away, his helm coming off, and he stabbed the Orc to death. What Legolas saw shocked him. The warrior’s eyes were revealed. They were blue, like Legolas’s, yet brighter and warmer and gentler, but still burning with wrath and hate. The Elf’s cheeks were rosy. The long hair, now released from its bonds, curled and flowed to the Elf’s shoulders. It was a dark shade of brown yet it glistened beautifully in the sunlight. Standing there, under the glistening sun, was Elanor Sun-Star. Legolas’s heart fell. He remembered the day they met. He was young and careless. He had not yet come of age then He had wandered into Elrond’s garden when he heard a sad tune, ‘Mornié utúlié, mornié, mornié.’ He followed the sound of the voice. He came to the center of the garden and saw an Elvin maiden wearing a silver, flowing gown.
    ‘Who, if I may ask, is the keeper of this beautiful voice?’ asked Legolas.
    ‘I am Elanor Sun-Star, adoptive child of Elrond. What is thy name?’ asked Elanor, smiling.
    ‘I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil and heir of Mirkwood,’ he said proudly. ‘If I may ask one more question, why does one so fair and loved sing of sadness and darkness?’
    ‘For those shall one day come,’ Elanor said with a sad smile.
    Could this warrior, one so strong and skillful, be the one he loved so dearly? More than ever did he watch her after this discovery. But she seemed all right so he continued to fight instead of approaching her.
    The battle continued and Elanor fought well. But something horrible happened.
    Elanor fought. Legolas turned to see Elanor, yet that was not what he saw, behind Elanor stood Sauron’s servant. He was known as Sauron’s Mouth. His mouth was the only thing that could be seen. His teeth were sharp, black, and rotting. The language he spoke was so evil that his lips cracked by merely speaking it. Once he was a Man, noble and kind, but consumed in the darkness of Sauron he no longer even remembered his own name.
    He set and arrow on his bow. All weapons used by Sauron's highest servants were forged in Mount Doom, the cruelest place in Middle Earth. For this very reason the arrow did not glisten in the sunlight. The Mouth drew his arrow, aimed, and fired.
    As Elanor fought, she did not realize the arrow headed straight for her. It moved at tremendous speed. She was about to bring down her sword upon an Orc when she screamed of sheer pain. The arrow went right through the left side of her waist. She screamed and fell. Legolas would have come for her but he could not move. He was shocked and stricken with sadness. All he could do was stare at her body, lying limp on the ground. Dead.
    Legolas turned to leave when in the corner of his eye he saw something amazing. The body of Elanor rose to her feet. She stumbled but then stood tall. Her wound bled horribly yet she continued to fight. Legolas’s heart rejoiced. Elanor did not die. He as well continued to battle.
    Nine beasts appeared in the sky. Upon them rode evil men. These were Nazgûl, Sauron's greatest servants. They screeched a cry unbearable to the Elves. The Nazgûl stroke fear into the army’s heart. They circled around the battle like vultures. But Legolas paid no mind to them. He turned to see Elanor. His heart broke.
    Elanor was on her knees, one hand on the ground, the other clutching the arrow in her waist. She breathed loud and heavily, hanging on to dear life. Time seemed to stop. Behind her in the distance, the Mouth of Sauron drew another arrow as one of the Nazgûl landed beside him. But it was not a Black Rider that dismounted. Legolas’s heart froze as he saw Sauron himself dismount. Sauron put his hand on his Mouth’s bow and lowered it. He slowly walked toward Elanor, who was now gasping for air. He stopped before her. Seeing the feet in front of her, clutching the arrow still, Elanor looked up. But she did not look up in fear; she wore a look of hatred. She painfully tried to grab her sword with her bloodstained hand, still on her knees. Sauron pulled back his hand and swung at her. Elanor was hit in the face and hit her head against the Black Gates of Mordor, falling unconscious. Legolas was furious and he started killing Orcs and Goblins, desperate to reach them.
    Sauron picked up Elanor and carried her to the Fell Beast. He muttered something to his Mouth and mounted, Elanor hanging in front of him on the creature’s neck. Then the Fell Beast made a horrid shriek and took off, heading towards Sauron’s dark tower in Mordor. The rest of the Nazgûl followed.
    “No!” cried Legolas. He tried to run after the Nazgul but Lendolin grabbed his arms and held him back. Legolas struggled, but then stopped. All seemed blurred. The world already seemed less bright. Time slowed in his mind. At that moment, he lost all hope of ever seeing Elanor again. He jerked away from Lendolin’s grasp. Legolas fell on his knees, buried his face in his hands, and wept, crying out to the one he loved. Elanor would not survive. None ever did.
    The battle went on for three more hours. But, for the rest of the battle, Legolas wept on his knees, Lendolin protecting him from attacking Orcs. Lendolin knew what had happened. He knew there was no hope.

    Hope & Sorrow

    Three hundred years had passed since the first battle. The elves lost the battle that day but many others were won. Ever since that day, Legolas fought for the soul of Elanor. He knew she was dead. None ever survived Mordor. He remembered her in every battle. She haunted his dreams every night. Legolas became stern. He had not even spoken to Lendolin since the battle. He wished to be left alone.
    When the army had returned, Elrond had received news of the tragedy. It had hit him hard, especially because he did not know Elanor even left to fight. He had forbidden her to go. He had loved her like a daughter.
    Exactly three hundred years since the battle, Elrond took a stroll. He walked to where the army had left Rivendell. Elrond imagined the army there but could not think of anyone who looked like Elanor. Was it possible she had returned from Lothlórien when the army set off without him knowing?
    He was remembering the day the army set off when in the distance someone stood. He could not believe his eyes. It was Elanor, looking as angelic as ever. She looked just as she did before the troubles of war had started.
    The only thing Elrond could utter was, “Elanor,” in a small whisper. The angelic figure collapsed all of a sudden without a sound. Elrond ran to her, yet what he saw was far from angelic. Elrond realized he had only seen what he wished to see. Here he saw what truly became of Elanor. She had her eyes closed and breathed heavily. She was pale and her once red lips were losing their color, now a pale pink. She had a long slit running from her brow, over her eyes to her chin. She wore a grey cloak, now torn and filled with twigs and leaves. Elrond took her cold hands. She seemed to be dead if it were not for her heavy breathing. Her right hand wore a brown leather glove. He lifted Elanor’s hand. Her sleeve slid down, revealing burns on her arm. Elrond could not bear this. It pained his heart to see this.
    “I must rest,” a weak voice came from Elanor. All she said was in the High Speech of the Elves. Not one word was in the Common Speech, unlike Elrond.
    There was a long pause. “I will carry you to your room,” replied Elrond, shocked.
    “I will go myself.” Elanor attempted to stand, but instantly collapsed.
    “What has happened?” asked Elrond, holding back tears; staring at the one he called his daughter. But she kept silent. Elanor never complained or asked for help; one of her few flaws. She turned on her right side to gasp for air. From her left shoulder, Elrond saw an arrow protruding. His eyes widened.
    “Elanor! Please! I must know what happened.” Those last words he whispered, clutching her cold glove tightly. This sight was too much to bear.
    “I ran,” Elanor said quietly and weakly after a long pause. “The Black Gates opened to release more of Sauron’s army. I ran to the Gates to escape. A guarding Orc saw me and tried to stop me. He tried to grab me but I slipped away. His claws left the mark on my face.” She stopped, as if she was in pain.
    “And the arrow?” Elrond looked at her poor face, eyes still closed.
    “I ran out of Mordor. About fifty Orcs chased me. One shot me in the shoulder with the arrow.” Her voice began to shake, “I ran for thirty days without stopping, Elrond.” She spoke weakly, helplessly.
    Elrond could not believe this. Elanor was stronger than he imagined. Yet he was extremely horrified to see her in this state. Only one thing was left unexplained: “What of the strange burns? They seem as if they were hands.”
    There was a long silence before she repeated, “I must rest.”
    Elrond carried Elanor into her room. It still looked bright and cheerful. Elrond didn’t want to believe she was dead, no matter how many years passed. He made sure her room stayed the same.
    He lowered her on the bed and sat beside her. She was shaking and breathing hard. Elanor’s eyes remained closed.

    Legolas was in the garden, swinging on a swaying bench. He was deep in thought when he quickly got up and went inside. He was walking extremely fast until he ran into someone.
    It was Olórë. She was the niece of Elrond. Olórë had short, light brown hair, with almond-shaped, hazel eyes. She was said to have the gift of interpreting dreams. She looked up at him saying, ‘And where are you off to in such a hurry?’
    Legolas stopped and quickly said, ‘I must speak with Elrond.’ When Olórë heard this she closed her eyes and lowered her head.
    ‘It is Elanor, is it not?’ she said softly, yet a razor was hidden in her voice.
    Legolas stiffened and nodded. No one spoke of Elanor since the army returned with the news. None wished to bring it up.
    ‘You speak of her in your dreams,’ she said sadly. ‘She was a great loss. So beautiful and wise she was.’ Olórë had always been jealous of Elanor. She loved Legolas but his heart belonged to Elanor, though Elanor’s heart did not belong to him.
    ‘He went into her room, with a guest I think,’ she answered his question.
    Legolas did not find this strange. Gandalf had visited many times after the army returned. Elrond had gone into her room many times, thinking of her.
    He came to Elanor's door and heard Elrond's voice. He turned the knob and walked in.

    ‘Elrond, I must speak with you about–‘ Legolas stopped, seeing the unbelievable. ‘Elanor,’ he said quietly, almost in a whisper.
    Elrond did not notice. He was on is knees beside her bed. He did not know what to do for she refused to be healed. He slowly turned around.
    ‘Legolas, my good lad, please talk some sense into her. She must be healed!’ he walked over to Legolas with a stern look and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Please,’ he said softly.
    Legolas was terribly confused about what was happening yet he did as he was told. He walked to her bed and kneeled saying, ‘Elanor, help us help you. You could die a painful death without our aid.’
    She turned her head towards him, eyes still closed. Her voice quiet and shaking with gasps, she said, ‘Nyërucin lá qualmë ar nwalya. Ilya Nyërucin ëa ana ná yèta nta ve lá poida.’
    Legolas was surprised she’d say this. She was everything but weak. She was the only creature of light to survive Mordor. She had endured great pain and had survived.
    ‘You are everything but weak, Elanor,’ he answered. There was a long pause.
    ‘Sini harnai nai lá firinai. Rombaw ana sérë,’ she croaked. She slowly sat up, and ripped the arrow out of her shoulder with a cry of pain. It bled but she lay down. Elrond and Legolas watched in horror as she shook, ‘Rombaw lúmë er.’
    There was a long pause before Elrond spoke, ‘Very well. Let us go Legolas,’ and they slowly walked out of the room.
    Elrond sat at a bench beside the door and buried his face in his hands. Legolas stood beside him with a sad look on his face.
    ‘How could I have let this happen?’ said Elrond softly, in pain. ‘Am I evil to think it is better if she had died?’
    Legolas sighed and said, ‘If so then I am evil as well. Perhaps if she had died, she would not suffer so.’ Elrond looked at Legolas with eyes ready to spill tears. He got up and quickly walked away. When he was out of sight, Legolas took one more glance at Elanor. She breathed heavily in her bed, eyes still closed.


    Many years had passed since Elanor’s unexpected return. The war had surprisingly ceased. Sauron sent no army for the last battle. Yet no one declared the winner. Sauron could always strike again.
    After a month since Elanor's return, she walked. It had been a surprise. Elrond was in his study when Olórë rushed in saying quickly that Elanor had disappeared. All of Rivendell was searching for her. She was found when Elrond went into his library. Through the giant window, Elrond saw her on the swinging bench in the garden.
    Elanor's burns had healed. The arrow’s damage was now only a scar. Her wound on her brow disappeared. Wounds of the body, you see, heal. But wounds of the mind and heart do not heal as quickly. Sometimes they do not heal at all. She had not been the same since her return. She seemed distant. None spoke to her, fearing what she’d say. She never came to meals. Her food was put in her room when she was in the garden, but she barely ever ate. Her face remained pale, her rosy cheeks never returning. Even her speech was different. She never spoke the common tongue after her return. She always spoke the High Speech yet she understood when others spoke to her in different languages, yet someone always had to translate.
    As for Legolas, with the war over he stayed in Rivendell. He was given the option to return to Mirkwood as heir, but he wished to be with Elanor.
    She would always go into the garden, on the bench, deep in thought. Occasionally she would disappear for a few days, even months sometimes but she always returned. Some thought she sometimes visited Lothlórien, others thought she simply lingered around Rivendell. Legolas would watch from a safe distance if she was in the garden. One day Legolas gathered enough courage to speak to her. He stopped halfway though, seeing her eyelashes quickly move upwards. She had opened her eyes. Legolas stiffened as she slowly turned her head to face him. His heart stopped. For the first time he had seen her greatest physical change: her eyes. The inside of her eyes was a cold, bright green. The edges were an eerie yellow. No white was there as normal eyes possessed. Her lips became a pale pink; her teeth seemed sharper as she slightly opened her mouth. All together Elanor possessed a strange beauty. A cruel beauty.
    Legolas gasped and slowly backed away. Elanor turned her head back and resumed her thinking, closing her eyes. Elrond would know Legolas approached her. He always knew. He always was in his library during the day. It had a nice view of the garden where he could see Elanor. Elrond feared for her every hour of the day. Who knew what she went through? Who knew what she thought about?
    Oh, but the nights. The cruel, dark nights. When the moon did not appear, as it does every month, it would be completely dark. But in that darkness you would hear moaning, gasping, and the occasional cry of pain. These signs of torment came from Elanor’s room. Normally she slept well, but on these dreadful nights she would be in pain screaming, ‘No!’ or ‘Never!’ and the occasional ‘Stop!’ or ‘Leave!’ in the High Speech.
    On these nights Elrond would sit in his study, which was beside Elanor’s room. He’d bury his face in his hands, feeling helpless and useless. He would try to hold back his tears. Elrond always failed to. What went on in her tortured mind?
    Yet none knew what was on the mind of poor Legolas. He loved Elanor and could not bear the sight. Yet on the moonless nights he’d sneak into her room, unnoticed. Legolas would sit in a corner and torture himself with her cries. He blamed himself for her pain.
    Over time, Elanor's cries never returned yet she still looked distant, never looking anyone in the eyes. She was changed. From a bright and cheery Elvin maid, to a pale and distant legend. Each time Legolas came upon her he thought, ‘How wise those eyes seem.’

    A Summon

    Many years passed since Elanor’s return, and many more years passed since her last moonless screaming. Her monthly cries had ceased yet all else remained the same.
    Elanor was in the garden again, thinking. What went on in that wise mind none ever knew. She was deep in thought when she unexpectedly screamed. She clutched her heart, gasping for air. Her abnormal eyes were full of fear, hatred, and pain. What was the matter? Besides how distant she was, she had always seemed all right. She looked up at the sky as she heard a horrid shriek. Elrond saw her from his window and ran after her.
    ‘Elanor, are you all right?’ asked Elrond urgently. She painfully nodded. Elrond knew better. Remembering the day she had returned, he said, ‘Come. I shall take you to your room.’ Elrond stood from his kneeling position, took her gloved hand, and walked Elanor to her room.
    They were near the entrance of Rivendell, in a corridor, when Elanor looked behind her. There she saw the fair Glorfindel come in, holding a Hobbit in his arms. Elrond left her to tend to the ill Halfling. The Hobbit was thin and – if possible – paler than Elanor, as if the life was drained out of him. She looked at him, bewildered. She caught a glimpse of the Sun’s glimmer reflect on something the Halfling wore on his neck. Elanor's eyes widened and she hurried into her room with the look as if she made a terrifying discovery.
    And where was Legolas at this time? Gandalf had arrived.

    Six days passed since the Halfling's appearance. Elanor was all right but she seemed troubled. She hadn’t left her room since. She locked herself in her bedroom, sitting on her bed all day. When Olórë brought food, knocking on the door, Elanor would call out, ‘Leave me be! I must think!’
    The sixth day since the arrival began with a knock. From the other side, Elanor could hear a voice calling, ‘Elanor? I wish to speak with you.’ Elanor recognized the voice to be Elrond’s.
    ‘Come in,’ she called back.
    He stepped inside, avoiding her poisonous green gaze. He sat beside her bed and sighed.
    ‘Elanor, I am having a council tomorrow. A very important one. I wish for you to come. It begins at tomorrow’s noon.’
    As always, Elanor's face was expressionless. But she nodded with closed eyes and said, ‘I will come.’
    Elrond answered with a stiff nod and left the room. They were so far away from each other. They had not even spoken as father and daughter since she left; even though she was adopted.
    After he left, Elanor resumed her thinking, but this time of something else. She paced as she whispered to herself, ‘What for? Why me?’ It truly was a mystery. Why the sudden council? Why ask her to come? It did not make sense. But so on she realized something. She paced faster and thought harder the rest of the day.

    The Council

    Noon came and the council bells rand. This was going to be an awesome council. Elves from all around came to represent their homes. Legolas was surprised to see his childhood friends from Mirkwood. Men from Gondor came as well. Dwarves surprisingly arrived too, including Gimli son of Gloin. And Elanor entered the room.
    Gimli caught the strange sight. Male Elves, Dwarves, and Humans, but only one maiden. Her beauty amazed him. Gimli was never so amazed by an Elf. Her strange eyes appeared as golden-lined emeralds to him. Her now long coal black hair reminded him of the great caves of Moria. Elanor's pale skin was like a light in the darkness to him. Then he caught a glimpse of it. Hanging from her neck was a beautiful pendant. He recognized it to be made of Mithril. A flower in the center joined to the wooden-looking outline by carved leaves. It was found on her when Elrond discovered her in Lothlórien.
    Gimli was curious indeed. He gathered his courage to ask Elrond who she was.
    ‘Elrond, who is that beautiful jewel?’ asked Gimli, broadening his shoulders.
    Elrond sighed, and quietly said, ‘That is Elanor. She is my adoptive daughter.’
    Gimli pondered this for a while, stroking his beard. At once his eyes widened.
    ‘Elanor? The Conqueress?’ he exclaimed with excitement. ‘She is well known everywhere! Very well known indeed. She is one of few Elves mentioned in our books of history. None have returned from Mordor alive… at least… not in the same form.’
    Elrond lowered his head and closed his eyes. ‘She is that well known?’ he sighed.
    ‘Oh yes. Not many Elves are recognized by name from the Dwarves. Believe me,’ answered Gimli.
    ‘Sometimes I wonder if she truly is in the same form,’ said Elrond with a sigh.
    ‘I do not know of that, but it must be a great honor being the father of a hero. You must be proud.’ And with that, Gimli walked away, taking his seat at the Council.
    Once all the guests settled in their seats, the Council began.
    ‘Fellow creatures of light, many years ago we have been torn apart in our friendship. However now, more than ever, we must join together against darkness to save Middle Earth. We have gathered to answer to the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. Together we will fight, or we will fall,’ said Elrond to the Council. ‘Frodo, bring forth the Ring.’
    With that, a Halfling sitting beside Gandalf stood. Elanor fixed her eyes on him. This was the Halfling she had seen seven days ago. Color returned to his face and his Elvin-like eyes showed fear of the unknown.
    As Frodo took out a chain from his neck, Elanor quickly sat up sternly, in shock. All were in awe as they saw a ring in Frodo’s hand. He set it before the Council on a pedestal.
    ‘This, friends, is the One Ring of Sauron. This is why the Council was called. It has resurfaced and, if something is not done, the fate of Middle Earth will be in total darkness.’
    ‘Why not send it to my father’s kingdom?’ a voice came from the Men. It belonged to Boromir son of Denethor. ‘My father, steward of Gondor, could protect the Ring or we could use it against Sauron if war is unleashed,’ he said. He had faith in his father’s kingdom. He was a tall, young man with brown hair. He stood proud.
    A cloaked figure in a corner said, ‘Pardon me Boromir, but I have been within the walls of Minas Tirith, as strong as it is, it cannot hold the power of Sauron, with or without the Ring.’
    Boromir was irritated by the stranger’s doubt. ‘Who are you to say Minas Tirith is weak for that is what it seems you are saying.’ A razor was hidden in his voice.
    ‘He has right to judge, Boromir son of Denethor,’ said Elanor in the Common Speech, surprising the Elves who knew her. She closed her eyes. After a short pause, she looking at Boromir, piercing his mind with her poisonous eyes. ‘He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, your king. You owe him your allegiance.’ Aragorn cast off his hood, revealing his face. He had silver eyes with a wise glare. His hair was black and to his shoulders. His short beard was rugged. In his travel-stained cloak, none would say he was king. Aragorn was amazed that she knew who he was.
    ‘This is our king? A ranger? No if this is Gondor’s king, Gondor needs no king, especially not a ranger.”
    Elanor grew impatient and recited a poem that amazed Aragorn that she knew, considering Bilbo Baggins had made it for him.

    ‘All that is gold does not glitter,
    Not all those who wander are lost;
    The old that is strong does not wither,
    Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
    From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
    A light from the shadows shall spring;
    Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
    The crownless again shall be king.’

    ‘Who may you be? How do you know?’
    ‘Hanyan limbë nati, Aragorn. Boromir!’ she yelled as she saw him reach for the Ring.
    Abruptly Gandalf stood and spoke. There was a sudden change. His voice became menacing, powerful, and harsh as stone. Darkness seemed to cover the hall. He spoke the engravings on the Ring, ‘Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul’
    Elrond felt pained but looked around as Gandalf spoke. Frodo laid his head in his right hand, breathing hard. On the other side he saw Elanor. She lay against her seat, her knuckles white from clutching the seat’s arms. She gritted her teeth, eyes closed. She shook, as if struggling. What Elrond did not see, was two quick glances, which belonged to Frodo and Elanor. In agony, they both looked at each other. The Elves closed their eyes. The Men and Dwarves were afraid. They did not know what was happening.
    ‘Gandalf! Cease!’ cried out Elrond. Gandalf only stopped when he finished. Immediately all in the hall relaxed. Elanor opened her eyes and breathed heavily, as if exhausted. Legolas, sitting beside her, looked at her with a worried expression and laid his hand on hers.
    ‘Never before had those words been spoken in Imladris. And speaking the Forbidden Language of Mordor!’ said Elrond sternly.
    ‘I do not beg for pardon,’ replied Gandalf returning to his seat, ‘For if something is not done, it will be spoken in every corner of Middle Earth.’
    ‘I have said my thoughts,’ resumed Boromir, insisting.
    ‘Boromir, you are a good and noble man,’ said Elanor kindly in the Common Tongue, ‘But do not let the Ring bring thee into darkness. Many souls have followed its ways and many have fallen.’ She turned her head, facing Gandalf. ‘Including Saruman. Am I correct Gandalf?’ Gandalf hid his eyes from her and nodded.
    ‘And who are you? I see many strangers here yet you seem to know much, perhaps even more than is good for you,’ asked Boromir.
    ‘She is Elanor Sun-Star,’ said Legolas, standing. ‘The one who has endured much.’ He smiled at her. ‘You shall respect her, or I will cut you to ribbons–’
    He was interrupted by Elanor shouting, ‘Havo dad, Legolas!’ and he returned to his seat.
    Boromir’s eyes widened, as well as the eyes of many others. ‘The Conqueress, please forgive me,’ he whispered. He bowed his head with respect. Elanor sighed as many of the nonElvish races stared with wonder.
    ‘Yes leave her be. As you have argued, I have thought. There is no way of keeping the Ring safe. It cannot be hidden in Middle Earth and it is not safe across the Great Sea. It must be destroyed.’
    ‘I do not see why it should be destroyed!’ said Erestor, an Elf. ‘The walls of Rivendell could easily protect the Ring.’
    Elrond smiled. ‘You put much faith in Rivendell but I doubt if Minas Tirith cannot hold back Sauron's power that Rivendell can.’
    Gimli took his axe and stood quickly, sliding off his seat. This could be a chance to show in front of the Conqueress how powerful he was.
    ‘Then let us destroy it now before it brings more evil!’ he exclaimed, lifting his axe.
    ‘Gimli lá!’ cried out Elanor, quickly standing, trying to stop him.
    He brought down the axe upon the Ring. Many things happened. Gimli’s axe broke, sending him falling on the ground. The Ring was unharmed. Frodo flew forward in his seat, gasping. However, one reaction caused the most attention. Elanor, without crying out or screaming, suddenly collapsed unconscious without a sound. Elrond, Legolas, and Gandalf immediately surrounded her. Legolas took her gloved hand and said, ‘Elanor? Are you all right?’
    She slowly opened her cruel eyes after a few minutes. Elanor sat up. She abruptly stood and ran off. They all stayed, confused. What just happened?
    Elanor ran to her room. She heard Elrond say, ‘The Council shall resume in three days.’
    She slammed and locked the door of her room. Elanor took the leather glove off her hand. With the other, she clutched her right hand tightly in pain, gasping. This cannot be happening.

    The Council had resumed after three days, as said. No one expected Elanor to come. She had stayed in her room the whole time, opening the door to no one, not even Gandalf, Elrond, or Legolas.
    The Council was seated immediately at noon once more. All from the previous meeting were there, except Elanor. All were quiet, feeling that the power of the Ring had caused this.
    Elrond was about to speak when an unexpected visitor came. It was Elanor. She walked to her seat quickly beside Legolas. Most eyes were on her. She looked towards Gandalf's direction, sensing his observing gaze. She just managed to see him turn his gaze away. Legolas laid his hand on hers, looking at her, worried. Elanor paid no mind and without sign of emotion, faced Elrond.
    He cleared his throat in the quiet room. ‘I think we have established that the Ring cannot be destroyed by any craft we here possess. It must be unmade where it was forged.’
    ‘In Mount Doom,’ finished Gandalf, gravely.
    Gimli stirred in his seat. ‘I do not understand–’ he began.
    ‘Pray tell what there is to understand?’ spoke Glorfindel. ‘It seems quite obvious what we are to do with the Ring and where. Surely a Dwarf could understand at least that,’ he mocked.
    ‘You should not speak of our race in such a way! Especially not my son!’ roared Gloin.
    ‘I knew Dwarves were quick in temper. I merely did not know they could lose what little wisdom they had when they lost it,” smiled Glorfindel.
    Abruptly the Dwarves and Elves stood, arguing. Elrond, Frodo, Gandalf, Elanor, and the Men remained seated. Aragon tried to silence the rebels but failed. The sitting guests were irritated. Was this not the very conflict they faced in their quest? Friendship was so rare in the time of darkness.
    ‘Silence!’ an amazingly loud voice cried. It echoed through the walls and startled the whole Council. The standing figures stood still and silent. The voice came from the irritated Elanor. ‘Cease your bickering! I am amazed the Ring had not been destroyed by your endless chatter! Throw yourselves into Mount Doom and save us our ears!’
    They sat back down, not scared but startled by the sudden outburst. She looked so gentle but her words and voice could pain one’s soul like a hundred swords to the heart.
    ‘Gimli, I kindly ask you,” she gave a poisonous look to Glorfindel who shrunk back in his seat, “What do you not understand?’
    Gimli smiled. Being treated so kindly by suck a respected Elf was an honor.
    ‘”Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
    Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
    Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,” Why not use those rings against Sauron?’
    It was Elrond who answered, ‘The rings of the Dwarves have been taken by Sauron. The Men’s belong to the Nazgûl. The One Ring rules them all. They are powerless against it.’
    Gimli was going to ask what had become of the three rings of the Elves but what Elanor did distracted him. She began rubbing her right-hand fingers with her left hand. Before he could ask his question, Elrond began speaking.
    ‘All we need now is to know who shall take the Ring on this perilous journey?’
    Argument would have started between the races, but all feared Elanor's gaze. None spoke.
    ‘I will. I will take the Ring to Mordor.’ It was a Hobbit who stepped forward, Frodo
    Elanor looked at him with interest. One so small had such great courage. She knew what lay behind the Black Gates. Had she not been the only one to survive Mordor?
    ‘You have my sword. I shall protect you till the end,’ said Aragorn.
    ‘And my staff. As long as it is your burden to bear, I shall come with you,’ spoke Gandalf.
    ‘And my axe,’ said Gimli proudly, looking at Elanor.
    ‘And you have my bow,’ spoke Legolas.
    ‘Make that two bows. If Legolas goes, I shall follow.’ Replied Lendolin, laying a hand on Legolas’ shoulder, smiling. He did not give up on their friendship for he knew Legolas’ pain.
    ‘I shall come too. You carry the fate of us all little one,’ added Boromir.
    After a pause another voice joined. ‘Ar ni,’ it said. It was Elanor, standing tall with a gentle voice. ‘Minë ve oica ve Frodo maurë ilya i varya rombaw’
    Abruptly Elrond stood. ‘No!’ he yelled, ‘I forbid you!’

    The Grey Havens

    The Council looked at Elrond with amazement of the sudden outburst. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
    ‘Seven is enough. Too many would not be wise,’ yet it was obvious there was another reason.
    Elanor noticed a glanced exchanged between Gandalf and Elrond. Her searching eyes also noticed a nod from Gandalf.
    ‘The Fellowship shall set off in twelve days. Elanor, come. I must speak with you.’ He stood. ‘The Council is dismissed,’ he said.
    The guests all went to their rooms to discuss the dealings of the Council. Elrond began to walk toward his library, motioning Elanor to follow. She obeyed. Fury was building in her chest. How dare he forbid her to come? She knew the most about what lay in Mordor. She could be a great help.
    Elrond sat in his chair in his library and motioned her to sit in a chair. She rebelliously stood still, glaring at him.
    He sighed and spoke, ‘I must speak with you. I know you are angry with me but I love you as my daughter and I wish for you to be safe. That is why I forbid you to go.’ He lowered his eyes.
    ‘And what do you expect me to do?’ she answered with worry. Her volume in her voice increased. She even spoke in the Common Speech. ‘Am I to stay here? Is my destiny to waste away without feeling that I have done my duty?’ she moved closer to him and sat down beside him, laying a hand on his. Her voice quieted as her gaze met his. ‘I do not wish to stay here any longer.’ She was nervous of his answer. Perhaps he would send her to Lothlórien as he had many times before, just like before the Great Battle. Or perhaps he knew she had left Rivendell many times over the past thousands of years?
    Elrond sighed and dared to keep looking into her eyes. ‘You are not staying here.’ His courage faded as he looked away, fearing the anger that would soon enter her eyes. He took a deep breath. ‘You are going to the Grey Havens, Elanor.’ The answer was unexpected.
    Elanor’s eyes became sad. She lowered her emerald eyes. All she said was a quiet, ‘Why?’
    Elrond was surprised. She usually had a quick temper. Calmly he continued, ‘You have endured much. But seeing you in this state has broken my heart.’
    ‘I am all right–‘
    ‘No you are not!’ he yelled. He saw the surprise in Elanor’s eyes from his yelling. ‘You are not,’ he said again, this time quieter. ‘You do not look as you did. You do not act as you did. Please for once do my bidding.’
    There was a deadly silence. Elanor was clearly debating with herself for her eyes moved back and forth, thinking. Slowly she looked at him. ‘When do I leave?’
    It took Elrond a while to answer. He had not expected her to agree so suddenly. Perhaps Mordor had also changed her rebellious spirit. ‘Tomorrow. The party leaves as the Sun rises.” She nodded and stood. Elrond embraced the one he loved as a daughter. Though she was changed he still loved her and wanted the best for her. Keeping her at Rivendell could be dangerous, considering how so many people knew about her.
    Elanor left the room.

    Dawn came the next day and the party was ready. Soon Elanor would be gone forever in the Undying Lands. Legolas was not told of her departure yet when Lendolin learned of it, he immediately told Legolas, knowing that his friend loved her so dearly. Legolas was somewhat happy of her departure. He knew she would finally find peace in her heart and mind.
    Only Elrond, Legolas, Lendolin, Gandalf, and Olórë were there to see her off. Elrond embraced her once more, for the last time. She then mounted her horse and, without looking back, followed the Elvin Party to the Undying Lands.
    She set off for the Grey Havens. Elanor Sun-Star never returned.

    That's not the end. On the contrary it's just the beginning but I quit writing it so... hope you didn't fall asleep
  2. That's all I'm going to post of this story. I quit writing it. Feedback here I don't care or let it die. I'm completely rewriting it so that it's not a copyright and it's publishable
  3. Why sad bump? o_O
  4. Tell me. What inspired you to do this?
  5. Out of curiosity where did you get the idea to use elves
  6. Okay, show of hands. Who actually read this entire thing just now?

    *cricket cricket*
  7. I read the whole thing awhile ago, when it was first posted months ago. It's very good, and I'm eager to read more of it soon. I'm glad you posted it again, Conq. You might want to put a feedback thread up.
  8. Is It really you Conq?
  9. "the Orcs went forth to **** and war, and Balrog captains marched before"

    J R R Tolkien - History of Middle Earth , vol III
  10. This is just a story I made. It was originally a fanfiction of LOTR but now I'm rewriting it in a publishable noncopyright way. This is feedback I'm not posting anymore. I'm not writing anymore
  11. I loved it
  12. sad bump :cry:
  13. Bump for the people who don't read it
  14. I luved it, it was awesome
  15.  2 THUMBS UP!!
  16. Gnomes > Elves 
  17. Actually mindy if you read lord of the rings the Elves are actually tall and fairest of folk
  18. 