Mila (A Glorfindel Fanfiction)

You can't fire me. I quit!!!

The star of Varda was engulfed inside the bud of the tiny blue flower.

As soon as Mila's bloody hand plucked the magical plant, the bud bloomed, revealing the glowing essence of Varda inside.

Days limping around without food or water, chasing after a mythical star left her no strength. Saruman had tortured and broke her ankle, and by making her witness Lady Galadriel's death, he had broken her spirit as well.

Mila was tired... so tired.

Now that she had her hands on the star, she had no hope left, for the only one who could wield it was gone-Lady Galadriel.

The world had come to ruin. Mila had failed their quest, even after all the sacrifices that her friends made for her. She studied the small burning star in her hand-such an expensive price to pay.

The house of Elrond was no more. But then again, Mila realized, even if all elves in Arda had to die, it still won't be enough to pay for the price of this star.

To resurrect Varda and placed her back to her throne.

Behind her the screeching sound of the witch king of Angmar tore through the air that reeked of death and misery. She could no longer run. She didn't know what to do.

If only Glorfindel was here; he would know what to do.

Saruman stood tall, looking down at her with contempt and a condescending smirk. Behind him, the full might of the undead king followed him.

Who was she to even stand a chance against that kind of army? Mila found herself alone, broken and without hope.

Saruman stretched out his hand that wasn't holding his staff; his nails grew to be talon like, as if wanting to devour what was left of her.

"The star grants its wielder immortality," he said, his voice reverberated with power that made Mila shudder with fear, "...or death. But no mortal could wield such power. Give me the star, and I shall let you live."

A small voice in her head told her that all was lost. Why fight any longer? Saruman was right; she didn't know how to or capable of wielding such power. Even now, the tiny star grew hotter within her small hands.

But Mila hated Saruman with all that she had left. If there was any power left in her, she would use all of it to make his life harder, though insignificantly in the end, even if it's the last thing she will ever do.

Saruman waited patiently, his arrogant smirk etched across his face knowing that victory was at hand.

Perhaps, Saruman's own arrogance was what defeated him.

Mila didn't know what came over her. Call it desperation; call it brokenness; call it her losing her mind. The mortal woman did what no living being in Middle Earth could ever see coming or even thought of.

She took the star into her mouth and swallowed it dry like a bitter pill.

Glorfindel always said that she was headstrong. Mila thought that he would be proud by her 'you can't fire me, I quit' attitude.

Saruman yelled profanities at her, calling her stupid before ordering his minions to tear her mortal body apart in order to find that star.

Heat.

Heat spread and grew from inside her core. It grew and grew until it burned her insides. It was probably too late to regret her rash decision, but she knew her body wouldn't be able to hold the power inside her much longer.