Post by Kììràrà on May 23, 2004 18:33:24 GMT -5
Basically, a fanfic that dosn't involve any characters from LotR, but is set in Middle Earth. Most of the names are those of some of my RPG characters.
You can also read it here[/b] ;D And I really need comments because it's unfinished. Like what to do from the end... I started writing on it again but am unsure about the continuing plot... :: shrugs :: SO: Comments! Pleaaaase!!
Counciousness came slowly. Hearing cam first- unfamiliar voices murmuring around her. Her head gave a throb and she reached up to grab it, finding bandages wrapped tightly around; the talking ceased as she moved.
“Oh!” exclaimed a woman’s misty voice from somewhere behind her. “You’ve woken. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.” She muttered back. Her own voice sounded harsh and unfamiliar.
“Understandable.” The woman replied, some of the mistiness leaving her voice, “you were nearly dead when we found you... but the major thing that everybody here has been wondering is: who are you?”
With a shock, she didn’t know her own name. She felt tears begin to spring up in her eyes; she brought her hands up to cover her face. But in place of her right hand was a heavily wrapped stump of a wrist. Completely disregarding the many eyes she knew were watching, she broke down and begin to cry, curling up into a stiff ball.
After a few moments of tear-filled eyes, she felt arms wrap around her in a motherly fashion.
“Your sleep was deep and healing” she heard another woman’s voice close to her ear. “But we still know nothing about you except that you are truly a tough one. Many Elves are. You wanted to live. Since you cannot remember your name, I think that it would be best if you were known for a while as Kiirara.”
“Kiirara” she muttered to herself, quelling her tears. “That will do.”
“Now, you must get some more rest, and perhaps tomorrow you may leave your bed. Oh, and you may call me Mara.” The woman stated as she signaled for the others to leave the room.
As the room finally emptied, Kiirara straightened back out, laying her head gratefully onto the pillow, not even wanting to know why her head and eye were bandaged. She closed her eyes and fell into a refreshing and voluntary sleep, not to wake for many hours.
When she awoke, the sun was shining merrily though the windows of the room, and Mara was sitting in one of the warming rays of sunshine, apparently watching Kiirara.
“You woke earlier than I expected.” She said, getting up and heading towards the bed. “I know what it’s like to be bed ridden. Would you like to get up?”
Kiirara nodded, not trusting the sound of her own voice, and stood up, almost falling over again but managing to tightly grip Mara’s outstretched arm.
“You lost much blood.” Mara told Kiirara with a small sympathetic smile. “Are you sure you want to stay up?”
“I’m quite sure, Kiirara replied. “Can you tell me, “she asked, glancing out the window, “where we are?”
“Of course, m’dear.” Mara said. “We are about three leagues outside of the city of Bree. I trust you know where Bree is?” she asked, lending Kiirara into the nearby kitchen.
Kiirara had a dim recollection of the map of Middle-Earth, so she just nodded in response to Mara’s question. Mara reached the end of the kitchen and stopped at a mirror.
“We take great pride in this,” Mara said, gesturing to the mirror. “They are extremely hard to come by!”
Kiirara silently stared into the mirror, not liking what she saw. Her reflection was staring back at her, leaning heavily on Mara’s stout arm, still extremely pale; a brilliant purple eye staring at her, with the other, presumably like it’s counterpart, covered in thick bandages, along with the corresponding ear, she noticed. She took a bit of pride in her brown wavy hair that went down to the waist of her simple white nightgown. But she avoided the sight of her stump of a wrist.
“Please, sit down.” Mara said, gesturing to a chair by the table. Kiirara sat gratefully, having the time on her feet already exhausting her.
“Harri!” Mara yelled out the open door. Seeing Kiirara’s quizzical looks, she added, “Harri is my daughter.” After a few seconds waiting, a young girl around the age of 15 wandered into the room.
“Yes, mother?” Harri responded in a misty voice that Kiirara immediately recognized.
“Would you retrieve Kiirara’s belongings?” Mara requested.
Without a nod of consent, Harri left the room, her wispy blonde hair whipping around the corner.
“I don’t mean to prod, but do you remember how you got into this condition?” Mara asked.
After a few moments of hard thinking, Kiirara bowed her head in defeat.
“I’m sorry, I cannot remember... much of any of my past. I do know where I am from, nor why I am in this region of Middle Earth.”
Mara glanced at the door and saw that Harri had returned with an armful of items.
“Then perhaps I could help you with that.” She told Kiirara.
Harri stepped forward and gently laid a bow, empty quiver, a pair of knee high boots, leather pants, and a patched linen shirt with many blood stains.
And unexpected sense of déjà vu overwhelmed Kiirara as she saw the items.
“We found these with you when we discovered your body about a league from this house. I was surprised that you were even alive when we found you. Harri here has been training as a Healer for several years now, and she was luckily with me at the time. She’s the only reason you made it to the house alive.” Mara informed Kiirara.
“And I am forever in each of your debt. I owe you my life.” Kiirara replied, bowing her head in respect.
“No deed for any of that, m’dear. It was a mere act of good deeds.” Mara said, smiling.
Kiirara didn’t respond, but reached out for the bow and picked it up. It was a good hefty weight and soothing under her fingers; it was her bow. She reached up to pluck the string, remembering as her right hand reached the string that she was unable to do so. With a grunt of frustration and anger, she set the bow back on the table.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Kiirara spoke again, her voice filled with unspoken sorrow.
“How many days ago did you find me?” she asked in a half whisper.
“For twelve days you did not stir, not even mutter in your sleep. Today would be the thirteenth day.” Mara replied, all too aware of Kiirara’s emotions. “Would you like to go back to bed?”
“No...” Kiirara replied, staring out the window. “But you really shouldn’t be fussing over me. I think that I would be content just to sit here and watch your family as they regularly are.”
“As you wish.” Mara replied lightly as she got up and headed outside, signaling for Harri to do the same.
As the day continued on, Kiirara drifted in and out of conciseness, taking small naps in the chair she continued to sit in. She also met the rest of Mara’s family. There was Marnee, who was just younger than Harri, and the eldest daughter of the family, Iena, who seemed to be ripening on the vines of a Man’s ageline. She also met Mara’s two sons, Lle and Beren, who were twins around the age of 25. As the sins set, Oio, Mara’s husband, walked though the door and stopped at the sight of Kiirara.
“So... you lived.” He stated after a silent moment’s inspection. “Mara and Harri did well.” With those words, he went off to another part of the house, leaving Kiirara in the dying sunlight. As the sun finally sank below the horizon, Mara came by the kitchen, lighting candles and finally noticed Kiirara.
(To be continued in the next post... stupid word limit on these things...)
You can also read it here[/b] ;D And I really need comments because it's unfinished. Like what to do from the end... I started writing on it again but am unsure about the continuing plot... :: shrugs :: SO: Comments! Pleaaaase!!
Counciousness came slowly. Hearing cam first- unfamiliar voices murmuring around her. Her head gave a throb and she reached up to grab it, finding bandages wrapped tightly around; the talking ceased as she moved.
“Oh!” exclaimed a woman’s misty voice from somewhere behind her. “You’ve woken. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.” She muttered back. Her own voice sounded harsh and unfamiliar.
“Understandable.” The woman replied, some of the mistiness leaving her voice, “you were nearly dead when we found you... but the major thing that everybody here has been wondering is: who are you?”
With a shock, she didn’t know her own name. She felt tears begin to spring up in her eyes; she brought her hands up to cover her face. But in place of her right hand was a heavily wrapped stump of a wrist. Completely disregarding the many eyes she knew were watching, she broke down and begin to cry, curling up into a stiff ball.
After a few moments of tear-filled eyes, she felt arms wrap around her in a motherly fashion.
“Your sleep was deep and healing” she heard another woman’s voice close to her ear. “But we still know nothing about you except that you are truly a tough one. Many Elves are. You wanted to live. Since you cannot remember your name, I think that it would be best if you were known for a while as Kiirara.”
“Kiirara” she muttered to herself, quelling her tears. “That will do.”
“Now, you must get some more rest, and perhaps tomorrow you may leave your bed. Oh, and you may call me Mara.” The woman stated as she signaled for the others to leave the room.
As the room finally emptied, Kiirara straightened back out, laying her head gratefully onto the pillow, not even wanting to know why her head and eye were bandaged. She closed her eyes and fell into a refreshing and voluntary sleep, not to wake for many hours.
When she awoke, the sun was shining merrily though the windows of the room, and Mara was sitting in one of the warming rays of sunshine, apparently watching Kiirara.
“You woke earlier than I expected.” She said, getting up and heading towards the bed. “I know what it’s like to be bed ridden. Would you like to get up?”
Kiirara nodded, not trusting the sound of her own voice, and stood up, almost falling over again but managing to tightly grip Mara’s outstretched arm.
“You lost much blood.” Mara told Kiirara with a small sympathetic smile. “Are you sure you want to stay up?”
“I’m quite sure, Kiirara replied. “Can you tell me, “she asked, glancing out the window, “where we are?”
“Of course, m’dear.” Mara said. “We are about three leagues outside of the city of Bree. I trust you know where Bree is?” she asked, lending Kiirara into the nearby kitchen.
Kiirara had a dim recollection of the map of Middle-Earth, so she just nodded in response to Mara’s question. Mara reached the end of the kitchen and stopped at a mirror.
“We take great pride in this,” Mara said, gesturing to the mirror. “They are extremely hard to come by!”
Kiirara silently stared into the mirror, not liking what she saw. Her reflection was staring back at her, leaning heavily on Mara’s stout arm, still extremely pale; a brilliant purple eye staring at her, with the other, presumably like it’s counterpart, covered in thick bandages, along with the corresponding ear, she noticed. She took a bit of pride in her brown wavy hair that went down to the waist of her simple white nightgown. But she avoided the sight of her stump of a wrist.
“Please, sit down.” Mara said, gesturing to a chair by the table. Kiirara sat gratefully, having the time on her feet already exhausting her.
“Harri!” Mara yelled out the open door. Seeing Kiirara’s quizzical looks, she added, “Harri is my daughter.” After a few seconds waiting, a young girl around the age of 15 wandered into the room.
“Yes, mother?” Harri responded in a misty voice that Kiirara immediately recognized.
“Would you retrieve Kiirara’s belongings?” Mara requested.
Without a nod of consent, Harri left the room, her wispy blonde hair whipping around the corner.
“I don’t mean to prod, but do you remember how you got into this condition?” Mara asked.
After a few moments of hard thinking, Kiirara bowed her head in defeat.
“I’m sorry, I cannot remember... much of any of my past. I do know where I am from, nor why I am in this region of Middle Earth.”
Mara glanced at the door and saw that Harri had returned with an armful of items.
“Then perhaps I could help you with that.” She told Kiirara.
Harri stepped forward and gently laid a bow, empty quiver, a pair of knee high boots, leather pants, and a patched linen shirt with many blood stains.
And unexpected sense of déjà vu overwhelmed Kiirara as she saw the items.
“We found these with you when we discovered your body about a league from this house. I was surprised that you were even alive when we found you. Harri here has been training as a Healer for several years now, and she was luckily with me at the time. She’s the only reason you made it to the house alive.” Mara informed Kiirara.
“And I am forever in each of your debt. I owe you my life.” Kiirara replied, bowing her head in respect.
“No deed for any of that, m’dear. It was a mere act of good deeds.” Mara said, smiling.
Kiirara didn’t respond, but reached out for the bow and picked it up. It was a good hefty weight and soothing under her fingers; it was her bow. She reached up to pluck the string, remembering as her right hand reached the string that she was unable to do so. With a grunt of frustration and anger, she set the bow back on the table.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Kiirara spoke again, her voice filled with unspoken sorrow.
“How many days ago did you find me?” she asked in a half whisper.
“For twelve days you did not stir, not even mutter in your sleep. Today would be the thirteenth day.” Mara replied, all too aware of Kiirara’s emotions. “Would you like to go back to bed?”
“No...” Kiirara replied, staring out the window. “But you really shouldn’t be fussing over me. I think that I would be content just to sit here and watch your family as they regularly are.”
“As you wish.” Mara replied lightly as she got up and headed outside, signaling for Harri to do the same.
As the day continued on, Kiirara drifted in and out of conciseness, taking small naps in the chair she continued to sit in. She also met the rest of Mara’s family. There was Marnee, who was just younger than Harri, and the eldest daughter of the family, Iena, who seemed to be ripening on the vines of a Man’s ageline. She also met Mara’s two sons, Lle and Beren, who were twins around the age of 25. As the sins set, Oio, Mara’s husband, walked though the door and stopped at the sight of Kiirara.
“So... you lived.” He stated after a silent moment’s inspection. “Mara and Harri did well.” With those words, he went off to another part of the house, leaving Kiirara in the dying sunlight. As the sun finally sank below the horizon, Mara came by the kitchen, lighting candles and finally noticed Kiirara.
(To be continued in the next post... stupid word limit on these things...)
