Part One.

Lani is a teenaged student in NZ. She saw LOTR in January and started writing in July of this year. She has already completed several chapters of this story, all of which will be published in Gateway Monthly over the coming months.

What if she had died after delivering Frodo safely to Rivendell? Lani takes us on a compelling journey into an alternative version of the adventures of the fellowship.....

THE LOSS OF THE EVENSTAR

“You cannot be serious.”

“I would not jest over such a matter, Princess Faith.”

“I can not believe such. I shall not believe such.”

“Princess, you must,” the messenger’s voice was pleading with me.

“You are surely jesting. I demand you to tell me that this is a jest!”

“I can not, Princess,” he was now stuttering.

“It can not be true,” I could hear my voice waver.

“Princess, I beseech you to come. Please!”

“It can not be true!” I spoke firmly with my quivering chin.

“Princess! Please!” I allowed myself to be led towards the Houses of Healing. I entered the room quickly and gasped at the sight of my sister, face deathly white and body still. I bit my lip as I ran to her bedside. My father turned his head away from my anxious face. I shook her shoulders desperately and cried out to her. When no reply came, I flung my head next to her and burst into frantic tears. I felt a hand placed to my back, lest it bring comfort to myself. It failed miserably. I clutched her waxen hand and begged for her to return, though I knew all cries would be made in vain. She was lifeless, lifeless and dead. And mourning filled my heart as I thought of the permanent loss. The Evenstar has left this world. And they would pay.

*

I know not how many hours I spent by her side, pleading with the harsh reality, nor how many tears I shed. I dropped her hand and winced at the thud as it hit the bedclothes. I wrapped my arms around my knees and bent my head. In one last hopeful moment I placed a finger to her pulse and wept bitterly at the stillness that responded to my touch. I weakly stood, leaning heavily against the bed. “Farewell Evenstar. Sleep in Peace. For I shall avenge your death. If it be the last deed I commit.” And with those final words, I turned and fled from the room, to the blackness outside, alike to the emotions of despair I held. For I shall take revenge for the death of the Evenstar. And they shall pay.

*

I woke groggily underneath the mocking sun, turning away from its jubilant light. I wondered why I was in my garden and the memories returned, each shard piercing my heart with a separate blade. I cast my head once more downwards and drearily approached the house. No joyful songs echoed the Valley of the Last Homely House; instead a smothering silence covered all. My footsteps echoed throughout the halls as I approached my chamber. I closed the door softly and gathered a midnight black dress from my closet. I pulled it over my head with unwilling regret. I removed all trace of jewellery that I held excluding a drop of amber on a simple golden chain. For that had been a gift…I clasped the bead tightly before dropping my hand to my side. I wandered back outside and sat clumsily onto a smoothened stone. With my sharp hearing, I could catch the sounds of grief scattered throughout the dell. I cast my head to the ground again and watched my tears drip from my darkened eyelashes towards the soil beneath me. Shuffles neared and I lifted my heavy head.

“Eat,” the elf ordered. I gave a feeble smile and held up one hand.

“No thank you Legolas.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“I could not eat anything at this present moment of time. Please do not force me to do so.”

“Then I shall not do so.” My friend sat next to me, dropping the apple.

“I…”

“Legolas, I am aware you shall attempt to speak words of comfort, yet I would prefer to hear none.”

“I understand.” I was completely drained of all energy and slumped forward. Silence fell over the valley once more. And though my closest friend was but a half metre from me, I felt as if I was to take on the entire Dark Army alone. Unaided.

*

I leaned against the engraved chair and attempted to focus my dry eyes onto my father and his council. The Ring of Doom, such a simple golden band, yet held the power to throw Middle-Earth under a reign of never-ending torment and torture. I presented it with a glance of horror and distaste, one that I felt for all rings of power, excluding those of the elves. The Ringwraiths with their rings…I flinched. I shall never hold the slightest feeling of pity for their twisted lives, not since they took my sister’s. I glared at the ring and resumed watching my father and the council proceed. The Lord Boromir stood and spoke concerning a vague history of the Ring. “And then the hobbit Frodo was cast down by a Morgul blade to be rescued by an Elven Princess of this land. She failed at the…”

I leapt to my feet, eyes blazing. I forcefully approached him so I was but an arms length from his face. “I suppose you were referring to the Elven Princess, Arwen, were you not?”

“Why yes…”

I threw a fierce punch at his lower jaw. “She failed not! The Ringbearer is at this council, as you can see for yourself. She failed not!” My fist made contact with his face and he flinched at the impact. “She failed not!” I spoke defiantly with a lone tear slipping from my cheek. I sent final daggers at the Lord then fled from the council. I would hear no more nonsense of the sort. She had failed not. I collapsed, head buried in my arms, my clothing absorbing the cold tears that fell from my eyes.

*

I had returned to the Council after a half-hour, in a change of clothing and I had washed my face. I avoided all eye contact yet saw with some content that a bruise was darkening on the Lord Boromir’s jaw. An argument was clearing up as I returned to my seat. The hobbit stood forward declaring that the ring would be his responsibility. Mithrandir voiced his position concerning the matter that he would accompany the Ringbearer. I stepped forward.

“I shall escort the Ringbearer to the Cracks of Doom and be prevented only from this task by death. For I shall take the place of my sister, whom did not fail yet rather appointed this position to her sister, I.” I laid my sword at Master Frodo’s feet. “My sword is at your command.” I sheathed it once more and impatiently brushed a tear away. I stood at the Hobbit’s side, standing firm and tall. Dare one to defy me. For at this present moment in time, I am not to be defied. As the Lord Boromir found out not thirty minutes past. Aragorn then pledged his sword and our red-rimmed eyes smiled dimly at each other. Legolas and a suspicious dwarf swore their weapons in as well. Three hobbits appear from nowhere startling the life out of my father. I hid my smile beneath my hand. And then Lord Boromir declared he would also come. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. I would not kill the Lord of the South, I would not kill the Lord of the South, I would not kill the Lord of…

“You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!” My father’s voice held a slight catch. Yet I chose to ignore such. Like another blatantly obvious point of my life.

*

I continued to clothe myself in black, as did Rivendell. It had not approached a week since the sombre incident of the Fords. The Fellowship was to leave the day next, yet after the council, silence regained control of the Elven City. Footsteps would echo through the quietened halls. I would spend the majority of my time remaining with my father, for I wished him not to die of grief, which was entirely possible. He made me promise that I should return. I told him bluntly that I must accompany the Company, and for other reasons than to ensure the destruction of the Ring. He smiled grimly at the stern glint that lay in my eye. “Yet kill yourself not.”

“If you shall kill yourself not.” I smiled gently at him. As there had been simply my sister in me descended from the Lord Elrond, I was nervous that he would commit unknowing suicide from the grief of loss of his first daughter.

“I shall send you letters whenever possible. I promise.”

“And I shall eagerly anticipate them.”

“Good.” I smiled, receiving a loving embrace from my father. “For I could not bear to lose both of my Stars.” A tear dripped onto my forehead. “We may have lost the Evenstar, yet you shall remember you still have me, that of the Morning.”

He smiled. “And for that I shall be grateful at least.” I squeezed his hand yet could not prevent a lone droplet slide down my face.

*

“Are you quite sure that you have everything necessary?”

I smiled. “Father, if you add much more to my pack, I will find it quite impossible to carry!”

He smiled back. “And do not forget to come back.”

“How can I?” I threw my hand up in one last wave and silently prayed to the Valar. Let him still remain when I return. I open my eyes and called out my farewell to the Elven Lord before turning onto my journey. My ears catch his reply and I toss my blonde braided hair back. Thankfully I had been permitted, as always, to dress in proper travelling clothes. There were to be no gowns until my return. At that I gave a true smile. Elves say I greatly resemble my mother, and I would agree. Yet only in appearance, for I differed too much to be much like her in heart. I looked back upon the Last Homely House and gave a sigh. I knew not when I should return. I clenched my jaw at the Fords, for I knew that I must pass through them, as my dying sister had, bearing before her the Ringbearer. It was with great difficulty that I concealed all feelings at the water. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I clenched my fist weakly. When we had finally crossed, moments seeming to be seconds, Aragorn looked back. I caught the same heartbreak and loss in his eye that I knew dwelt in my own. I dropped my head and remained silent, living in my own thoughts, for many a day until we reached the rock formation at the base of the mountain Caradhras.

***