Return to the North [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

The Little Trinket

Estelwen wasn't particularly known for her impulsiveness. While she was more impulsive and driven by emotion than either of her siblings, she usually kept herself under control. But seeing the horrified and tragic face of her friend Elfwine made her throw caution to the wind.

The screams and groans of dying men and women were all around her. She knew she couldn't save all of them. And anyways, she was on a mission. She would find Edeva's body and retrieve something, anything, to comfort Elfwine.

She began drawing closer to the actual battle lines. The shouts of men and screeching of goblins was so loud that her blood was pounding. She knew she wasn't cut out for a real battle. That's why she was always escorted when leaving base camp.

Estelwen drew her two knives and turned in circles as she snuck past her people and the enemy. Occasionally she would have to stab a goblin here and there, but she was managing well enough.

She felt so afraid, though. Every fiber of her being knew she was in real and immediate danger. She saw nothing but death all around her. Suddenly she felt a warm, sticky hand grip her ankle and she nearly screamed.

"Help," mumbled the dying man as he released her from his bloody grip.

Estelwen frowned and nearly stopped. But she could not. She had to find Edeva.

With every step forward she felt her legs turning to jelly. They threatened to collapse from under her, but her adrenaline kept her going. She prayed to Illuvatar with every breath that she would find Edeva.

When she did find her, she nearly got sick. The dead, unseeing eyes of her friend were wide open but her head was no longer attached to her body. Estelwen knelt down beside what remained of the lady's body and took from her pocket the necklace she had always held. A momento from her aunt, Eowyn. A white horse.

Estelwen shed a few tears before she stood. Pocketing the necklace, the daughter of Aragorn turned back.

And was met with a sword in her stomach. It didn't hurt right away. Instead all she could focus on was the hate filled amber eyes of a man in black armor. She looked down in shock at the sword sticking out of her body. It was black as well, black as night.

That's when the pain rushed in. She looked at the man in confusion as she felt the blood pooling in her mouth. He smiled.

"Don't worry, king's child." Halion smirked. "Your friends will soon join you."

Estelwen fell face forward as the man removed his dark sword with a flourish. She died with her face in the ground, unable to breathe and quickly bleeding out.

Halion smiled down at her lifeless body. He was looking forward to telling Tinneth about the woman's undignified end.

Suddenly his magic sensed something was coming. Something… dangerous. He looked up to see and hear two riders. Both were dark haired and grey eyed. One resembled the dead princess.

"No!" Eldarion screamed as he dismounted and took his sister's body in his own, cradling it. "No!"

Aderthon dismounted after him, but focused instead on the man before them. He readied his sword and adjusted his grip.

"You will die a painful death," Aderthon told him.

Halion laughed. "I doubt it. I'm more powerful than either of you."

Aderthon barred his teeth and swung his sword. The man blocked and retaliated with his own strike. Back and forth they went, Halion just slightly better than Aderthon. The black Numenorean had the advantage of freshness as he had not fought for most of the day. Aderthon on the other hand was tiring, and was driven by blind rage.