Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ A Star Burns Brightly ❯ Chapter 1

[ A - All Readers ]

A star burns brightly, its light intertwining

with that of the moon and the fires and the glitter

of armor, worn by so many men, elves, standing

side to side, as the enemy waxes bitter.

An elf stands by his archers, his dark eyes

scanning what will soon be a field of death.

He feels what he knows everyone must

be feeling-the terror of a dying breath.

The battle cry from a lone enemy

sets one archer to firing. His leader

reprimands him, yet the elf feels

sympathy, his heart his current commander.

With the swift flight of one arrow, the

battle begins. The elf yells the order

to fire; all the elves fit arrows to bows,

firing into mass chaos and disorder.

Furious battle cries come but

dimly to his ears. The enemy has breached

the walls, and the defenses are crumbling.

He knows that his battalion has been reached.

The elf pulls out his swords, his face changing

into a mask of rage. The enemies before him

flee in terror, but do not get far. All are cut down

by him or others-until his sight grows suddenly dim.

A cry of terror-or of grief. His friend

of old is by him. “Rest in peace,”

he says, but the elf knows no rest or calm.

His thoughts are focused on the deceased.

A young female elf is by his side,

her light blonde hair falling across

her face. Her eyes are closed, her face in pain-

from his death or hers, he is at a loss.

He clasps her hand that fell near his,

and whispers while in tears,

“I'm sorry, love, I let you fall-

my pride my lifelong affair.”

A star burned brightly, its light intertwined

with that of the moon and the fires and the glitter

of armor, worn by so many men, elves, standing

side to side, as the enemy waxed bitter.

That star is out now, and the one

beside it-the two stars that were

close enough to be single. No other stars

can be seen now, as the clouds are so blurred.

Yet no stars were ever so close,

two lovers intertwined by fate.

No ceremony held for them

will ever open that everlasting gate.

Does pride enter those Halls made

by Mordo? Who knows

but for those who have entered-and they have

not returned to us, this knowledge to dispose.

The elvin prince of the woods

sits by his good friend's grave,

a tear in each eye to fall upon

these crypts interred in caves.

Supposing that the war ends,

the Walkers shall come back,

and make a pledge beside these tombs to forever

remember these two who died in the last attack.

And in the silence after the rites,

a voice echoes `cross the walls.

like silver bells and rivers clear,

it speaks to she who calls.

“I'm sorry, love-I wanted what

I thought would make me famed.

Your love for me I put aside

and now I am ashamed.

“I wish with all I am

that I could make you return.

But knowing that you cannot live

lacking me, I shall not take that turn.”

The sparkling diamonds in the crypt

returned his soul's words so sadly

that even the inanimate rocks did cry

and the spirits joined them gladly.

The ascension to Mordo's halls,

taken by these two Elvin lovers,

was taken in their elegant, graceful strides.

But it was too short for the truth to be uncovered.

The judgment that was passed

shattered even the earth with its arrival.

The Walkers, too, heard the tremors of shock,

and knew the elves had met their rivals.

“Only the woman shall pass. You,

he-elf, have let your pride be

your downfall. Therefore, your love

will be unrequited, and she will go free.”

No argument was given, for

both knew it was hopeless.

Arda and Mordo's Hall stood whole, yet

both knew this could very well become madness.

So now the elf wanders the earthen

trails, his eyes full of tears and anger.

The shadowy Elf-Woman watches him from

above, her tears the people below to stir.