Legolas & Saphie (original mc)

Return to Edoras

The throne room was filled with people. I guessed the entire village of Edoras had come to celebrate our victory. Eowyn gave a goblet of wine to the king in the silence of the hall, a ceremonious gesture. He raised his cup.

Everyone in the hall followed, standing to honour the king's speech.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country." He spoke with a noble warrant. "Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" We shouted. The entire room took a sip from their drink.

The festivities carried on as they would. Feasting, bonding and laughing. I was standing talking with Legolas. I was still feeling off, sick.

I spotted Gandalf walk into a room, away from the festivities. I decided to investigate - I needed some information from the wizard. He was all-knowing, after all.

"I'll be right back." I said to Legolas.

"Where are you going?" He spoke in Sindarin.

"Just to catch up with Gandalf." He looked at me, anxious.

"Okay, are you feeling alright, though?" I thought about his question.

"Actually, after I'm done, I'll probably just return to my room and go to bed." I said, looking around at the party around us.

"Okay, I'll find you later."

I smiled softly at him before taking off. Gandalf had walked into a room off the hallway; it looked like it was being used for storage. He was smoking a pipe, sitting down at a stool. He knew I would follow him somehow. He gestured to a stool in front of him, and I sat down.

"Legolas tells me you are unwell." He said.

"Yes," I crossed my legs and looked to the side. "I don't know what's happening to me, though."

"What are your symptoms?"

"Well, I've been throwing up occasionally. And my stomach feels a little... off. Like something's going on inside of me. What do you think this means?"

"I can guess." He looked troubled. "But for now, it's best just to wait for your condition to advance. It won't get much worse... hopefully."

"Helpful." I commented sarcastically. "Haldir brought information from Elrond regarding my being. He said that I must never wear the ring. He also said that something bad is likely to happen if and when the ring is destroyed." I grasped the gaze of the wizard. "You need to fill me in."

"Alright." He waited a moment, taking another puff of his pipe before speaking. "Atyr is what us few informed beings call your kind."

"I thought I was the only one of my kind?"

"You are. You are the only one of your kind, and likely will always be. You are the Child of Mordor, born in the fires and hidden from Sauron, as your life is the same as the ring."

"So, I'm not sixteen hundred years old."

"The ring was forged over forty eight hundred years ago."

"What?!" I stood. "I've been alive for four thousand eight hundred years? How do I have no memory of this?"

"Please, calm down. Let me explain." He held up his hands. I sat down after hesitation. "It took you almost two thousand years to wake up from your slumber, and when you finally did, you were talking in black speech. Your family took you in and taught you Sindarin and English." His face changed from informative to emotive; he was suddenly sad, a memory perhaps. "The night your family was slaughtered was a carefully planned out heist made by Sauron in an attempt to take you back. When he found out that there had been a child born of Mordor and the ring, he was determined to find you, with the mindset of a father who was willing to kill anyone in between him and his child."