Lone Ranger..., Look and find out silly peeps!

[Silvereye]

The Beginning...

“Meldamiriel!? Melda-Meldamiriel!!” The Elf captain screamed as he ran to his friend. “Elrond...I...knew you would f-find me.” whispered a young she-elf. Blood seeped from a gash over her cheekbone, her body bleeding from a sword through her chest. A spear covered in her blood lay a few inches from her hand.
“Meldamiriel! Please, let me take you back.” Elrond pleaded his friend. His brown hair fell around his face as he lifted her face into his arms. His pale features had wet lines where tears ran as a river.
“Elrond, I can not live. My injuries are too extensive. I can not survive the hour. Please, allow me rest.” Meldamiriel shuddered suddenly from blood-loss. Her blue eyes pierced his brown, seeming to search for any will to leave her there, dying slowly.
Elrond lay a cloak over her, oblivious to her request. Her normally sparkling blue eyes were becoming darker as dark night clouded her vision. “Elrond, do you remember when we went exploring that one time? And you fell down the hill and couldn't stop?” she asked, forcing her eyes to stay open. The captain smiled through his bitter tears.
“And you ran down after me, catching branches and vines and caught me halfway down. You grabbed my hand tightly and promised you'd never leave me.” he replied, holding her close. His breathing was ragged. “Please don't break that promise Meldamiriel.” he whispered in her pointed ear, stroking her blood filled black hair.
“Elrond...I am sorry....Ahh!” she screamed as the pain hit her again. He lay her down. She shoved a dead dwarf off her shattered body, holding back a scream of utter pain. She looked at him and produced a baby. An elf. She smiled painfully at her friend. “I would keep that promise...if only I could. If only I hadn't allowed myself to run for my child.”
“Meldamiriel, you must stay with me. What of your child? What of your promise to keep her closer then her father?” Elrond felt the tears seeping down his face. She raised her hand to silence his scared thoughts. He felt her hand touch his face, and he closed his eyes in comfort as she did so.
“Elrond, we have been friends since we were children. I have saved you many times. Now please repay that debt by saving my child. Please.” she said before another shudder shook her. The baby woke and cried like she knew what was going on.
“My friend,”-Elrond placed his hand on his heart and then on her own-”I will care for her as I would my own child. She shall be like you as much as I can make her.” The tears came harder and swifter from his eyes. He lifted the baby and held her to his breast.
“I know you will Elrond, I know...” Meldamiriel whispered. The field began to rage with victorious yells. The Elves and Men, the Dwarves even, called their victory to the now emerging sun. But some cries were of pain and anguish. Elrond felt his voice join those cries, the cries of those whose loved ones had died in the battle. His heart felt broken. His friend had faded away. The helmet of Sauron was nearby. He didn't even look. He held his friend close, heard the last whisper escape her lips.
“Elrond...” then her chest lay perfectly still.
“NOOO! No.” he cried, now crying into her jet black hair. Her child cried loudly above the rest, cold and tired and hungry. Elrond's gaze shifted to the child. Her eyes were blue as her mothers and her hair already black. She wasn't very plump for a baby. In fact, she was rather skinny. The she-elf in his arms was as well. He lay his friend down and picked the child up.
“Shh, I'll take care of you. Shh, I'm here.” he whispered. He didn't know what to do now. His friend, this child's mother, was dead. And he was to care for it. Images of what could go wrong whirled before his mind's eye. But then the baby giggled. He looked and it was playing with some loose strands of his hair. He smiled, a truly happy smile through the tears of anguish. The blue eyes of the baby were focused, just like her mothers. Her giggle sounded exactly the same too. She needed no help being like her mother. She was already her duplicate.
The baby soon quieted and he realized she had no name. Meldamiriel hadn't had time to name the child. “Your name will be Hûredhiel. Little Healthy One.” he whispered to her gently. He stood up and held the child to his chest. “My little daughter, my little Aafke.”
As Elrond passed men and woman alike, most bowed to him. Some clapped. But none of them seemed to notice his loss. His ragged breathing either.
“Let us celebrate this victory! Let us find peace and comfort for now, and forever!” His call rang out through the empty valley. All below cheered mightily. He held the child against his chest. She had fallen asleep but now she woke, and happily squealed. Everyone thought it was cute as Elrond smiled and stroked her small head back into sleep.

Elrond mounted his black stallion, Brego. The child was in his left arm as he sheathed his sword. He took the reins and heeled enough that the horse began to gallop. The child was quiet, already asleep. He sighed and then he began to slow slightly. He didn't want to drop the child. “To Rivendell!” he called and his Elves all followed him towards their city. He felt the tears again but wiped them away. He had a wife. He had a life. But how could he live without that bright face whose eyes had looked into his since he was a child? How could he not miss the bright laughter of that she-elf?

“I can't. But I can hear it again in her child.” he whispered. He held the baby closer and rode on. The grassy field beneath them gave way to sandy shores. Then to trees. They were scattered here and there before the forest parted to show the river that showed his boundaries. He sighed and galloped across.
“Only a little way now Hûredhiel.” he whispered and the baby woke. She squealed and he smiled, holding her closer in the bitter winter cold. She stopped almost abruptly.
He thundered across the clearings and through the forest until he found the city of Rivendell. Home. He dismounted and walked inside of his city. He walked up to his chambers and hugged his wife. “Meldamiriel ...” he whispered in her ear.
“I know my love.” his wife whispered back. She looked at the child he had laid on the bed. “Her child? What is her name?” she asked as she glided over to it. Elrond smiled sadly.

“Hûredhiel. Though, I get a feeling that like her mother she will go with her human name. Oh my darling, what are we to do with her?” he asked her gently. His wife looked surprised at him. “We raise her. We care for her as we would our own child.” she whispered. Elrond smiled. His wife's words comforted his fears. The wind blew in, gentle and warm. He seemed to hear Meldamiriel's voice on that breeze. Elrond, do not fear. She will grow tall and straight, and just like me. His wife seemed to hear them too for she smiled and whispered. “We know Mary.” she then wiped something from her eye and Elrond realized she too had been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot.
“Shh, my dear, she will live on in her child.” Elrond's voice sounded more sure then he was, but it bore the wisdom of the ages. His wife nodded and embraced him tightly.
“Elrond, I don't know. Maybe...I just don't know.” she whispered.

2,000 Years later...

Aafke smiled as she rode against the wind, her black hair whipping around her face. “Come on dad! Keep up!” she said as she jumped from the horses back and back-flipped before landing perfectly on the grass. He smiled at her. How long had it been since she had last seen him smile? Ever it seemed.
“Dad?” she asked as she slowed her horse and turned around. He had stopped, seeming to have to wipe away some tears. “You're not crying about mama are you?” she asked, biting her lip. The warm summer breeze blew a few strands of her black hair into her face and her father brushed them away.
“No Aafke darling, just...the months go by so fast when you're around to enjoy them with me.” he said as he held her delicate, narrow head in his palm. He smiled at her gently. She felt her cheeks get hot. She was blushing, again.
“Dad?”
“Yes my daughter?” he responded softly. Her eyes showed her feelings plain as day:Why was he crying? He seemed to get the message.
“Aafke, your mother was the most lively, best friend I could have ever wanted when I was a child. And through out her life.” he said softly. She was confused now.
“But, my mother was not...” he raised a hand to silence her.
“No Aafke, she was not your mother. Your mother died at the great battle, when Sauron was first destroyed. She was my childhood friend, and my wife's friend too.” he said sadly. He watched her face and knew how she felt. He had felt that way when he felt Meldamiriel die.

She felt sick. She had never known her mother and this news, this terrible, sick news that she had never known her washed over Aafke as she sat there in the saddle, her eyes brimmed with salty tears not yet fallen.
“She died trying to save you, your mother. When I found her , dying on the field, she left you in my care, this one month old baby, screaming like it knew it's mother was dead and that it would never really know her. I cried too, until I heard your mother's giggle and looked down. You were the one giggling, playing with a few loose strands of my hair. And I realized that you were my way to remember your mother. And you have grown to look just like her.” Elrond said softly. Aafke barely heard it as she breathed slowly. The tears were now falling silently down her pale face.
Elrond leaned over and held her face in his hand. He wiped the tears away with a gentle word of comfort. She wanted to just stay there in his arms. “The ring will return one day won't it father?” she asked abruptly, wiping her own tears away and urging Wind, her war horse, to move ahead of him. Elrond stayed back, knowing she was trying to keep her pride strong.
“Yes,” he answered softly. “It will return. And we have to be ready when it does. Otherwise your mother's death was an unneeded sacrifice, and one that we do not need to repeat with more of our kind.” he added softly. She turned her horse around to face him, tears lining her piercing blue eyes.
“Then we must begin preparations.” she said, more strongly then she felt. But there was a tone to her voice, one that said she would protect any that would bear the One Ring to the mountain. Little did she know that's what she would do in a thousand years...

Critics welcome, I'll post the next part before you can do anything!

[Lone_Wolf]

Wow...thats some story Silver! Well done!

[Silvereye]

It's still going too! I am having difficulties writing this week though. give me awhile and I'll have like six others up in two days. At least, a lot of parts of ones.

[Silvereye]

Still having issues.

[MoonStar]

This story is amazing,Silvereye! Keep up the good work!

[Silvereye]

While this is in the hold-ups, i had another idea for a story. Look around and find it...

[Silvereye]

Modern

Aafke pulled her hair back, and watched Arwen pass by, and then run into Aragorn's arms. She smiled ever so softly. Had it truly been 87 years since she delivered that boy into the world?
Her long hair was being uncooperative, and she ended up getting quite frustrated. It was Pippin who found her, trying to tie her hair back still, cursing in Ancient Elvish.
"In the Shire, the women braid their hair." he piped up when she glanced at him.
The Elf found this so simple that she smiled broadly, if not sadly.
"Young Master Took, I believe Frodo was looking for you earlier." she said softly, and he bolted off like a scared deer. Chuckling lightly, Aafke ended up braiding her hair neatly, then tying it off with a bit of hardened, but bendable wood.

The Council was to meet today, she knew. She was to attend. Glancing at the sun, she slipped out of her room and took a deep breathe. The Hobbits presence here had made Bilbo happy, she knew that much. And even Aragorn, or Strider as those Breefolk called him, seemed brighter when around the Hobbits.
She flowed like liquid onyx towards no where. Her bow was over her shoulder, and she found herself alone, wandering the halls she had wandered for 3,000 years.
Legolas bowed his head to her as he passed, and then continued a conversation with his father. She simply sighed and shivered. The recent Nazgul activity had made her blood run thin and cold. Her father believed it was due to her birth, being born during the Great War, she might be more sensitive to their presence.

She found herself on a bridge, one of so many she remembered sitting on with Arwen's mother, painting or talking in the sunlight so long ago. The one Aragorn's mother came into Rivendell on.
Arwen and Aragorn were lucky. They had a lover, they had a chance for a future. She had nothing left but the accompany the group with the Ring.
She looked at the four daggers at her hip, and her hand instinctively grabbed the most intricate one the study.
Yes, Ivory Death was carved of pure iron, and was deadly sharp. She ran her fingers down the blade, careful of the edges. Intricate, ancient designs of Elvish and Dwarfish symbols ran along the blade, words that repeated.
Her mother's dagger.
She was startled when Elrond lay his hand on her shoulder, and she nearly dropped the dagger.
"What is wrong Aafke?" her father asked, turning her around. Her bright blue eyes, she realized, were wet with tears.
For a long moment she didn't answer, and his patience showed itself as he waited silently, never pressuring her to answer him.
"I helped Aragorn's mom bring him into the world, I watched her die. And then Arwen falls in love with the man that should be like our younger brother. Ada, I have never loved anyone but you and mother, and Arwen. And him. All as family." she said turning away to hide the tears.

Aafke had a strict policy of never letting anyone, if she could avoid it, see her cry. And she cried often in these last thousand years. She found it difficult not to.

Did it! Ta da!