*warning: spoilers for Veiled Stars (book one)*
There was a time when all Elle worried about was her next meal. Now, with shadows taking over Middle Earth, her worries revolve around surviving the next day.
When the Hope of Men has lost his own hope...
Elle stayed vigil through the long night, until the sun touched the treetops and the air began to warm. There was a thin mist across the forest floor, swirling with the faint breeze.
Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she shook her head, pushing herself to her feet. Biting back a groan, she stretched, gazing around.
The camp had come alive in exception to the hobbits' sleeping bodies, guarded by Boromir leaning against a nearby tree. Eowyn and Faramir had nodded off on each other's shoulders and Gimli was snoring, knocked out beside Pippin's foot.
Padding over to Boromir, Elle gazed over at the gathering group of elves. "So now we start home."
The man followed her gaze, his brown eyes turning wistful. "Home is Gondor. Once this war is over... then I'll really be able to go home."
"We've been on our toes for far too long, haven't we?" Elle sighed at his words. She'd dreamed of finding somewhere to truly call home since joining the fellowship. But things hadn't gone to plan.
The man nodded, glancing back over at her. "What about you, mellon?"
"Me?"
"Will you return with Aragorn to Gondor? Or will you travel elsewhere?"
She furrowed her brow, hesitating for a moment. She couldn't imagine a time when it could be safe enough for them to return to the White City-- they'd been on the run for long enough that the thought had never even entered her mind. "You seem to believe we'll make it all home."
Boromir's brows drew together. "You do not?"
"Theodred didn't."
He grimaced at that, pushing himself up carefully as not to wake the sleeping hobbits. "Elle, you always have hope. Theodred gave his life fighting for the land's freedom. You'll see that his sacrifice does not go in vain, I know that much."
Despite herself, Elle smiled, bumping against the man's shoulder affectionately. "I would go to Gondor. The Shire as well, one day."
He grinned. "Good taste."
"Well, my family would be there," she gazed at the hobbits, Gimli, and the sleeping couple. "I would go wherever you all went. I couldn't imagine anywhere else being home."
"You've come a long way since the beginning," he smiled.
"Haven't we all?"
The man nodded at that. "Fair enough."
"I have a feeling we're not going to be welcomed back to camp with open arms though," she grimaced, glancing back at the elves. "Despite our company."
"Your brother just might kill you."
"We're going to have to tell them," she mumbled, clenching her jaw. To Boromir's tilted brow, she swallowed. "About Mournedhel. Aragorn would want to know, Gandalf. King Thranduil... he didn't take Legolas's death well in the first place. I'm almost afraid of how he'll react."
"He knew though, right? About Mournedhel?"
She nodded, watching the elves thoughtfully. A bit of their conversation slipped back into her memory, then. "Legolas had a sister."
Boromir stared. "What?"
"Thranduil spoke of how Legolas would be in a better place. With his mother and... sister," she furrowed her brows. "His twin, he said. She died as an elfling."
"Did she also...?" He trailed off. But the meaning was obvious.
Elle nodded. "He said so. But it was her only side. Just... darkness."
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The thought of an elleth with the same dark side like Mournedhel made Elle shudder. If Sauron could of had them both on his side... She shook her head, trying to banish the thought.
Things wouldn't be so.
She was jolted out of her thoughts as Naurfaron came over, bow gripped loosely in his hands. "Once your friends are awakened, we are ready to depart."
She smiled, nodding. "Of course. I'll wake them."
The elf inclined his head.
"I'll get the hobbits," Boromir grunted, stretching back and forth. "If you'll get my brother. Last time I woke him up, he sleep punched me in the stomach.
Elle choked. "Sleep punched?"
The man's face turned upward. "That's what he claims."
Snorting, she shook her head, moving over to the sleeping couple. "Right. Sure." Leaning down to one knee, she shook Eowyn's shoulder gently-- the girl groaned, then started, sitting up.
"Something wrong?"
"Nothing, but we need to move," Elle nudged Faramir's foot with her boot. He came-to less gracefully, slipping sideways and falling on his face before waking with a grunt.
Eowyn snorted at the man, wiping sleep out of her eye. Smiling at Elle, she nodded. "We'll be ready."
Gimli was next. The dwarf was still snoring, curled up around his axe. Elle couldn't help but wonder if he ever went anywhere without it. Bathroom? Clearly not to bed.
Crouching, she poked the dwarf's face. He grunted something in dwarvish, turning his head.
This time, Elle shook his shoulder. "Gim, time to wake up."
"Nay, not yet."
Sighing, she lifted his axe, lugging it backward. Eru, it was heavy.
In a second, the dwarf was sitting up, drool in his beard and eyes wide. "Lassie! One doesn't touch a dwarf's axe! First rule of proper conduct!"
She dropped it a few feet away, panting. "Then get up. I don't have the strength to carry that thing much farther."
"I'm up, I'm up!"
With everyone being awake, Elle turned back to Naurfaron. He was watching the unfolding, bright green eyes amused. "Okay, we're ready."
The elf laughed. "Good."
"We better not be running," Gimli muttered, stumbling over to her side. "Last time was too much."
The elves started, one by one, into the trees. Elle only smiled at the dwarf, silently hoping that Naurfaron truly did know the way out. She was ready to leave the forest behind. To go home.
She eyed the giant mass of elves. This time, with an army.
One Sauron would grow to fear.
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Nine rings.
Finally, the orcs had retrieved all nine rings. From the battlefield, from the ashes. Sauron eyed the pieces laid out before him, smirking.
This was what he needed.
Mournedhel had yet to return with news of the Mirkwood rebels, but Sauron had cast that into the back of his mind. Since he'd reclaimed his throne in Mordor, he'd sent out groups in search of the fallen wraiths rings. None had survived the battle-- but that didn't worry him.
Placed one by one on the floor, he stood, raising his jaw. The Mouth stood by his throne, eyeing the rings with a look of distaste.
But he was a simple creature. He didn't understand.
Moving down the steps, Sauron paused. He allowed his form to change, into the one he'd taken on the battlefield. Flexing the hand that adorned his Ring, he clenched his fist.
"Of your souls, I reclaim. To bow before the Dark Lord until the end of ages. To serve under the One Ring until the shadows claim that land and the stars themselves flee the sky in terror." He raised his fist, the engravings on the Ring glowing.
"Rise, and fulfill your sentence. Nine rings of mortal men. Ringwraiths of Mordor cold. Of your souls, I reclaim!"
From the corner of his eye, he saw the Mouth tense. Shadows claimed the room-- the torches on the walls flickered and the flames left, racing down the wall and snaking across the floor. Each ring glowed fiery hot. The middle, the ring of the Witch-king burned the brightest.
The ghosts of the men came back in thin, pale forms. Bones showed through their tattered robes, teeth grinning and eyes soulless.
Then they took form, armor hardening and turning blacker than the night itself. Shrill, tormented screeches filled the air-- Sauron smirked, moving back to his throne and sitting back.
Nine forms stood before him.
They all fell to a knee, bowing their heads.
"Rise."
They did so. The Witch-king stepped forward, slits between his helm back and empty of anything living. He inclined his head. "My Lord Sauron. We are at your service."
"I want you to take to the skies," Sauron raised his jaw. "Find the camp of survivors. Report their whereabouts back to me."
Nimwig had taken too long, her time was up. Whether the elleth had failed or been taking captive, Sauron had banished her thought. She would come crawling back or she would fall by the side of the rebels.
"Yes, my lord," the Witch-king bowed his head lower, stepping back. The other wraiths followed his movement, bowing their heads and turning.
As the nine left, the shadows faded and the torches flickered back to life. The Mouth shifted nervously-- Sauron sneered.
Nine rings. Nine wraiths. Finally, he had control once more. Now, it was only time before they discovered the camp of rebels. Before he could rally his armies and march.
It was only time before he claimed what was his.
Middle-earth.
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Guess who's back?!
How are you all? This chapter was simpler, right? No pain, no suffering. I mean... yes, there is the Sauron part, but it could be worse. Right? Maybe? I'm actually not sure...
Moving on... it's practically the weekend! Does anyone here have any fun plans? Painting the town red? Throwing a party? Hiding from people in your room and eating popcorn?
Discussion starter: how do you think our little group will be accepted back at the camp? Good? Bad? What about Sauron? What in the world is that red-haired devil up to?
![Crownless » LotR [2]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/144901684-64-k474275.jpg)