Collection of One-Shots

》diminished

The city was desolate besides the patrols of orcs that wandered the streets, but these orcs were different than the ones that wandered the wild. On the side of their face bore a scar in the shape of a hand and their eyes, they were a haunting shade of green that matched the light that came from the citadel.

Word had said the missing texts she desired were here, within the library. And so foolishly, she ventured to the border of Mordor and into the cursed city. She fought against the Uruk that had hauled her into the great room of Minas Ithil, now called Minas Morgul. Her plan to retrieve some of Gondor's most precious artifacts from the now cursed city had been foiled and her weapons stripped away.

"Found this one sneaking around, boss," the Uruk announced before depositing her on the floor at a dark set of armored boots.

The figure turned and all she had to do was look up to have the breath stolen from her lungs. "Talion." His dark and twisted features had softened, the fiery glow that had overtaken the blue of his eyes subsided. The Ranger extended his hand and pulled her up to her own feet.

She could almost meet his gaze. He looked to be a shell of himself, from the young captain and ranger she had once known. "What has happened to you?" She asked of him, breathless.

The Uruk still stood awaiting his orders, though he seemed to know that something strange was happening. "Boss?" Talion raised his hand in the Uruk's direction. "Leave us," he commanded, and the scarred orc scurried away in silent obedience.

Talion took her hands, but his touch was that of ice. Something swelled in her chest that she had not felt since the announcement of his exile. "It has been an age," she breathed, unbelieving that chance had led her back to him.

The Ranger glanced back toward the Seeing Stone of Minas Ithil and saw the lasting struggle atop Barad-dûr. "Why are you here?" He questioned, turning his haunted gaze to her.

She did not answer. "I heard stories of a Gravewalker." She spoke as if she were divulging a deep and dark secret. "Fighting like a demon. Dressed as a Man."

His laugh was humorless and it frightened her. This was not the same man she had known before his exile. Mordor had changed him. "You've found him," he responded, raising his hand to his chest.

It was then that she saw the golden ring with a glowing red gem. She took his hand and looked over the fine craftsmanship, it was a ring that she had seen before, depicted in the histories of Gondor. "What is this?"

"Isildur's ring," Talion answered. The ring was the only thing that bound him to this world. The red gem pulsed. "Why did you come here?" he asked again, seeking the truth and not just excuses.

This time she answered. "I came to retrieve scrolls and books that record the history of Middle-Earth before they are destroyed." Minas Ithil had been the last stronghold of Men in Mordor, though now fallen into darkness. "Please," she supplicated, "tell me what has transpired since your exile."

And so he did. He told her of the Black Gate, of Ioreth and Dirhael, and of their murder in a ritualistic killing before his very eyes by the Black Hand. He spoke of his own death and what Celebrimbor had described as his banishment from death and finally the Ring-Maker's betrayal.

Hesitant, she reached forward and pulled at the neck of his tunic to reveal a thin pale scar. Talion caught her hand before she could pull it back. "I loved you," he said, suddenly. Seeing her face reminded him of fairer time. They had met in Minas Tirith when they were both young and foolish before he had met Ioreth. She drew in a sharp breath. "I know." It was a whisper.

"I loved Ioreth, too." He had been banished from Gondor and had taken her with him to serve his sentence out on the Black Gate. She knew she could not replace Ioreth, she wouldn't even try to do that.