Beyond All Recognition
The snow caressed her face, whipping her long hair around her shivering body, drops of snow melting white upon her raven streaks. Morinvala blinked through the blinding whirl of water and ice, the shapes around her were mere shadows against the white backdrop. Falasna’s shape entwining through the sheet; disappearing and reappearing upon elemental request. The mare below her neighed nervously as another cry infringed the gasping wind, sharp and evil, a tinge of delicate hatred lacing the sound. Morinvala shivered the sound ached her mind, causing a flood of thoughts and memories that she wished to have all but disappeared. She tugged the mare’s mane lightly, catching on; the horse trudged forward, faster through the growing crystal mounds.
Panic rose within Morinvala’s throat; another cry, closer, quicker, Falasna had all but disappeared from sight, and no crunch of snow met her quick hearing. Near to the fastest pace through the Pass, Morinvala leaned forward, her face nearly buried within the mare’s mane. She closed her eyes, the feeling of closure, the shadows moving forward, embracing her frail form. Suddenly, she lurched forward as the mare below her stumbled and fell. Morinvala’s eyes opened as the powdery snow embraced her sight.
All was still. The tumbled mare gathered to her feet, glancing fearfully at the figure her delicate legs had collided with. She nickered worriedly at her past that lay still in bloodied snow. Lifting her head again, she sniffed the swirling air, catching the scent of her love; she strode forward to the gored carcass, neighing sadly as she nudged the figure with her head. There came no reply, no movement. Her voice echoed against the mountain’s, mournful at her loss, her legs fell out beneath her and she collapsed into the snow sorrowfully, caring not of her master or of the one who rode the steed, her dead love.
Wake up. Now. You must. “Mother?” Morinvala slowly opened her eyes, waiting to see the softened eyes of her mother, smiling, stroking Morinvala’s hair, laughing. Gasping, Morinvala emerged from the snow; she stared around in disbelief at the patches of red streaks amongst the almost flawless ice. She lifted herself slowly to her feet, and slowly made her way through the deepening snow towards her mare, almost completely covered by the drifts.
Gently, her hands caressed the air, pushing away the icy molecules, leading a clear path before her, the wind roaring its defiance against her force. The mare shivered slightly at Morinvala’s touch, but did not wish to move. Morinvala felt its sorrow, but did not realise why until her eyes fell upon the covered figure next to the mare, Falasna’s steed. Reality stopped, time shifting slowly as her heart seemed to break with tension, pouring forth her dream in vivid flashes. Crying allowed she fell to her knees upon the bloodied patches of snow.
Another cry, another surge of pain. But the cry was not from Morinvala, but from a closing group of beings that appeared through the scattering storm. Evil within their endless eyes, gnarled by years of confinement within the darkness of Arda. Servant’s of old, follower’s still of their destructive breed. Once fair and light, and now twisted forms, Orcs. They came forth like a bad wind, gnashing, laughing, greedily wiping their bloodied mouths, hungry for more. Morinvala slowly came to her feet, dropping her shield away, letting the wind engulf her form.
The Orcs paused, wary of the sudden change of wind currents, but there eyes remained upon Morinvala’s form. Two of the Orcs stepped aside, as two more appeared, one after the other, a dripping pile of rags, slowly gathering a mountain of snow, was carried upon their wretched shoulders. Morinvala watched in silence as they grinned at her and threw down the carcass, though torn beyond all recognition; a carcass was what it seemed to be. Her heart stopped, her eyes fell out of focus, and her legs almost gave out beneath her. But she fought it, all the emotions inside colliding together; she denied all what she saw, though it be truthful. Falasna was murdered, riding to far off ahead, attacked.
Taking this chance, the Orcs rushed forth, leaping over Falasna’s body, towards Morinvala, who remained rigid, alone. Another cry pierced the air, snapping Morinvala awake, but it did not come from the Orcs, who had all froze, glancing around nervously. Another cry, war-like, followed by the soft thuds of hoofs. Two Orcs near her fell dead, long shafts spilling forth from their uncovered backs. The survivors screeched at their unseen attackers, as more arrows flew through the howling air, striking their targets.
Morinvala made her way through the carnage to what was left of Falasna’s form. As bodies of the dead fell around her, she cried out her mourning, reaching for the bloodied carcass, soiling her hands in its midst. Her warm tears melted the snow beneath her, and the earth around her shook with her sorrow. She did not see the last Orc fall to the ground, or the lonely figure that emerged into view, atop a golden steed, tall and valiant. She did not feel his touch on her shoulder, or his kind words. But the only thing that awoke her was a robe that was thrown over Falasna. Morinvala looked up sorrowfully at her saviour, his kind eyes staring down sympathetically.
“Tulasii’ tailvarna.” (Come now, it is not safe) Morinvala nodded, and took his hand gently; he led her carefully to the steed and placed her upon its back. Then, returning to Falasna, he lifted the body carefully, and swung it over the steed, than mounted, and turned the horse around, leading it away from the carnage.
Author’s Note: Im sorry! I know all of you didn’t want anything to happen to Falasna… but… well, just wait and read on ,-,