Finding Love in Imladris (Lord Elrond love story)

Chapter One: Reclaiming Erebor

Far over the Misty Mountain’s Cold

To dungeons deep, and caverns old

We must away, eve break a day

To seek the pale enchanted gold

            I have written this poem a thousand times before this. I do not know why I write this; perhaps it was because it was one of the things my Papa taught me. Before he passed away, my name is Jemini Veronica Fell. My father was Ragnor, Ragnor Fell. He died in an orc attack countless years ago. My mother left just after I was born, she left us for a man of her race, an Elf. We later found out she died on a voyage to Lake Town. My father and I lived in the mountains of Gondor. Our life was peaceful, and happy. My father was an assassin of Gondor. He taught me everything, how to shoot a bow, how to use a sword, and how to kill someone in silence. My first kill was terrible, but the more I killed the less I cared about who is was on the other side of the blade. Another thing my father taught me was not to feel, not to care and how to hide my true emotions. He would hit and whip me till I would not flinch, and when I stopped flinching when he did so, he told me I was one step closer to becoming an assassin of Middle Earth.  He would bark orders at me; he would make me work from sun rise to sunset. He was a cold heartless man, but he made me who I am.

            I sit and stare at the paper with the words written on it, I narrow my eyes. I am furious that I cannot understand why I keep writing this poem. I shake my head and get up from my set in my shack. I pace the old wooden floors, causing it to groan under my feet. I know there is more to this poem, I know because he told me. I grab my hair completely and utterly exasperated with this predicament. I walk back over to the table where I have discarded the poem and pick it up. I stare at the page, my eyes widen when I remember some more.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells

While hammer’s fell like ringing bells

In places deep, where dark things sleep

In hollow halls beneath the

            Beneath the what, I let out an annoyed sigh and let the paper flat back on the desk. I turn around take two steps forward and sit on the chest at the foot of my bed. I rake a scarred hand through my hair, and look at the mirror across from me. I see my long raven hair, my pale skin and deep colored lips. I see my eyes, they are a golden color, and the sun makes them look amber. My ears are not pointed even though I am half Elf, I still have the gift of eternal life. My raven curls are down to my waist, I grab the end of my hair and start to examine it, I notice every frayed split end. I see something that catches my attention. I let my hair fall into my lap, I realize it is a letter; I stand up and grab it from the ground. I look on the back and see my name on it, Jemini Veronica Fell. “Gandalf.” I say in an annoyed whisper. I walk over to my desk, sit down, grab the letter opener and cut it open with the flick of my wrist. “What have you gotten yourself into now?” I say as I open the letter, I hold it to the light and cross my legs.

“Jemini Fell,

I understand that you are rather confused as to why I have written you a letter. Well, I have convinced Thorin Oakensheild, to reclaim his homeland. I have come up with a company of fifteen people including myself. I thought it would be quite nice for an assassin to accompany us on our journey. I know you do not know what I am speaking of, as of now, but it will all make sense in time. I will understand if your answer is no, Smaug is very dangerous and many will die on this journey. I will be at your home at dawn tomorrow, please tell me your answer.

Gandalf

                Thorin Oakensheild? Where have I heard that name before? I set the letter down and lean back in my chair, I look out the window and try to figure out who Thorin Oakensheild is and what his homeland is. I get up and open the chest; I throw out some of the meaningless things inside that belonged to my Papa. I see a book and open it, I look through the contents of the book and I see Erebor. I look up, where have I heard that before? I skim through the page, my eyes widen, I throw the book across the room. I kick the chest, furious with Gandolf. IS HE MAD? I ask myself. I start to pace again, my hands in fists at my sides. I grab my throwing knife in my belt and throw it at the door; it is now stuck in the wood along with three other knives. I look out the window and see the sun is starting to come up.

I slam the chest shut and fall on it with all my weight; I rub my face with my hands. I see myself in the mirror; I see the anger in my eyes. This makes me more aggravated than I was before; I make my face a stone. I get up from the chest, and punch the mirror. Glass falls to the floor, once it has all fallen at feet. I turn my attention to the floor; the glass makes it look like stars have covered the wood. My hand feels wet, I look at it and I see crimson coming out of the wounds on my knuckles. I lift up my hand to examine it more thoroughly. The blood glides down my forearm and drips on the floor, I see the glass in my hand, I sigh and grab some tweezers and bandages from the chest. I close the chest once more and sit on it. I set my hand palm down and start to get the glass out of my hand, I furrow my brow as I focus on getting all the pieces of glass out. Once I am finished with that my wound starts to bleed more freely. I wrap the bandages around my hand and hear a knock at the door. “Come in.” I say bored, I look at my hand as I bandage it. The door opens I do not have to look up from what I am doing to know who it is. “You know that is madness correct?” I say, fastening the bandage on and looking at Gandalf and cock an eyebrow at him.

He frowns at me, “What is madness?” he grips his staff more tightly, he is caught off guard by my accusation.

“Do not play dumb with me Gandalf.” I say I stand up and face him, my feet shoulder width apart.

“You do not even know what I am going to say-“

“You were going to say you are going to reclaim Erebor, with the son of Thrain.”I say, turning my head to the side.

“How did you find out such things so quickly?” He asks lighting his pipe and sits on the armchair close to the door. He sets his hat on the end table next to it.

            I walk over to where I threw the book, I pick up the now destroyed book and flip to the page I found the information on. I hand it to him, he takes it. I see his eyebrows furrow and he looks at me confused. He hands me back the book, I take it and toss it on the desk. I then turn back towards him and lean on the desk with my hands across my chest. I raise an eyebrow at him, and then return to my stone face. “Where did you accommodate this book from?” he asks.

“It was my Papa’s.” I say, he nods in understanding.

“It was always hard to fool your father as well,” He says, “what say you about this journey?”

I sigh, “Where and when will I meet the others?” he smiles at me.

“The Shire,” He says, “Two days time.”

“Fine,” I say uninterested, “I will meet you there.”

“No,” He says holding his hand out, telling m to stop. “We will leave in the morning.”

“We?” I ask standing up straight, and bringing my arms back down to my sides.

“Yes,” He says, “we.”