I don't anything of the Tolkien universe. All characters and names belong to the magnificent, J.R.R. Tolkien. This is set before the events of the Hobbit, and closely after the Battle of Dagorlad.
Prologue
Flames and whispers of soot blackened the air of my the fallen village.
Bodies were strewn across the earthy soil like leaves at the end of autumn, and just as abundant.
Piercing screeches of wicked glee combined with lamenting wails of pain deafened my ears.
The smell of death and smoke clouded all my senses, save one.
I ran my fingers through my mother’s gossamer hair, savouring how it caressed the sensitive tips of my fingers. The strands fell through the cracks like water down a gorge. Her eyes held no gleam of emotion, only fog.
My trembling hand closed her velvety eyelids with gentle care, as if the harshest touch would perturb her spirit. My hand reached for my father’s, who lay still next to my mother. His once firm, iron grip was limp in mine, his strength sucked by death.
A great weight descended upon me, as if the burden of the earth rested on my shoulders. A tremorous wail, consumed with soul shattering grief and paralyzing pain echoed through the village. My hand slapped itself over my quivering lips once I realized that the pitiful sound was my own lament.
“Nana? Ada?” My voice was not my own. “Avo ’wanno na nîn nef er.” Gone was the lighthearted fluidity of my silken tongue. My speech was feeble, broken, hoarse with the strain of battle cries and shrieks of war.
My child-like pleas received no response from the two corpses. With a shuddering sob, I rested my head on my mother’s deflated belly. I felt the pain invade every nerve in my body. I felt the agonizing reality that I would spend the rest of my immortal life without the ones who gave it to me. I felt the warmness fade from their decaying skin, and the coldness creep into their flesh. I felt everything, every little hurt and emotion of their deaths.
I was consumed by my pain, the choking sobs and the drowning tears. I was numb to everything but agony. My mind did not register the soft coos of comfort and the gentle, but firm hand of my comforter.
White-blonde hair draped over my tear streaked face as the ellon grasped my arm and tenderly tugged me away from my parents’ dead bodies.
“Tolo ar nin, Naomi,” the voice commanded softly. I shook my head violently. The ellon’s hands pulled me away and enveloped my smaller frame.
“Ú!” I screamed, clawing, and thrashing. “Ú! Nana! Ada!” My screams and cries faded as the ellon pulled me to his armored chest, and buried my tear-stained face in his silken hair.
“Av-'osto, titta mine. Tolo.” My sobs ceased as complete and utter numbness washed over my crippled soul. I regained control over my body, my countenance, my voice, and my fingertips. I nodded silently as I lifted my head to meet the sublime gaze of frostbite and fire of King Thranduil.
Sindarin Translations
Avo ’wanno na nîn nef er - Don’t leave me here alone
Tolo ar nin, Naomi - Come with me, Naomi
Ú! - No
Av-'osto, titta mine. Tolo. - Do not be afraid, little one. Come.
Nana - Mother
Ada - Father