Boromir's Return -II- Book Four of the Tales of the Fourth Age Series

Chapter Nineteen: Bad Dreams

Fo.A 2, September 4th

Gimli looked down at the babe in his arms as it cooed and played with his beard; it seemed strange to him that such a happy baby could come from so unhappy a mother; a murderer at that.

He'd grieved for his brethren when they had found them, throats slashed and beards shorn. Disgraced. Their blood was on his hands.

Breniriel pulled on Gimli's mustache, causing him to wince and eyes water. He held the elfling out in front of him, scowling at it. "You elves have no respect for beards," he grumbled, cradling the baby once more. "You'll learn, though, Mahal help me."

Hours later, Gimli sat before the hearth in his private chambers, the babe swaddled in a crèche in the next room, sleeping peacefully. He puffed thoughtfully on his pipe as he replayed the dream he'd been having since Tauriel's escape. Always the same; the dragon, whispering softly as it starred without blinking. Names, so many names. And a lass, too far away was she for him to get a good looking at her, and she ran whenever he called out to her.

Gimli blew out a puff of smoke, watching it rise towards the ceiling. What did it mean? Smaug had been the last of the great fire-drakes of the north, or so it was said, yet this dragon was different: it bore no wings on its scaly back.

He would need to look into this further and consult the elders of his race to glean what wisdom he could. Until then, he would rest for the-

A cry came from the other room. Gimli sighed, pushing himself out of his chair, grumbling to himself. "You ate not two hours ago, so how in the name of Durin can you be hungry again." Gimli shook his head. "Elves."

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Ninel awoke with a start, screaming. She lay in a forest, blackened with age and burned; a body lay beside her. She looked in all directions and saw no sign of anyone else.

Her body was shaking, and Ninel held up her hands, a scream dying on her lips as she saw the blood. She looked at the boy next to her lying face down on the dead grass, two holes in the neck slowly trickling blood.

Reflexively she lunged for the droplets, licking them up, then recoiled and vomited. Tears began to stream down her bloodstained face, and she wailed aloud, confused and alone.

"Ninel?"

The voice was soft, gentle, and warm. It was everywhere at once and yet far away. Ninel looked around but saw no one. No one could find her like this! She was a monster!

"Ninel." The voice was firm now, speaking with an authority she did not quite understand. She wanted to run to it, lose herself in it, but that would mean that they would see her for what she was...whatever she was.

"Tul- na i galad."

Ninel's eyes flew open, a terrified cry tearing at her throat and suddenly choked off by overwhelming emotion. She felt arms wrap around her, and she buried herself in them, realizing after a moment that they belonged to Legolas. She heard him whispering something in his elven tongue as a deep warmth washed over her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

Legolas looked at Aragorn, worry creasing his face. "Her nightmares are getting worse, and I cannot find a reason. There is a hungering darkness plaguing her, that is all I can tell."

Aragorn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I will speak to Arwen and see if there is an elvish medicine that would help her. For now, stay with her and watch over her."

Aragorn left, and Legolas turned his attention back to Ninel. He'd lived a long life, and he had learned much of Age's past. He'd seen the look in her eyes, the wild hunger that had lasted but a moment. It couldn't be possible, not with her. She was too young.