Life #5000
"Sakura!" Naruto's voice echoed through the trees, far louder than she would have liked, and silently, she cursed the loudness of her companion. It was a gentle curse, if there were such a thing, because even her bubbly blonde friend's somewhat irritating temperament couldn't erase the sheer joy she felt at him being there with her in that cycle. She wished it would last forever, but she was no closer to binding either of them to the fate of Arda.
She shook her head, sighing then. "It's Lothien here, just as you're Anorion," she reminded him. "We can hardly explain where Sakura and Naruto come from, can we? Lest we be mistaken for having gone mad."
Naruto tilted his head then, long blonde locks shifting then. "Y'know, sometimes you sound real smart and wise, Sak"—Sakura glared at him pointedly—"Lothien. Sorry – I'll remember, I swear."
Sakura only snorted. "Sure you will." Naruto had a brain like a sieve when it came to what he considered to be unimportant, and she had no doubts this qualified as such.
"Sometimes, I swear she could be mistaken for an elf," Elentir chimed in then, alerting the both of them to his presence there. "Save only for the ears, my friend," he said, chuckling then, and Sakura laughed along with him. If only he knew... if only... "Though I must say the both of you get along marvellously, considering you were only introduced some weeks ago." Sakura blinked at the reminder of time passed. Truly, it felt like they hadn't been apart long, what with her four-thousandth and nine-hundred and ninety nineth lifetime having been in the Elemental Nations. But this Naruto was different. He was a reincarnate, and he was seemingly travelling down the same path as she. "Should I be expecting an announcement at the end of this expedition, old friend?"
Sakura blinked at the thought, taking a moment to consider it properly. Truly, the idea wasn't as horrifying as it had been in her first life. She had sometimes partnered up with Naruto in previous cycles, on the odd occasion where she had felt like starting a family which had grown rarer and rarer as cycles passed. As those she loved became more akin to children in her eyes.
Red stained Naruto's cheeks, and Sakura only chuckled. He was far younger than she and hadn't learnt to temper his reactions. So no one could use them against her. Nor had he been subjected to Danzo's idealisation of what a shinobi should be. Silently, she prayed he never had to. Though she swore in the next cycle she met Danzo, she would beat him to a bloody pulp before he could even lay eyes on her previous teammate. "No! It's nothing like that, I swear! We're just friends..."
"What he says is true, Elentir," she said, deciding to spare Naruto the misery. "Stop teasing, old friend, unless you wish for me to tell the tale of when you tripped over thin air and planted your face straight—"
"I give!" Elentir said hurriedly, cheeks pinkening at the reminder of one of his many embarrassing moments Sakura had been privy to. "Come now, dear friend of mine, surely you know better than to slander my image with these horrid tales. I do have a reputation to keep, what with our business, travelling north to the Icy Pass as we are..."
"I do not believe that to be our destination's true name," Sakura intoned, raising an eyebrow at him. "The elves have a different name for it—"
Elentir frowned. "It is a close enough translation," he said, shrugging somewhat under her unamused gaze. "Besides, unlike any other name, the Icy Pass tells us exactly what to expect. Sometimes you really do astonish me with the amount of lore you know of... Truly you are wise and more learned beyond your years, and I am blessed to have you both on this travel, and as a dear friend."
"And I see, or hear more aptly, that you still have that silvery tongue of yours," Sakura remarked. "Tell me again, how many ladies have you ensnared with those sweet words of yours?"
"Surely you jest," Elentir said, a sardonic smile on his lips. "Ensnaring them would be quite the feat. I merely talk with them, as is expected of one of my station."
"Let us not forget all the dancing," she said, musing over the last event which had ended up with them dancing together – if only to fend off all the eligible ladies who were so very eager to make acquaintances with her dear friend, what with his position in the king's forces.
"Please do not remind me," Elentir murmured with a wince, telling of his exhausting experiences. "My mother does so enough. It seems I am 'getting on in my years', and mother is all too eager to see me wed."
"Well, I am fairly certain I can see some grey hairs on your head. Perhaps you ought to take her advice?" Sakura inclined her head, a smile playing on her lips as she remembered meeting with the older woman. It was... memorable, to say the least.
Elentir grimaced. "Sometimes, friend, I feel as thought I ought never to have introduced you to my mother," he said bluntly, and Sakura only laughed. "And you should take care of what you say – I would have you know I do not have any grey hairs as of yet, and hopefully not for a long while."
"You deserve to be happy, El," she mumbled, looking out across the scenery before her. It was cold, and yet so utterly beautiful. Deadly. She had always loved dangerous things. "Is it wrong for me to wish that upon you as your dear friend?"
"I could say the same to you," he said, looking pointedly at Naruto. "I believe I have stolen enough of your attention for the time being, Lothien," he continued, backing away from what had become her and Naruto's part of their camp. "Rest well. We will be travelling further as soon as day breaks. Good eve, Anorion."
Naruto blinked at the curt nod he received.
Sakura only smiled. "Come, Anorion," she spoke, chuckling at the adorable frown Naruto sent her way. "We should settle down for the evening, otherwise I feel as though you wouldn't let the either of us have any rest, and we have a busy day ahead of us on the morrow..."
"You talk real weird now, Sakura—I mean Lothien," he said, following her as she went to unpack their bedding supplies from the packs they had brought along with them for the expedition.
"It is called being formal, dear friend, and the habit is rather hard to break," she explained, thinking of the many lifetimes where she had spoken like that. She had never quite broken the habit of speaking like a feudal princess – which she'd been a few times more than she cared for – or, more accurately, an elf.
"You don't have to be formal around me!" he declared in that earnest way of his. "We're friends, Sakura! Best friends!"
She smiled then, eyes crinkling up in happiness as she stared at the blonde who oftentimes meant so much to her in all her other cycles. Though she would admit there was another blonde in her current timeline of whom her feelings towards surpassed her dear friend there. Sakura closed her eyes then, reminding herself she was mortal now, and as such, any relationship with him was doomed. Those sorts of feelings between elves and men always were.
She only hoped, much like cycle four-thousand, that she didn't encounter him at all.
::
Cycle three-thousand was another matter entirely. It was where her feeling began, and where they had to end, what with her death as an elf. Sakura would never forget, not after Silifaloth had ensured they met in those waters. It was there where it had begun. The push and pull. The intoxicating spiral which she had let herself grow caught up in, until it was far too late for her to escape.
::
Life #3000
She liked high places.
Maybe her attraction to danger, to that toe-curling rush of adrenaline, had something to do with her liking for towers and climbing them. The fact she still had chakra with which to scale even the smoothest of walls like a spider, probably had something to do with her liking of finding the closest high structure with which to watch the sun as its light climbed over the mountains surrounding the beautiful city she had been born in.
But her heart ached, because she had once destroyed places like this one, in another time, and another place. She mourned for what her anger had wrought, at a later time than which she found herself. She had appeared only for the War of Wrath, she believed they had called it, in her two-thousandth cycle. So when the sun came over the peaks of the Encircling Mountains, she sung to the last remnant of Laurelin, as she often did whenever she found herself alone in a high place, with only her thoughts and wretched memories for company.
As she was singing the last notes though on that day, a voice reached her, "Now that is a terribly heavy song for daybreak, my lady," he said with a voice as smooth as the satin of the dresses her mother so loved.
Sakura turned, blinking languidly as she caught sight of him standing in the doorway, resting against the door frame with a casual elegance. His hair could have been spun out of gold, for all that it glittered in the light of day, his eyes of the brightest grey, boring into her inky black ones with all their splendour, a question unspoken hidden in their unfathomable depths. He could have been a statue, carved from marble, for all the lustre his ivory skin had in the morning light, exposed by the rolled sleeves of his tunic. "Perhaps," she said, tilting her head as she finished taking in his beauty and grace. "Perhaps not." She turned her gaze away then, settling her dark eyes on the beauty of the scenery she could see from on high. "I sing for myself, my lord. So how is it for you to decide that which I sing?"
His feet scuffed the stone flooring then as he stepped closer to her, and where she sat, legs dangling over the parapet. "Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to cause offence—"
"There is no offence," Sakura said, voice as bland and level as when she had answered him. She had no interest in him, aside from passing the time until she was required to report to Lord Rog and carry out her duties for the day. She doubted anything he spoke of would cause offence. She'd spent years growing accustomed to insults, unmeaning offence, and other methods through which one could enrage her. "I was simply informing you that I sing that which I wish to, when I wish to."
There was a momentary pause, black clashing with grey, before rich laughter rolled through the air. "Of course that is what you would do, my lady," he said, voice still overflowing with an amusement Sakura couldn't quite work out. She didn't know what she had said to make him laugh as such, so she only tilted her head once more, staring at the golden lord as though he were a new strain of bacteria. "Your voice is your own, and it is yours to do what you please with."
Sakura blinked slowly. "My lord, forgive me for my bluntness, but what business does the Lord of the Golden Flower have up a tower at this hour in the morning?"
He shifted on his feet then, turning the force of his gaze on the scene she had been admiring – daybreak. "It would appear you have me at a disadvantage, my lady, for you know my name, but I do not know yours..."
Sakura snorted. "I would wager it to be a common problem for you, my lord," she remarked, thinking on the matter of practically everyone in the city knowing his name. "I am Moriel, Seneschal of the House of the Hammer of Wrath. I would say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord, but I am afraid I already had that pleasure."
"Ah, Silifaloth," he murmured, humming in contemplation. "You left before I could catch your name that time..."
"Though let us be honest, anyone could work out my name if they had half a brain."
"Indeed, my lady." A wry grin curled at his lips. "Your colouring is rather... unique."
Sakura frowned. "That is one way to put it, certainly." She had never had the pleasure of encountering another elf with black eyes. "Though I notice you still have yet to answer my question, my lord."
"Could I not simply have fancied a morning stroll?"
She stared at him pointedly, eyebrows raised with prevalent scepticism.
"Come now," he said, arms folded across his broad chest. "You do not know me, or my habits..."
"You have not denied it," Sakura said flatly, folding her arms as she placed one leg back over the parapet. "So why are you really up here? I was not aware of another who so enjoyed watching the sun rise, else perhaps I might have found their company already."
"I heard singing. Your singing, to be precise, and I wondered as to who would be singing such a sad song in the light of dawn."
"Well, it would appear you have found the culprit."
"Though, my lady..." Glorfindel frowned, lifting up the key held within his hand. "I would ask how you managed to make your way up here, given I was required to unlock this very door to gain access..."
"I fancied a climb," Sakura said matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow – an invitation for his reply.
He blinked then, brows drawing together in something resembling concern. "My lady, I am not sure if it would be too prudent of me to bring your attention to the matter of this towers outer walls being rather smooth..."
"Indeed." A wicked smile besmirched her lips then. "It was terribly difficult to find adequate handholds, but I assure you, my lord, they are there."
Glorfindel blinked once more. "Tell me, is Lord Rog aware his beloved seneschal is completely and utterly mad?"
"Quite so, I am afraid," she said, her smile still set upon her lips even as a strong wind decided to buffer them in that instant. "But, as you have clearly seen, or perhaps, more aptly, heard, it only seems to endear me to him and the rest of the horde better known as the House of the Hammer of Wrath."
"Given how frequently you come up in the tales he regales us with, it is safe to say you are held within high regard."
Sakura sighed, a low chuckle escaping her lips. "It seems my dear Lord Rog will never overcome his habit of gossiping like a teenaged elleth, I see."
That drew a laugh from her new companion. "Indeed. Should such a day come, I fear what would happen amongst my dear compatriots."
"They would succumb to complete and utter boredom, no doubt."
"Plausible."
"I always am."
Sakura smiled at the second roll of rich laughter that earned her, taking note of the sun's position, sighing softly as she realised the time. She would have to return to her chambers, ready to deal with paperwork and the many other tasks she often dealt with as Lord Rog's Seneschal. Though really, she would not have changed her job for the life of her. She loved it. She loved the House of the Hammer of Wrath. True, they were all somewhat mad. But then again, all the best people were. In her mind, sanity was overrated. Valier knew she should have lost hers lifetimes ago.
"Have you somewhere to be, my lady?"
"You may call me Moriel if you wish," she said, climbing to her feet then. "And yes, I am afraid someone must be there to handle the matters of the House of the Hammer of Wrath, and that someone would happen to be me."
"I knew there was a reason behind Rog's alarming punctuality as of late." Glorfindel smiled once more, and Sakura knew it could melt even the iciest of hearts. Though really, hers was something akin to a glacier, especially when it came to the charms of elves. "Would you do me the honour of escorting you back to your House?" He offered his arm out, ever a gentleman, or so it seemed to her.
Sakura tapped her chin. "And here I was, thinking about climbing back down the same way I arrived," she said, grinning at the look of alarm and horror that earned her. "I think I shall take you up on that offer, after all, I would hate for the wrath of the hammer to fall upon you should the beloved seneschal of Lord Rog's household come to any harm in your presence."
"Might I advise not climbing any more towers when there are a perfectly good set of stairs available for use?"
Her hand closed around his proffered arm, and she smiled up at him so innocently. "But my lord! Where has your sense of adventure gone to? Surely you cannot be boring enough as to climb towers using stairs all of the time!"
The dry stare that earnt her fuelled her laughter for years to come.
::
Life #7000
A swamp.
That was what lay between them and the dragon they hunted, and Sakura felt her sheer, utter loathing at her once-kin come back to bite once more. Why, of all things, did it have to be a swamp? She would have gleefully taken the desert over trekking through mud which came to her thighs. Never had she envied the light steps of the elves as she had in that moment. She hated them and missed them in equal measures. She could have perhaps used her chakra, but she was blending in. Not to mention using her chakra for such a trivial reason as that, would only speed up her demise. Edain bodies weren't made for the strain which using chakra caused, especially not her chakra which, in essence, represented the sheer strength of her soul – accumulated over thousands of cycles.
So sludging through mud it was, all the while reminding herself to stay away from the golden elf. She had chanced fate enough as it was in Life Number Six Thousand. Sakura didn't need to get in a habit of interacting with him more and more with each passing thousand-cycle. She had only glimpsed him from afar before six-thousand. And how that had made her heart ache to see those golden locks dancing in the wind, all the while knowing she would never be able to run her hand through them. Never be able to see him shiver as the traced her finger from the curve of his jaw to his collarbone. Never be able to—
Sakura shook her head, gritting her teeth as she pushed those thoughts away. She wasn't going to think of him. Not when there was a dragon to be hunted. Not when she had to keep her wits about her. Not when it had been a dragon to kill her as Moriel. Banishing the thought, she scowled, hating the memories that tale regaled to them around the campfire had stirred to the surface. She didn't want to be reminded of the mistakes of Life Number Two Thousand.
She also didn't want to chance being ensnared by the dragon's song. Already, she could hear it, whispering promises to her, telling her that it could bind her fate to Arda's. That it could give her back her original body. But she knew better than to open her heart and mind to the creature whispering those promises in the song it wove. Not even the Valar could keep her there. Mandos couldn't keep her within his halls, nor reembody her. Not when she vanished, sometimes before she had even set foot within his halls.
"Glosuien!" Aravir's voice made her blink, and she tilted her head in question. "We will be breaking here for the night," he said, gesturing to the relatively dry space they had found amidst some trees. "According to Lord Glorfindel we should cross paths with the dragon tomorrow."
"I guess it's song is too weak to lead us astray as others have," she murmured, thinking of the many times she had hunted them before.
Aravir looked at her curiously. "What was that?"
Sakura merely smiled thinly. "Just enjoying the music," she said, glancing at the elf singing fiercely so as to keep the dragon's own poisonous songs at bay. Sakura only hoped their strength chose not to wane until the eve of tomorrow – by which she knew the dragon would have been dealt with. Really, they had a certain golden elf, and her – previously known as Glawarien Dragonslayer. That should have been enough of an indicator that their quest to slay the beast encroaching on these woods would be summarily dealt with.
Though admittedly no one was aware – or ever would be, if she had her way – about the latter. So she supposed they could afford to be a bit unnerved and afraid as they settled down for the night, and Sakura had to wait until she could no longer hear the whispers of the dragon at the edges of her battered, concealed soul, before she slipped into an uneasy rest.
::
"Where is she?" he asked. "Where is Moriel?"
"She is lost."
::
The question he had posed Mandos within his halls haunted his every waking moment. He didn't understand. Truly, he couldn't. Was she lost within his halls, lost in her thoughts as she waited to be reimbodied? The other part of him recalled the tale of Laethiel. The lost daughter of the Noldor, her fate unknown even to Mandos. Though he couldn't quite match the tale of the golden-haired elf, well known for her silvery eyes which were said to shine with the light of Telperion, with his dark-haired, dark-eyed beloved. Though he had never managed to say the words out loud. There had been something about her which whispered to him never to speak of his affections. Because there was an intolerable sadness which had seemed to surround her like a looming thundercloud. An intolerable sadness which spoke of her self-flagellation, and that would be an obstacle to overcome in getting her to return his affections. He had known that deep down, and he had held his tongue, wanting to grow closer and closer with her. Wanting to tear down the walls she had built to cloud her very fëa itself.
A bark of laughter, so soft it was almost inaudible, escaped him then, and he looked to the stars. His gaze was almost inexplicably drawn to the light of the Evening Star, and he thought of Eärendil, musing on the fate of the boy-turned-elf whom he had only even seen as a child before the tragedy which befell Gondolin. He thought of the doom which Manwë had given to him and their descendants. The power of doom which had bestowed them with a choice.
There was a doom set upon Laethiel too, and Glorfindel could remember as it was spoken in audience of her mother and father.
"In this matter, the power of doom is not given to me. The fate of Laethiel, as you so named her, is to be determined by The One. The actions undertaken by her shall be tallied when the time of The Hour comes, and she will be judged. Whether she shall be forgiven and her fate re-joined with that of her true kindred, or peril befalls her and her fate be sundered from Arda; the choice rests upon her shoulders, and her shoulders alone."
's words echoed in his head then, and he sighed once more, closing his eyes then as he thought of Glawarien. The mortal who had looked far too much like Moriel. The mortal long passed who had ensnared him so easily. She had made the thing which had long since nestled in his very heart come alive, made of thorns from the blossoming roses he had once wanted to present Moriel one morning. It had twisted, making his heart ache sorrowfully. Maybe that was why she had asked him to call her Níroliel. Sorrowful Daughter.
His hands curled, and he felt the whispers of the dragon's song at the very edges of his fëa. Ialladis' voice rang out then, strong and powerful. Like Moriel, his somewhat traitorous thoughts whispered. He would never forget the sight her figure had cut with lightning blazing down her blade. As though she had embodied the wrath of the skies, and the hatred they held for Morgoth and his dragons. As though she embodied the very wrath of Manwë himself.
He wanted to see her again.